The Shallow End

Family Therapy

We had our first encounter with the family therapist a couple weeks ago. I have very mixed feelings about it. I left feeling like it was a good start, open honest discussion about the good, bad and the ugly. But the more I think about it, the angrier I get. Maybe "angry" isn't the right word, but frustrated. I think it's important that we as a family have a forum to discuss the difficult issues and get the input of an impartial third party...that part was good. But the moment I used the words "disappointed" and "betrayed" in the context of having difficulty trusting our daughter again after going through several periods of sobriety followed by relapse(and even the "sober" periods were not always as sober as we thought), I was accused of "bringing morality into it." According to the therapist (and most addiction counselors who subscribe to the AA brand of treatment would agree), addiction is a genetic disease and she can't help it (i.e. she is not accountable for her actions). I strongly disagree.

Then there was the discussion about getting a job, going back to school, etc. While we have talked at length about the importance of getting a job, we know that going back to work in the restaurant business (her former job) invites temptation that she does not need, nor does she look forward to a lifetime of waitressing. My suggestion was to take advantage of the time she has now (while we're willing to help financially and with babysitting) to go to school, possibly tying in a job with her education if such an opportunity exists (she wants to pursue a job in healthcare, starting as a medical assistant). The therapist contradicted this and suggested that she was not capable of doing school right now and should stick with a waitressing job until her brain is functioning normally. She added that we should not expect her to ever be the "problem solving over achiever" that I am. Excuse me? I had never talked to or met this woman before. I'm not sure how she knows that much about me or how encouraging our daughter to follow her dreams (NOT my expectations) was expecting too much.

Oh well. I guess I should not have EXPECTED so much from a family therapist.

Labels: Family

posted by Gwynne @ 11:52 PM 2 comments

Almost Forgot...

I almost forgot to mention the highlight of last week...I ventured into a real live PAWN SHOP for the first time in my life. And not the kind that's all clean and sterile either. No, this was the kind with bars on the windows and surveillance cameras everywhere and lots of guns and knives on the shelves, in a seedy part of town. Why? Because we decided to do something nice for our daughter when she got out of rehab, and she's been carrying around an old CD player for a long time now. When we suggested that maybe she would like an MP3 player like all the cool kids have, she was thrilled with the possibilities and suggested that we might find a good deal at the pawn shop where she recently APPLIED FOR A JOB. Ahem. Well, the job application has been withdrawn now, but I decided to go check it out (with her guidance and direction...mind you, I was dressed like the grandmother that I am and wore my hair up in a perfectly coiffed bun ;-). I managed to find the most clean shaven, nerdy sales clerk in the joint and asked to see their MP3 players. He hooked me up and we walked out with a perfectly good 8G iPod Nano with earbuds and the Apple USB cable all for $49.95. And we lived to tell about it!

The name on the iPod was "Dad's iPod." Something tells me that Dad's offspring did the setup for him. I hope Dad is not now missing his iPod!

Labels: Family, Recovery

posted by Gwynne @ 9:15 AM 1 comments

Z'Bout Time

I know I'm due for some kind of update around here. It'd be so much easier if I'd just jot down a note or two every day rather than let everything build up inside for a month. Sheesh.

Our daughter is out of rehab and back home now, adjusting to the "boring" life again. She says she really, really enjoyed the program and is glad she did it. She admits now to having reservations about it all the way up to the front door, and even for a couple days after that, but she met some good people and is better for the experience, I can tell. She even received the Award for Best Client (out of a group of about 25 people), and...here's the shocker...the award for the Cleanest Room!! This is HUGE! She's never made her bed, never picked the clothes up off her floor, never put trash in the trash can. My solution has always been to either a) close the door, or b) wait until she wanted something and use this as leverage...clean up your room, or else. I'm a bit of a neat freak so the fact that she got this distinguished award gave me goosebumps. :-)

She is still doing good (still happy with her decision to live a sober life, still focused on recovery, still interested in getting her old job back and starting school, more interested in actively parenting than she has ever been), but we've also had our moments of frustration adjusting to life together again.

We'll spend some time in family therapy sessions along the way so that we might hash
out the difficult issues in the company of professionals. From my perspective, the difficulty is we are either offending her by stepping in her way and not letting her "be the mom," or she loses her patience and gets frustrated because she doesn't want to parent and then we're not helping enough. She is very sensitive about the fact that she's not been here for so long and trying to preserve her role of
"mom." To avoid skirmishes, I've taken the position for now that I will let her do the caretaking unless she asks for help, and when she does, I am going to try and remain as neutral, loving, uncritical, and helpful as I can, trying to teach her what I have learned along the way without getting mad when she dismisses me (her favorite line is "don't be so paranoid"). We've agreed that I won't tell her how to parent if she won't tell me how to grandparent. I'm frequently told that I'm spoiling him...grandparents are allowed to "baby" their grandchildren when they fall and pick them up when they cry, right? Her counselor told us that we should just be prepared to parent while she is recovering because she can't do both simultaneously. Agreed! To this end we try to let her do as much as she's comfortable doing but without expectations. We try to step in when a diaper needs changing or when he wakes up in the night rather than calling on her (she never hears him cry at night anyway, and she's never seen him wake up in the morning ...which is a shame because seeing his happy little smile in the morning is the best part)! So you can see the dilemma. It's not easy. I should have studied psychology.

Julian, for his part, is doing great, glad to have Mommy home. He is
babbling, sometimes non-stop, and sometimes cussing us out in Baby,
like when we try to make him go to bed or take away the remote control. But he is still the most good natured little guy. He is practicing his walking with a push car and going faster every day.

We gave him a soft serve ice cream cone at McDonalds for the first time and he shoved it up Mommy's nose, then in his eye. He finished off with a heroic squeeze of the cone which, of course, resulted in much mess all over himself, but he was thrilled with the results, and quivered with delight. We captured lots of hilarious laughter on my cell phone. Wish I could upload the video.

We have been spending our weekends going to garage sales and thrift stores. Sparky now has more clothes than anyone else in the house and lots of toys. We've found a few deals for ourselves as well. I've vowed never to spend full price on clothes again (except for underwear and socks), not even at Wal-Mart.

And we are looking forward to our first airplane trip with Sparky in October (to Tacoma for a visit to our boat). I'm making long lists of all the necessities for traveling with baby. So much for traveling light! I'me resigned to having to check some bags this time.

Tha's about it for now. Until next month. Let Go, Let God.

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family

posted by Gwynne @ 1:06 AM 7 comments

Random Thursday, Friday Edition

Nearly 2 inches in diameter!

