2002 Story Set
| March 27, 2002 We are making it to Team in Training practice on Thursday evenings of late. My younger son's third season as an honoree for the Peninsula Tri Team and this season he is out of the wheelchair. This week the practice was moved to Tuesday. Tuesday AM I got up early. It was time to visit the CPA (which led to good news). And time to go back home and type out the expense spreadsheets and get them back to her so I would not need an extension. Because I will live on the refund for months. My son rolled over and refused to open his eyes. I was up at 5:30AM - full moon and PMS - he rolled out of bed just around 9AM. I managed to get him hardboiled eggs, toast and OJ along with his pills. He is on Progesterone this week. It gives him hot flashes. Many of us can relate to that! I can. Once a month, for 5 days, I am off Estrogen and I have night sweats. So I do understand. You wake up, your skin has a wet sheen on it, your nightgown soaked through, you dry off, put on a new gown, flip the pillow, toss the covers. My house in San Diego has an air conditioner over the master bed. I used to wake up, flip it on in the middle of the night. This was doen for a couple of years before my doctor woke up and decided I needed hormones. And I had been asking. People renting the house think it rather odd to have the airconditioner there. I can't wait to get back to it! My son merely gets up, strips naked, and rolls back into the sheet, his clothes tossed every which way on the floor. Waiting for Mom to go pick his stuff up. I put out clothes for him in the morning, underpants, shirt, shorts. No naked boys in my house. Not when they are 240 lbs and 6'1". I got dressed and left for Mountain View. By the time I got back, he was up and dressed and glued to his computer. He stays on that computer 10-14 hours at a time. He had put on shorts and the tee-shirt. This is a good sign. I walked into the Kitchen. Oh, yes. The boy has been up. In spite of eggs, toast and juice consumed at breakfast, at about 9AM, he had made a Trisket-cheese-hot sauce with spices platter. And eaten it. Detritus was all over the stove. My stove is glass-topped (added counter space) and he had cooked in the microwave. Cheese lay unwrapped. The Trisket box was open. The hot sauce was not refrigerated. I went to his room and commented - "Oh, I was making a second plate." "Well - make it!" I left the kitchen. PMS snit. On changing and returning to the fray, he had his second platter, the mess remained, just rearranged, and he was back in his room. It was only 1PM. So I set about picking up after his cooking. He decided that, since I was now home, he would become helpless again. He called for a drink. Now, note that while I was out he had also made Crystal Light, a full pitcher, and had served himself a glass before I got home. Because the empty cup of powder was also out, as was the turned over container, lidless, with other cups of powder spilling out. This mess was on the side counter. I told him to "get it himself." This prompted a wail of upset, "You don't love your son!" Oh, right. So I brought the brat a drink. I was fetching him food and drink all day after that. "Can I have soup?" "I need ice." Wait just a minute. I may be at home during the layoff, but that does not mean that I am not doing things. Writing my technical eBooks. Writing application notes to publish. Contemplating another textbook I have had in mind for some time. My novels. And, of course, the taxes. Add to this a house that has not been thoroughly cleaned since my son was diagnosed. Actually, before that. Because we were moving him out and then cleaning. I was to have space! Room for my things! He was to be in San Diego! Space for him! Lots of my stuff moved out with him! We were three weeks away from renting a truck! So my new white carpet is dirty gray with spots. I have dishes on the floor. I have cartons all over the garage. I have two pianos, three weight machines and six computers staggered all over the place. I haven't visited my storage area since I moved boxes into it. 15 months? I want to plant tomatoes, squash, cucumbers and onions in the front yard. Put trees for shade in the side yard created when I extended the fence down the addition and added to the dog's run area. Move the second lemon tree that is not doing well next to the clogged sprinkler head. Speaking of which----. Get the supplies to clean the soft tub spa and set it up. Someone is coming to help me on Saturday. Which means I MUST get the supplies. Stuff. He wants to be waited on hand and foot. Well, outside of dropping pills into him, and giving him the occasional injection, it is time to make the boy get things himself. So he decided that he wants to bake yeast bread. Fine. Just let me find my kitchen counter. Shake out the rug. Vacuum the cat littler up. Oh why not. I won't wash the floor 'till he's finished being creative. I am thinking about how messy bread making can be - flour, sugar, shortening, kneading board, and measuring cups. More detritus. Just what I needed. I managed to put this adventure off. Can't find the cookbook. Instead, I typed up the expenses from the checks. Half-way done. Tedious job! I ignored the wails. Things he wanted fetched and carried. At one point I erupted - enough already! He quivered his lower lip and said, "Something is upsetting Buttercup." How can a mother resist that face? I hugged him and brought him a drink. Laid out clothes and he went and showered. ALL BY HIMSELF!! This is a new thing and welcome. I just need to be nearby in case he feels weak or dizzy or is walking with a list to starboard. Before we left for the work out, I made him soup. We needed to drive to the work-out, stand around in the cold (better than last week) and get home at 9PM. He stood most of the time (also good!) and hung over the rail and cheered people on. He was having a good time. I was delighted that he wasn't sitting at a computer and he was walking. 10-15 minutes a day is what he should be doing. Once home, we had hotdogs (all beef) and egg noodles with hot beets for a late supper. Last thing for the day, he demanded tea. He has an uncanny ability to demand things just when I have decided to take a break from chores that I have been doing. Uncanny! His clothes are again strewn all over his room. I drop off the tea. I shake my head and dive under my own covers. I am beat. 120 miles of driving. All that tedious typing. All that fetching and carrying. If I don't pick up his clothes, how long will they stay there? I tried this once before. I always give in before he does. Or else find him standing nearly naked in his room demanding clean clothes. I will deal with this tomorrow. |
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