Thanks to what I have come to learn is a Funnel Web Grass spider (and not the dreaded Brown Recluse spider that I thought), my entire bedroom was turned upside down and vacuumed, dusted and sprayed in order that I might sleep last night. I caught this utterly despicable creature recreating in the door jam of our bedroom sliding glass doors. When I chased it down with a broom handle, it ran for the small space between the mattress and the wall (made smaller by the fact that our mattresses are still sitting on the floor and not on a proper frame). This close proximity to my pillows made the thought of sleeping virtually impossible. I've never been an arachniphobe until I started reading up on Brown Recluses. Then I became a complete nutjob. My husband had never witnessed this side of me before but like the saintly Prince that he is (he loves a good damsel in distress...makes him feel needed, I guess), he quickly went to work in the bedroom. I refused to go in until he delivered proof that this spider had been dispatched. When he returned with the thing caught between two chopsticks, I laughed (but made him put it in the toilet until I could be sure it was dead). He actually sprayed it with ant spray and then removed it with the chopsticks. It wasn't quite like the scene in that movie where the Chinese guy catches a fly with his chopsticks...what was that movie?? We extracted it for a photo shoot and a full internet analysis. Thankfully, it is not a Brown Recluse, but I also learned that even a bite from a Funnel Web Grass spider requires immediate medical care and anti-venom.

Anyway, back to the Random:

1) Julian has developed a fascination with all things electrical (he found this under the sink...clearly we need to up the baby proofing).

No matter how many times I redirect his interest, he returns to this particular electrical outlet with alarming (and increasing) frequency. I finally unplugged the lamp and picture frame and plugged up the holes, like all of the other unused outlets within his reach.


2) Julian reads! This morning, I caught him reading for the first time. I put him in his crib for a nap, walked away while he was playing and went back when things quieted down to what I thought was an actual nap. I peeked into the crib and saw him quietly reading this book, stroking the picture on the page (his normal routine is to use reading time for clapping, repeatedly slamming the book shut with each turn of the page). I was quietly pleased at this little discovery. He really does know that books are to be read, not slammed shut!

3) I spend about 6 hours a day hunting for lost binkies. Julian has only 4 that he will use (not available at Wal-mart or Target) and about 15 that he will not, so we have to protect the 4 with all we have.

4) Julian's mother did not check into rehab on the appointed bed date, a decision that brought immense disappointment to me and her father, but did not surprise us. She needs to do it on her timetable, not ours, and like we told her at the time, we would have been more disappointed if she had checked in and not completed the program than if she decided it wasn't the right time and/or place to check in. We drove her there (about 200 miles round trip) and saw the place, but in the end, we drove her back to her temporary place of residence and went to IHOP.

5) This resulted in a lengthy text exchange, followed by a lengthy letter in which I laid out a perfectly good argument (read this with a hint of sarcasm please) for her to seek God and ask Him to help get her life back on track, because me? I've done all I can do.

6) I received the perfect cookbook for my birthday! I have tried more of the recipes in this book in less than a month than in some of my other books (I have a LOT of cookbooks) in a lifetime! I highly recommend Barefoot Contessa's Back to Basics!!

6A) I love pesto and the fact that my basil is growing gangbusters...pesto for the masses!

6B) I love making risotto...the magical transformation from a collection of basic ingredients to creamy divine taste and texture is a culinary thrill.

6C) I love marinating...and I love the combination of garlic and ginger for this purpose. And a bountiful collection of fresh homegrown herbs.

6D) I love being able to cook with ingredients I have on hand instead of having to make a trip to the store for every meal.

7) I am enjoying the summer without having to work, and enjoying much needed time to spend with extended family. My cousin and her husband and two daughters came through town and I was able to spend the entire day with them, on a weekday, and even prepare a meal in my home when I normally would have suggested we go out to eat. Eating at home afforded the opportunity to invite my brother's family over and all of us enjoyed time together that we had really NEVER experienced. My brother hadn't seen our cousin since 1983! Their kids are the same age and yet they had never met each other...I am the one hiding behind all the skinny beautiful people!

8) I also received the perfect devotional for my birthday, but already I am behind a day or two in the reading. I really am going to try and stick to a daily routine this year. REALLY!

Labels: Family

posted by Gwynne @ 12:31 PM 4 comments

I Doubt

On Sunday, while visiting with our daughter (Julian's mother), we went to the Panda Express drive-thru for dinner on our way back to her place. After we finished eating, she was about to throw the bag away and I said, "Wait! There are fortune cookies in there!!" and I reached in and grabbed them both, carelessly handing one to her (normally, we make a point to carefully pick our cookies, making sure we get the right ones). So we open them up and she reads hers:

"Any doubts you may have will disappear early this month."

To which I say, "Oh, that's good!" And she asks, "Why is that?" And I say, "Well, in case you had any doubts about the whole rehab thing, you know." And she says, "I don't have any doubts!"

So then I read mine:

"You will obtain your goal if you maintain your course."

To which I said, "Well, apparently we got the wrong fortunes then, because I don't have any goals."

And we quickly switched fortunes, before anyone could be the wiser.

Labels: Chinese fortunes, Family

posted by Gwynne @ 10:14 PM 4 comments

Happy Father's Day!

Dear Dad,


Last year, on Father's Day, we were a little busy. For me, it was a reminder of how important is a Father's role. Unlike Julian's father, you have ALWAYS been there for me. Even when you and Mom got divorced, I always felt like the most important thing for you was maintaining your relationship with me and my brother, as our father. You made sure to spend time with us and celebrated milestones with us, but most importantly, you enjoyed being a Dad. You played with us!


Remember going fishing and teaching us how to put worms (and live frogs!!) onto hooks and how to scope out the best fishing holes? And years later, how to cast a fly rod? Remember the grocery store you built for us, and stocked full of food so we could sell it to you?! Remember teaching us how to play basketball? And football (I was the only girl in 5th grade that the boys would let play ;-)? And baseball (I nearly killed the neighbor boy with a hard whack to the head with that powerful swing you taught us)? Remember building us a go-kart that we ripped through the neighborhood in...boy, did we become popular then; suddenly everyone wanted to be our friend! Remember helping us bind our school projects in your special book binder so ours would be professional...you taught us to take pride in our work and to always do our best. Remember when you were in Hawaii on business and you sent us care packages full of seashells? We treasured those packages so much!! Remember building me that drafting table when I was in college so I'd have a place to work? And years later, the jewelry bench (I still plan to put that to better use now that I'm "retired")? Remember quiet evenings at home, sitting in the beanbag, eating popcorn and watching Charlie Chan? Heh. :-)


You taught us many valuable lessons. You set a good example of how to live a productive life and you expected the same from us. You encouraged us to always try new things. You let us make mistakes and you were there to help us pick up the pieces without question. Remember when I wrecked two of your cars when I was just learning to drive (once was really NOT my fault, I swear! :-) and you just took care of the mess and still let me drive?! You taught us to invest in our future and set our sights high. You always believed in us and told us that we could do anything we wanted to do. You helped me through college, and continued to encourage me, even when I was ready to give up. Because I knew that you knew I could do it, I believed in myself.


More than anything, you have always shown your unconditional love for me, and you have always shown your love of life and adventure.


I love you very much, Dad! Happy Father's Day. :-)


Love,
Gwynne

Remember the chicken coop on the dinner table?

Labels: Family

posted by Gwynne @ 9:09 AM 2 comments

Happy Birthday, Julian!

Here's a few more pictures...look at how much you look like Mommy and Grandpa!

Mommy, when she was also one year old

Grandpa, when he was just a few years old

Mommy...

... and Julian!

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family

posted by Gwynne @ 9:41 AM 0 comments

The Pink Elephant

This is the post I feel I have to write before I can go on. It's as if to ignore the huge pink elephant in the room, I am somehow lying. It's as if I can't blog at all unless people know what is really going on in my life because without a proper dramatic backdrop, the trite and trivial stuff that I would rather comment about is just buzzing in my ears, and it gets annoying even to me. It's a variation on the "without the bad, we can't appreciate the good" cliche, only here, I would replace "good" with "little things."

Part of what holds me back, aside from my most introverted nature and the fact that I don't really have the time, is the fact that what I perceive as "bad" or troublesome pales in comparison to the pain and suffering of others in the world. I really try to keep things in their proper perspective, but that said, this past year has been especially painful and troublesome for me and this is my journal, not the Hitchhiker's Guide to the whole entire Galaxy, for Pete's sake.

So here's the bad, from my little corner of the world...starting with the good...

Most people in my world now know that I have a little grandson, named Julian. He just turned 9 months old but was born 10 weeks early, so he's not even crawling yet (his Auntie was racing around our apartment on her hands and feet at this age, and running around the entire park at 12 months)! I love him dearly! I can honestly say, I think I love him more than any other person on earth! I've never known the strength of the parent-child love relationship like I know it with Julian (C.S. Lewis wrote a brilliant little book on this, along with the three other kinds of love, in a book entitled...wait for it...The Four Loves). While I have known and helped raise my two step-daughters since they were 6 months and two years old, we didn't have custody of them until they were 4 and 5, after the most important formative, bonding years were over (in my opinion). Not that I didn't love them and raise them as my own from that point forward, but I never felt like this before. Their biological mother was still a big part of their lives even though she was a severe alcoholic. I still deferred to her role as their mother and tried not to poison them (not always successfully, I might add...I'm not looking for any Mother-of-The-Year nominations here!) Maybe because of that, I never felt fully in control of their lives (ahem, I do know who's really at the Helm), and my controlling nature tends to let go of things if I cannot control them. All I'm saying is that, while I have helped raise two bright beautiful girls (more about one of them in a minute), I've never felt the love I feel for Julian. And that is such a true blessing that I feel guilty about the fact that I am so emotionally bankrupt right now.

And now, for the bad...

When our oldest turned 18 (actually two weeks after she turned 18, even though I showed her the door on her 18th birthday since she'd been talking about this moment since she was like 12), she moved out to experience all of the freedom she expected to find in the real world. Of course, what she found in reality was that freedom comes with responsibility and that without behaving responsibly, one can lose the freedom she craves very quickly. And she did. She must have gone to jail 5 or 6 times in the course of a year, all for misdemeanor infractions ranging from unpaid parking tickets to shoplifting.* After her second time, we quit getting the crying "please come bail me out" phone calls because we refused to bail her out. Instead, she became well acquainted with a particular bail bondsman who became one of her best friends. We would always breathe a sigh of relief when we did get those calls because at least, we knew where she was and that she was alive. Amazingly, she did not get caught or go to jail for the more serious crimes that she committed while running with a dangerous crowd of drug dealers and car thiefs (oh yeah, one of the cars stolen was mine, since I let her drive it on the night she left and decided not to come home...the police were no help when I admitted that yes, I had given her the key but not permission to take my car indefinitely).

*I should mention that this is no small issue in my eyes given that nobody in my family has ever gone to jail for anything except the 4 hours my husband spent doing time for picking up mussels on the beach without a license, which is a funny post for another time. It's not like Jerry Springer around here.

When she learned she was pregnant, she was living with her fiance at the time. She called us up and wanted us to meet him. They came over and fixed us dinner. We thought that, all things considered, he seemed like a nice guy...until we learned that he too, was a drug dealer, and packing heat at our house (notice the jacket? He never took it off)! We later learned that he also trafficked in fake payroll checks among any number of other unknown "trades" and was doing very well financially. He was also in this country illegally. And while he may be Julian's biological father (he's not on the birth certificate and no paternity tests have been taken since he is nowhere to be found...we hope he is either in prison or back in his home country), he has had no contact with our daughter or Julian since she was about 2 months pregnant. At that time, they broke up, and our daughter asked if she could move back home. We saw this as an opportunity for her to clean up her life and get off of the destructive path she was on, so we ultimately agreed, with a lot of conditions. And basically that is what she did until Julian was born.

During the months she was living with us, we tried counseling her about placing her baby for adoption. We knew she was not ready to be a mother and abortion was not an option (despite her careless and unscrupulous lifestyle, she feels strongly about abortion, so I give her some credit). And despite her adamant resistance, we continued to hold out hope that time would change her mind and we thought we had plenty of that. Until Father's Day, when, 10 weeks early, Julian decided to enter the world before anything could change her mind.

Fast forward, through 6 weeks in the NICU, bringing home a 5 pound preemie (still a full month earlier than his gestational birthday), many sleepless nights, difficulties bonding with a baby that interfered with her "freedom," lots of babysitting on our end while she got her first real job in over a year and a half, working evenings as a waitress (we were thrilled that she was on the right track even if this meant more babysitting for us...it helped relieve some of her stress which made her easier to live with and frankly, we relished the alone time with Julian). Eventually though, exhaustion, depression and temptation got the better of her. Hanging out with friends at work after hours lead first to late nights, then to all nights, then to several all nights in a row of partying while we sat home with Julian wondering where (in the HELL?!) is his mother and what does she think she's doing and why won't she even answer her phone, let alone call to let us know where she is?!?! Well, you get the picture. Basically, we freaked out, bought some home test kits for her drug of choice, methamphetamine, and sure enough, she was using again. Initially, we insisted that if she wanted to continue living in our house, she had to stop using and get into a recovery program. She did that, but prior to our Christmas vacation, she dropped out of ithe program. We tested her again before we left and sure enough, she was still using. The withdrawals made her a bear to travel with! We went on vacation anyway and had serious reservations about leaving her with Julian alone in the care of other family members (namely her mother who is at least now a recovering alcoholic and knows about her daughter's "issue" and was prepared to intervene if problems arose). Still, we worried, but then, a miracle happened...Julian got sick with brochiolitis and had to be hospitalized. Our daughter's motherly instincts kicked up a notch and she actually remained clean throughout the vacation and things were good until just before Valentine's Day. We began to have hope that maybe she was really committed to a life of change and we talked to her about resuming the recovery program "just in case." She thought she could do it on her own.

When the inevitable relapse happened again, this time we kicked her out (she was already out...we simply told her that she wasn't welcome back into our house until she checked into a fulltime in-patient program and committed to a long-term treatment program following that. Truly committed. At that time, thank God, Julian was already in our care, so we didn't have to wonder and worry about where he was while she was out "partying." Our biggest fear has always been that she might "run" with him although honestly, she sees him as a noose around her neck and would love it if we would take him off her hands. Our second biggest fear is that Julian might become a pawn in her hands, a way to get what she wants when she needs it (welfare assistance, for example), a thing to call her own, something to fight for, but not someone to love and nurture and care for like he deserves. I didn't want this to be a case of history repeating itself, much like her own mother who fought for custody of two girls that she later admitted she had no business raising in her condition.

At first, we had some hope that she would check into a program and make the right decision. That was foolish on our part. Since we kicked her out, we have received two phone calls, each time she claimed to be in a program (we confirmed with her employer that she had requested a leave of absence, but we couldn't confirm anything with the facility). And both times, her cell phone log betrayed her. It appears that she may have checked in twice, judging by the lack of calls for a few days at a time, but it also appears she checked out, judging by the round-the-clock phone calls following the "quiet" days. But none of those phone calls were to us and none of our phone calls to her were answered. I can't tell you how utterly angry, hateful, frustrated, disappointed, and terribly sad this makes me.

Yesterday morning, before my husband went to work, she showed up at our door crying, for the first time in over a month. She claimed that she missed her son (whom she hadn't even asked about for over a month), but she went first to her room to gather up some things. I jumped out of bed when I heard her talking and ran to Julian's room like a mother bear protecting her cub. I begged my husband to stay home until she left (we both agreed she could not stay) because I couldn't trust her with him and he couldn't trust me with her! When she finally asked to hold Julian (he woke up during the commotion and I was holding him), I hesitated at first, but with my husband as back-up, I handed him over and pleaded with her not to cry and upset him. She cried anyway, and then he cooed and smiled and giggled at her, making all of us cry. I really thought after that, that our offers to drive her straight back to the rehab facility might be accepted, but instead, she asked to be dropped off at the Quik Trip in her old stomping grounds.

At this point, I hold no hope for her recovery. She has been given more chances than many and yet, if she were a drowning victim in the high seas, she refuses to grab the rope. Now, our only focus is on finalizing the paperwork and proceedings to become Julian's legal guardians (a process we temporarily put on hold over the holidays and then some, while the situation appeared to improve) and to provide him the best we have to offer.

All that to say, I really need your help. Julian is not the problem. Our daughter is not even the problem. The fact that I am still working part-time when I'd like nothing better than to stay home with him full-time is not the problem. The fact that as of April 15th, I'll be able to stay with him full-time but then won' t be making any money is not the problem. All of those are worries that can and do cause me to cry, but the real problem is the resentment and anger and something that borders on hatred that I feel towards her right now. I don't want this to affect my relationship with Julian and I don't want it to affect his life anymore than the issues surrounding his mother and father already will. I know some might say that placing him for adoption would be the best choice, to remove him from the situation completely, but I assure you, there is no place in our hearts to do that. I need your experiences, expertise, prayers, wisdom, guidance, whatever you can offer. My problems may be few but they run deep and most of them stem from my fierce stubborness and self-reliant independence. For me to move on right now, I really need help with forgiveness. I know, intellectually, that this is what I need to do, but emotionally, I'm on a very slippery slope...

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family, Insanity

posted by Gwynne @ 12:05 PM 13 comments

Knock, Knock

Is anybody out there?

I know it's been awhile. I'm not myself lately. Life has been hard. Not as hard as it gets, by any means, but frustratingly challenging as compared to the easy life to which I've become accustomed. And while it might prove to be an interesting topic for the tabloids someday, I'm afraid I'm still so enveloped in the details that I can't muster up the strength to write about it. I'll let a few bullet points serve as a place marker for the day when I can look back and laugh. That day will come, right? Right?!

Yesterday marked my informal last day of gainful employment (yes, I realize this is a time when people are losing their long-time jobs and bemoaning the fact that they are woefully unemployed...and yet, somehow, I don't care). It's been a fast paced furious march towards the day that would really be my official last day...12/31/08 (but since I will be on vacation for the duration, yesterday was my informal "last day," and it went mostly unnoticed and uncelebrated by my co-workers, in part because there are so many loose ends that I will have to return to the office upon returning to clean things out...that, and I agreed to assist on a contract basis through 4/15 as long as I could work from home...so really? I'm not free yet). This march has involved a lot of lengthy transition conversations with clients and co-workers as well as year-end planning for my soon-to-be former clients. Along the way, I've had a number of conversations about outsourcing tax services to other CPAs as well as a few of my clients who prefer not to be "transitioned" to anyone else. And while I wasn't looking for this kind of work, the requests have offered some assurance that perhaps we won't go hungry.

November 4th marked the day we checked our daughter into outpatient drug rehab. While we were very disappointed to discover she had returned to a habit she developed before getting pregnant, we were optimistic when she acknowledged that she needed help and volunteered to seek treatment.

December 14th marked the day we committed to taking steps to obtain guardianship of our grandson when our daughter tested positive yet again for crystal meth...it has become painfully obvious that she can't work on recovery and parenting at the same time, especially when she is only partially committed to both...so we will do the parenting...and we pray that she will choose to commit to her recovery, but we're not very optimistic...this breaks our hearts, but we know she is in God's capable hands.

The vacation? Those with babies will, I think, appreciate the sheer insanity of this...we are currently en route to CA, and Seattle, starting in Kansas City...by car...with a 6 month old baby and his drug addict mother. The trip started just 5.5 hours ago. I'll update as I feel motivated, but so far, so good. I can only report that so far, the daughter and grandson have slept the entire way. The funny part is the luggage ratio. While the adults are carrying roughly 1/8 their body weight, the baby is packing roughly 10 times his...everything from clothes and blankets, diapers and formula to a crib, stroller and bathtub, and everything in between. Should we encounter a blizzard, we're all prepared to live on formula and wrapped in baby blankets for a few days.

Okay, that was a bit more than a bullet point list, but still...there's so much more...

But in all the "blah," Julian makes us smile and giggle every day. He's doing great, growing faster than a beansprout and making us happy. He's already 18 pounds and very healthy, according to his 6-month checkup last week.

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family, Toil and trouble, Travel

posted by Gwynne @ 4:00 PM 8 comments

With Family

With Great-Granddad (and Leah)

With Great-Grammie (and Leah)

With Cousin Erin

With Great-Uncle David

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family

posted by Gwynne @ 1:45 PM 8 comments

Trying To Be Still

So yes, I decided to go ahead with my plans to take a solo trip to the Pacific Northwest. Time will tell if that was a good decision or not. There have been a few rough moments, but I keep reminding myself that I can go back early if needed. For now, all is well on the homefront. Julian is stable but the doctors still don't know what kind of blood infection he is suffering. He is doing a little bit better today and they plan to resume feeding tomorrow if his condition is improved. I just talked to the doctor and while they can't rule it out yet, they don't think it is NEC, but if it is, he's on the correct antibiotic for that as well. Mama and DiDa (grandpa) were in good spirits after their visit with him this afternoon. Scary stuff, this preemie business. The nurses in the NICU really amaze me. And I think my job is stressful!

While it has been more difficult to relax and have a good time knowing that times are not so relaxing and fun back home, I am trying to set a daily goal of doing something productive each day while trying not to push myself so hard that it becomes work. The weather has been wonderfully cooperative...bright blue skies with a few large puffy white clouds and 70 degrees. So far, my itinerary has been as follows:

Saturday: Arrived at 10:00 am, drove up to the Pike Market to buy a flower bokay for the boat. As luck would have it, there was a Bed, Bath and Beyond right next to the Market. So I decided to take care of buying all the new linens/blankets/pillows/towels while I was there. After loading up the trunk of my economy rental car with much goose down, I headed over to the market where I bought a BIG gorgeous bokay of two-toned peach and yellow peonies, calla lilies and some sort of white bonnet shaped flower for only $15. I hauled all of this back to Tacoma where the boat rests and made several trips to unload it all. Every time I lifted a bag up to put it on the boat, I feared I might drop something in the water. So Day 1, I made the beds.

Sunday: I spent most of the morning on the phone with my family and on the internet researching preemie medical conditions. Then I made a thorough search of the internets for real estate in the area. We've started to think that we need a place on dry land to store all of our crap, and we might as well invest in the market while it's down instead of paying rent on a storage unit. But mostly, this was an exercise in futility given that we don't have enough money to buy a piece of property and quit my job without first selling our existing home and we're not ready to do that yet. But it was also good to scout out the various neighborhoods in the region so that when we're in Kansas City, we'll know how to narrow our searches. In the process, I did a lot of driving, and crossed a lot of the houses/neighborhoods off the list as undesirable (what we can afford tends to be in the seediest parts of town and/or in the most remote rural areas). I did find three properties of interest, all very different, which I'll stick in a file for future reference: one 1910 Craftsman bungalow in Old Town Tacoma, a lovely neighborhood of similar bungalow style homes (if there is a single style that I absolutely love, it is the American Bungalow); one Lincoln Log cabin in the woods on 1.5 acres; and 1 small house and 1 acre on an island . Day 2-I drove around.

Monday: After a wonderful breakfast at the Renaissance Cafe (a wonderfully non-franchise sort of place that whips their perfectly scrambled eggs with an espresso machine steamer), I set out to clean the boat's interior. It amazes me that boat brokers, if not the owners who wish to sell their boats, don't do a better job of cleaning them up before putting them on the market. In our 2 year search, we looked at a lot of boats and nearly every one of them was dirty and messy with personal items that could easily have been thrown in the garbage to improve the "curb appeal" dramatically. But they don't, so I did. I went through with reckless abandon and if it was old and grungy (who wants to sleep under some stranger's filthy old blanket?) or if I didn't know what it was, or if I didn't want it (who wants an old stunt kite with broken parts or a 7th ratty life vest when 6 brand new ones will do?), it went in the garbage. I also scrubbed every bathroom and kitchen surface and swiffered to my heart's content. When all was done, I felt a real sense of accomplishment. I celebrated by going to the laundry mat, to wash the new towels and a couple of the old blankets worth salvaging. I also stopped in at the Big Lots store, not sure what I might find there. I ended up stocking up the medicine cabinet and the snack cupboard (with mixed nuts and other snack foods). One never knows what one may find at Big Lots! Day 3, I cleaned.

Tuesday (so far): Day 4-While I waited anxiously for the phone call re: Julian, I sat in the cockpit of the boat, listening to Croatian music on the stereo, reading an Anne Perry novel, enjoying the pleasant breeze and a parade of Canadian geese while drinking an entire pot of coffee all myself (well, 6 cups was all I made). Later, after finally getting the call and learning that Julian was at least no worse and my family was in good spirits, I drove down to the waterfront for a long walk, ordered fish and chips on the pier and drove again through a beautiful park that I "discovered" on Sunday. I may still do some exterior clean-up on the boat...the next project involves scrubbing/washing the exterior of the boat and then sanding down the woodwork for revarnishing. Real work. But it's 5:30 pm already and I haven't started that yet. :-) Day 4, I rested.

I feel like it's been a productive and mostly relaxing trip so far, at least as productive and relaxing as it is meant to be. I'm spending a lot more of it just trying to be still...and quiet, listening and praying.

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family, Travel

posted by Gwynne @ 5:55 PM 8 comments

Spartacus

Julian was one week old yesterday. And it was a good week. Both mom and baby were doing very good, better than anyone expected. So good that I decided to go ahead with my trip to Seattle/Tacoma, where I now sit typing this. He was breathing on his own (and had been since day 1), eating breast milk (albeit through a small tube in his nose so as not to overfeed him), putting on weight (almost back to his birth weight), and his coloring was good (he's been put under a special light for jaundice a couple times, but they say this is normal for preemies). But as Murphy would dictate, almost as soon as I arrived here (one day later), I got word that things might not be going so well for poor Julian.

Yesterday (Sunday), after 4 days of successful feedings and bowel movements(!), the nurse noticed a little blood in his stool. They immediately pulled him off of real food (replacing it with a fluid IV) and started running tests to rule out NEC, an intestinal disease that affects preemies with alarming frequency. If it is NEC, this could be very serious. Many babies do not survive (although, if I am to be an optimist, I should say that many DO! I don't know what the odds are, but according to one non-medical website I visited, 50% survive). So far, all of the tests and doctor reports are good , but they did detect an infection in his blood this morning and put him on antibiotics immediately. The x-rays didn't reveal any tissue damage, but we won't know until tomorrow what kind of infection this is. Until then, we are praying it is not NEC and that Julian is able to fight the infection as stoically as he has fought everything else thus far. We would really appreciate your prayers also.

My husband has nicknamed him Spartacus, "because Spartacus always wins." :-)

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family

posted by Gwynne @ 11:51 AM 4 comments

Julian Anthony

Are You My Mother?

Priceless*

Regarding the meaning of names, I think it's funny how much people get caught up in them when a child is born, but how little it matters later in life. It's just a name! But we laughed over this one...our daughter's first choice/suggestion (realize this is in the recovery room, upon just learning that she has given birth to a boy instead of a girl) was Fabian. We all laughed and said, "NO!" (thinking of the 1950's pop star by this name). It got even better though, when we opened the baby book and discovered that it meant, "one who picks beans." Being that the father is Mexican, this seemed like a politically incorrect choice, but we all got a good laugh out of it. It turns out that there is also a Saint (Pope) Fabian who died in 250 AD to whom a chapel on the Island of Brac, Dalmatia (Croatia) is dedicated, so maybe we shouldn't have been so quick to judgement on that one. Anyway, so began the long search for a name. When our daughter suggested Angel (and all I could envision was a tattoo on some gangter girl's arm of her incarcerated boyfriend's name, Angel), we countered with Gabriel. She tried on Gabriel for size, but it just didn't fit (so we all agreed that maybe the angel of death was not our best choice...but hey, it also means "Man of God" which would be nice). Then we tried on Michael, another angel, but that is my nephew's name so it was nixed as a first name. We later tried this as a middle name and came close to Julian Michael.

Aside from being a variation of Julias (meaning Jove's child, from Roman mythology) the name, Julian, has very little meaning (unless "youthful" is meaningful to you). We simply liked the name and it fits him.

* Updated, to add that Anthony, another strong Roman name meaning "priceless," was suggested by my husband who is of the Roman Catholic persuasion. Ultimately, our daughter was convinced. :-)

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family

posted by Gwynne @ 9:51 PM 4 comments

Miracles

Born 6:15 pm on 6-15-08 (3.5 pounds, 16.5 inches, 2 hours old)

(Approx. 14 hours old)

Labels: Baby Spartacus, Family

posted by Gwynne @ 10:13 AM 10 comments

Check, Please!

Okay, so here's the latest:

The oldest daughter, almost 7 months pregnant, is in jail, and the youngest daughter, almost an "adult," is in California. You do the math. My head hurts!

So why is the 19-year old in "prison?" Because she chose the path of least resistance in dealing with (or not dealing with) fines imposed on her for speeding and other infractions. And she knew better than to ask us to bail her out. We did not even have to say "I told you so." Do the crime, do the time. It's a well known line in our house. She's scheduled to be there for 16 days, working off fines at $50/day. I know this seems harsh, especially since she is pregnant and all, but seriously, isnt' that why we have a legal system? What I fail to understand is why people who are convicted of much worse crimes manage to get off without doing any time?

And somewhere, I must have missed the part in the parenting manual about how to instill the fear of being incarcerated. It seems like this should be intuitive (I did offer up reminders..."you know, if you don't pay those tickets, you'll be arrested and thrown in jail"), but apparently, this fear is not innate. It must be taught. To me, being incarcerated is something to be avoided at all costs. The humility of it all is enough for me, but throw in the loss of freedom, rights and privileges, and negative impact on my future prospects for a job, and I never, ever want to go to jail. The closest I've ever come is taking a tour of the prison where my step-father worked (home to the late Ike Turner and Tex Watson). Count me out!

Today, we went to visit her, on the one day that inmates are allowed to have visitors. We were only allowed a half hour on the telephone separated by glass (but because we were the only visitors, we got to stay as long as we wanted). The whole scene was very surreal. I've never visited a prisoner before, so any visitation was bound to feel surreal, but because she is not a serious threat, she's been shipped off to a private facility that outsources minimum security inmates for the overflowing county jails. This facility is about an hour from our home, in a very small farm town, at the end of a run-down residential street (the kind of street populated with trailers and dogs and small kids in diapers and scattered toys). The building was one of those aluminum sided agriculture barn-type buildings. You would never guess it is a jail, except for the constant unloading of new prisoners through the roll-up garage doors. We walked around to the entrance and entered a very quiet visiting check-in area (it reminded me of a grade school office). We never went through any metal detectors and we weren't strip searched or anything. The sad part was that we couldn't give her a hug. We also couldn't see the inside of where she is living for 16 days, but as she described it, it is a very dismal, animalistic place to be, not unlike being held inside a chicken coop (only chickens would make better cell mates, I imagine). We are anxious to have her back home and hope she learns from this experience. Please pray for her.

And the other one too!

After the emotional roller coaster ride this past week or so, the younger one decided that it was imperative to her mental health that she go back to California. She does not understand how it is that anyone can stand to live in Misery (Missouri, for the undereducated). And even though the odds are stacked against her, she was determined enough to work out a more thoughtful exit strategy than the last failed attempt. So, this time, we worked with her. She bought her own plane ticket, packed her own bags, listened to our pleas to reconsider her decision, enjoyed two parties with her parents (my friend's birthday party Friday night and my husband's friend's wedding Saturday night...we even danced together as a family at the wedding...this NEVER happens!), and then we drove her to the airport Sunday morning. We said a very tearful goodbye. She is going back to a lot of unknowns...where to live, where to work, where to go to college. She has friends who are helping her, but she is truly on her own to make this work. She's a very determined young girl with a lot of potential who feels it is absolutely necessary that she live in California to be happy. We are praying hard for her as well.

Labels: Family

posted by Gwynne @ 10:57 PM 10 comments

Dreaming of Circus Elephants...

...in the basement...with the dogs.

Last night's tornado threats were very real, but only in Kansas would you expect to find Circus Elephants traipsing through the backyard. When this happens, we all take note, pack up the valuables in a laundry basket and carry them down to the basement, to wait out the storm.

We also carry the elderly dog down since he cannot walk down the stairs on his own (note to self...next time, do not lift the heavy dog under its windpipe when doing this...it causes much unnecessary hacking/gagging/spitting up and concern for the rest of the family members who think you've just killed the family's favorite pet). Cocoa, the worrier, runs up and down the stairs while we do this which sometimes results in spilling of the valuables and/or elderly dog down the stairs. So we exercised an excessive amount of expletives in getting people, animals and things to the basement. Then we hunkered down in front of the teevee, to watch the radar and weatherpeople tell us what to expect, when and where. Then, almost as soon as we sit down, the satellite signal went out (thank you, DISH) and so we were left in the basement with only ourselves, and a weather radio, listening to the rain and hail and howling wind outside.

When the weather calmed down a bit, but the threat of tornadoes still present, the others decided to head back upstairs to the comfort of their real beds while I decided to sleep downstairs on the couch...with the dogs (since, to take the elderly one back upstairs would require carrying him, or walking him around the house outside in the rain)...where I dreamt of circus elephants in our house.

Related, I stayed home from work yesterday, to tend to the younger daughter who was experiencing a lot of anxiety...an emotional rollercoaster (yes, I've made an appointment with a psychiatrist). One of the funnier moments of the day (maybe the only funny moment) was when she told me that she thought her "real purpose in life was to be a circus speaker." I laughed and said, "do you mean a circus performer?" I agreed that maybe she'd make a great circus act, but she corrected me, "NO! I said CIRCUIT speaker, you know, one of those people who goes around speaking about how they screwed up their life and now they're making a living by talking about it?" Oh, okay. I preferred "circus act" myself. ;-\

Labels: Family, Weather

posted by Gwynne @ 9:20 AM 7 comments

17 (Almost 18)

I'm getting ready to violate one of my own blogging rules (i.e. thou shall not post stories about thy children which might later be used against thee in a court of law) to share a little testimony. I also need to document this in the permanent record for discussion later with her probation officer, but that's another story altogether.


First, a little character development...to say the youngest daughter has a flair for the dramatic is an understatement. She's always excelled in drama and linguistics (we've told her she should be a trial lawyer). She's also beautiful and intelligent, but does not know the meaning of the word "moderation" (e.g. yesterday, I watched her whisk in 6 (SIX!) Equal packets to her small vanilla white chocolate mocha). The perfect metaphor for her life was discovered the other day when she was cooking (scorching) scrambled eggs and I suggested turning down the heat. She responded with, "I cook everything on high. It cooks faster that way. Go away!" And that is how she lives her life, everything on high, all the time, without assistance. Impetuous, Impatient, Independent.

So we were not terribly surprised to hear (via a frantic phone call from her sister) that she was on her way to the Greyhound station, California bound, late Thursday night. She was supposed to be at a friend's house. She left our house after a heated argument with her dad involving broccoli (oh sure, we're laughing about it now), chores, respect and use of the family car. We were not surprised to hear she was headed for the bus station because a) she tried leaving the house with a suitcase full of clothes, saying she was going back to California (she ultimately ran out the door with a purse full of books...she's an avid reader...aside from the gravity of the situation, the sight of a runaway carrying nothing but a big leopard print purse overflowing with books is quite comical), and b) she's independent enough and fearless enough to carry through. But we were very distressed.

I called the bus station to see if there was anything we could do to stop her from leaving (there wasn't enough time to drive to the bus station before the bus was scheduled to leave). I spoke to an undercover detective who was stationed there. He told me that the laws in MO prevented him from stopping her (the laws of MO are actually a contradiction...while parents are responsible for their kids until they are 18, teenagers are considered emancipated at age 17, meaning they are free to run without interference and without responsibility, since their parents are still responsible for their actions...an insane law that puts 17-year-olds in a position of untouchability), but he promised to keep an eye out and check the passenger manifest. I hung up the phone, called her cell phone, left a message that we loved her and wanted her to come back home, and then prayed, because I knew she was not in our hands at that point. The detective called back an hour later to tell me that she did in fact present herself at the counter to buy a ticket, but they couldn't sell it to her because the bus was full. He said she was still there with a friend but there were no other busses running to CA until the next day. Thank you, God! A few minutes later (now about 1:00 am), she called to say that she had decided not to go afterall, no mention of the fact that the bus was full. And I didn't tell her I knew otherwise. I'm just thankful that she recognized the "intervention" for what it was, a wake up call.

I took Friday afternoon off to spend some time with her. She apologized. We kissed and made up, for now. There will be more drama between now and the date she turns 18. I could say that 18 can't come soon enough, but truth is, we don't stop loving our kids once they become "adults." We still want to help them find happiness.

Labels: Family

posted by Gwynne @ 9:56 AM 5 comments

Lessons

Yesterday, I retrieved the Grasshopper from the body shop...$9,628. Value of being able to drive it home...priceless.

Yesterday, the neighbors finally had a replacement mailbox installed (which means their rural postal carrier no longer has to get out of her car and walk up to the house...I gave them the insurance claim info the day of the accident). They were sitting on the porch as I drove by in the newly revived Grasshopper so we exchanged waves. They told my husband that they thought about putting a big target on the side of their mailbox for my benefit. It's nice to have such understanding neighbors. I think. :-)

Yesterday, I taught our 17-year old how to use the new washing machine (she's been here almost a month and is only now realizing that if she wants clean clothes, she may need to pick them up off her floor and wash them). This morning, at exactly 15 minutes before we had to leave for work, she began washing a load that included her work shirt, not thinking about how long it would take to wash and then dry the load. So she went to work wearing a dirty wet t-shirt.

Yesterday, my younger brother was released from the hospital following a heart attack scare that landed him in the emergency room the night before. He says it was stress related but he's okay (they don't think it was a heart attack). We discussed the value of lessons learned and more importantly, of listening. We both work in stressful fields and we both take our work too seriously for our own (and our family's) good. He reminded me that God doesn't always give us second chances.

Since my last post, the 19-year old mother-to-be, has moved back home and we are thrilled. We have had some good quality time together and she has finally acknowledged that life out on her own was a lot harder than she thought it would be. She listens to her 17-year old ("I'm almost 18! I'm almost an adult! I can do anything I want! I can't wait to get out of here!") sister and just smiles. They all learn, eventually. We hope.

Labels: Family

posted by Gwynne @ 2:46 PM 9 comments

Sluggish

Okay, where was I? I've been a little out of touch lately. Ever since the big crash...






I've had a hard time bouncing back from the tax season "finale." There have been a few shake-ups on the home front as well. For one, the 17-year old has come back home to roost (flying in from CA where her mother decided that her rebellious teenage behavior was more than she could handle...we've also had our fair share of exhausting exchanges of wills and egos, but nothing like her mother was dealing with, which shall remain private*). We always said her strong-willed, inner-directed nature would be a handful when she hit this age, but we couldn't have predicted just how difficult. Whew! Tax season was almost a breeze by comparison.

The 19-year old, the one who was going to get married on Valentine's Day, is living on her own, albeit very tenuously, and is now expecting a baby in August. The once-upon-a-time fiance, aka "the baby's daddy," is no longer in the picture. This whole situation tears me up and I wish I could think of a positive and/or humorous spin to put on it, but I can't. We have talked about the adoption option (and the courage it would take to go down that path). She's not decided against adoption yet, but I can tell she is already emotionally invested in the baby's life.

Needless to say, this puts our departure for the Pacific Northwest on hold for now. Not that we had any immediate plans to sail away. We knew it would be a slow transition, but we really didn't expect all this.

Oh! And my other job? The the jewelry making business? Yes, well, it seems I had a product defect in the type of crimp beads I was using, so one by one, I was getting calls from my customers (friends) telling me that the bracelet, necklace, etc. had just broken. Aye!! So last week, I recalled it all and spent Saturday doing warranty work. Not quite as serious as the other issues, but still, that stinks.

I was very thankful for the opportunity to take a long nap yesterday. On the bright side, my eyes are much better (the pressure is much lower, thanks to the medication), the goldfish didn't die when I changed his tank, the dogs' health is much better, the carpet is clean, there's food in the refrigerator and gas in the cars.

Labels: Family

posted by Gwynne @ 7:38 PM 11 comments

My Holy Week

Updated to say sorry, to anyone using a reader, for all the edits to this post... :-)

Do you know how hard it is to find a face cream that doesn't promise to do all sorts of other age-defying tricks, doesn't contain sunscreen (to which I know I am alergic) and doesn't contain mineral oil, which actually sucks the moisture out of your skin? Frankly, I don't care how old I look if I could just get rid of the itchiness, redness and swelling around my eyes. I've determined that it all started with basic dry skin, brought on by the dry air of winter and a fair dose of stress. It became an itchy mess when I began putting various age-defying potions on it to take away the dryness, and then became worse when I tried to cover up the redness with make-up, and it didn't get better with the aid of benadryl, cortisone cream or Gold Bond powder. I'm a mess as it is, getting only a few hours of sleep a night. We really don't need to accentuate it with the red splotches and puffy, flaky eyelids. Seriously. But I think I've finally found a moisturizer that will do only that, moisturize (Oil of Olay cold cream for sensitive skin) and finally the itching and splotching and puffiness are going away. Finally. I still look extremely fatigued, but it's getting better. Thanks for asking.

The rest of my Holy Week as gone thus such...

Yesterday was the highlight of my week, the day that Maxine came to get her taxes done. I love Maxine because for all of her 80 years, she looks about 95 years old but acts like a sarcastic 45 year old. She and I were both wearing colorful Spring outfits from Coldwater Creek (from last year's "collection"), so we lavished each other with compliments on our respective wonderful tastes. She doesn't smoke or drink, otherwise, I'd say she's a lot like the Maxine in the comic strip. Maxine is the only person whose taxes I do while she waits (there was one other this year, but he was an exception). That's because it takes everything out of her to come in for the drop off and it takes just an hour or so to get it done. Otherwise it would take about 3 weeks to turn it around given the back-up in our office right now, and who knows how many hours would be spent just picking it up and putting it down. This act of "kindness" on my part required that I use the dreaded new tax software. So this year it took an hour and a half. When all was completed, Maxine pulled out of her briefcase a gift for me...Fortune, a Beanie Baby, born 3/17/07 "because I work with people's fortunes, not because it will bring me good luck." In return, I unloaded a bunch of "free" paper clips and binder clips into her briefcase. She has a thing for paper clips and rubber bands, you know. I can't tell you how many times she thanked me for the paper clips. She was thrilled! Then she told me that she just loved watching me work. I asked why? First she asked if I had something wrong with my pinkie finger. I said, not that I know of, why? And she said that the whole time I worked, my pinkie finger kept jutting out, like this...


She said that arthritis has made her pinkie finger start doing this and she wondered if I had pain that made mine act up like this. No, I've never had any pain, but now she has me all sorts of conscientious. Sheesh. Thanks for the beanie baby.

So that was the highlight.

The rest of the week included having to give a last minute, very unprepared presentation about the current state of income taxes to the local estate planning society (a group of attorneys, accountants and insurance/financial advisors). Our scheduled speaker fell through at the last minute...just for comparison, last month's speaker was a nationally respected expert on retirement plan tax law. Of course, I had to stand up in front of them with all the slotchy, puffiness going on. And with the NCAA games in progress, I kept getting interupted by the "master of ceremonies" to let me know that everyone would really like to get going so as not to miss any more of the games than they already had. As president of this group, I was the one who conned him into being the M.C. of what we would call our Member Spotlight Night, so he amused himself and the rest of the group by harassing me...I don't work well under this kind of pressure...I kept losing track of what I was talking about and gave the most disjointed presentation ever. I would hate to see a playback of it, I'm not sure I said a single coherent or relevant thing. I also forgot to pass out my handout, which might have at least given them a takeaway that was better than the speech itself.

The next night, I was so productive at the office that I kept on going until about 1:00 am. I left the office and drove about 2 miles (out of the 35 total miles to my home) and my coolant level warning light came on, just about the time I hit the stretch of highway that goes through the "bad part" of town. I pulled over to the side of the highway and the light went off. Encouraged, I started up again, and the light came back on. I took the nearest exit and pulled into a lighted motel parking lot to read my car owner's manual to see what might be the cause and what would happen if I kept driving. There was not an open gas station in hollaring range, but I do possess a AAA card. Based on what I read, I figured I could keep going slowly, pulling over every mile or so to let it cool down, until I reached a truck stop where I could get some coolant (even though the manual said not to EVER, under any circumstances, use non-VW coolant which you can only get from a dealer). But when I checked the coolant level, it was fine, so I didn't add any coolant but I didn't know what else could be wrong. I waited awhile to let the engine cool, I filled up with gas, I read some more of my manual and saw that it could be the radiator fan belt fuse, or the belt itself. I looked at the fuses and none of them looked out of sorts, although I did not pluck each one out to verify. I might add that doing all of this while dressed in a baby blue suit and high heels, trying not to draw the attention of others was a daunting task in itself. Others out at this late hour, in this part of town, are not the sort you necessarily want helping you. I decided to risk blowing up the engine and continue the drive home, inch by inch, stopping until the light went out and then resuming for a bit more. I finally arrived home about 2:30 am. The next morning, I figured I could drive the other car, but when I went to get in, I noticed the left rear tire was almost flat! I summoned my husband and his air compressor to the rescue. Finally, I was back on the road to the office, arriving about 10:00 to start another day.

And that's the day when I received yet ANOTHER notice that the IRS is going to audit yet another client of mine. I've had more audits this year than in my entire 25-26 year career combined! The IRS is very actively auditing "flow-through" entities out there (S-corporations, partnerships, LLCs), just so you know. Getting that notice is never fun. Even if you've nothing to hide, it's still a big hassle!

The rest of the week was fairly routine but busy. I am very excited about celebrating Easter with my family and relaxing for a few hours.

May you and your families all enjoy a most blessed Easter!

Labels: An Accountant's Life, Family

posted by Gwynne @ 9:58 AM 4 comments