Author: behoxie

Heroin addiction.  Substance abuse.  Depression.  Mental illness.  Suicide.

STIGMA

Chances are real good that one of the above will affect your life in some way at some time.  Whether it is a parent, a child, a grandchild, niece, nephew, friend, friend’s child, or a co-worker.  No one escapes these afflictions.

If you delve deep enough, there is always, always a back story as to why a person falls into one of the categories that are listed above.  Whether it is a family history of depression, substance abuse, physical or mental abuse, mental disorder; chances are good that the generations before us placed a black veil over it and silence was the golden rule.

Time to lift the stigma veil because there isn’t any one target group here. There’s no more, “No wonder she’s a drug addict, look how screwed up the parents are” or “Hell, he was a freak of nature even in elementary school” or “It’s no wonder….the parents let her have too much freedom.”   There’s ALWAYS an untold story.  There’s ALWAYS a reason a person falls onto one of these paths, and it isn’t necessarily a fault or a weakness.

The mortality rate from Heroin overdose is staggering and still rising.  This is a poem written by a young man presently incarcerated due to drug addiction. Before sharing his full story penned by his own hand, this is a poem he wrote about his journey as a Heroin addict:

The time that I have wasted is my biggest regret,

Spent in these places I will never forget.

Just sitting here thinking about the things I have done,

The crying, the laughing, the hurt and the fun.

Now it’s just me and my hard driven guilt,

Behind a wall of emptiness I allowed to be built.

I’m trapped in my body just wanting to run,

Back to my youth with its laughter and fun.

With reality suddenly right in my face,

I’m scared, alone, and stuck in this place.

Now memories of the past flash through my head,

The pain is obvious by the tears that I’ve shed.

I ask myself why and where I went wrong,

I guess I was weak when I should have been strong.

As I look at my past it’s easy to see,

The fear that I had afraid to be me.

I would pretend to be rugged, so fast and so cool,

when actually I was lost like a blinded old fool.

It’s time that I change and get on with my life,

Fulfilling my dreams for a family and wife.

What the future will hold I really don’t know,

But the years that I have wasted are starting to show.

I just live for the day when I’ll get a new start,

With the dreams I still hold deep in my heart.

I hope I can make it,

I at least have to try,

Because I am heading towards death,

And I don’t want to die.

More to come on all of this………………..

Nothing like writing about white sandy beaches and sunsets when you’re watching a blizzard of white shit dumping snow by the foot from the sky now is there? Sheee-it!

St. Croix or Crotch – Right from the starting gate, the oddest things happened when I boarded the final puddle jumper from San Juan to St. Croix.  First, there was an actual gridlock of wheelchairs lined up to get on the plane, and I didn’t know what the hell to make of that.  It turns out the seniors use this tactic to be the first on the flight and the first off.  They were perfectly spry little old people gathering their luggage and sprinting to the curb for their pick up!  The second thing I noted was all eyes on me.  The white woman.  When I say all eyes, I mean the Cruzan’s have mastered the evil eye and that continued throughout the entire week wherever I went.

Wake up calls – Morning alarm is roosters.  Roosters that roam the entire island.  Brought over from Puerto Rico years ago for cock-fighting, these feral birds strut in packs and cock-a-doodle-do starting at the crack ass of dawn and continue til nightfall and beyond.  Most islanders try not to poison or rid them because some of the destitute in the projects use them as a food source although the meat is stringy and tough due being feral and eating garbage unlike the $12.99 per pound Bell & Evans chickens who are organically fed and tender as a scrambled egg.

“The Stare” – Around mid-week of my stay, I finally asked my daughter and her boyfriend, “What the hell is with the evil eye stare?”  No matter if we were in the car, the Cruzan’s just burn through your soul with that stare.  Thankfully, I’ve got some of the Italian gene in me and can give the, “You’re dead to me” stare too so I just started doing it right back.   Hell, I couldn’t help but stare at some of the Rasta’s with their dredlocked dingleberry balls hanging from their chin beards.  I ask, does one shampoo the crumbs and food out of that thing ever or does it just morph into a green afro of sorts like food left too long in the fridge?

Laws on the Island – From what I saw, this depends on the day, your color, and what applies to some doesn’t necessarily apply to others.  I’m also pretty sure it’s all who you know.  So, same as here in the States.

Welfare – Also no different from here.  Although there are “FREE” condom dispensers in public bathrooms, babies continue to have babies and live off the system.

Driving – You can own and operate a car all without a driver’s license.  Probably not legally, but driving is a totally twisted adventure on this island, and forget the fact they drive on the opposite side than the U.S.   Fun fact:  You know when the driver is sober because they have to weave all over the road to dodge the gargantuan potholes that can take out a tire and rim per week.  When drunk, they drive perfectly straight.

The Cruzan hooligans also believe everyone wants to hear their bass “Fuck-Shit-Bitch” music so their pimped out Honda Civics are equipped with outward facing speaker systems that replace both back windows.  I was totally entertained by these pimped-high decibel cars, and didn’t find them even a fraction as disturbing as the Mr. Softee pedophile ice cream truck that drives past my house at 4:00 every day of the summer playing that creepy “come little children” tune.  It’s also not uncommon to see the Cruzan cowboys and cowgirls on the streets riding bareback to take their horses for a swim.  An awestruck sight to see.

An entire flatbed truck can be filled with toddlers and small children and no seat belts, but the police will pass you and yell over the speaker, “Ma’am, please put your foot back in the vehicle.  Thank you,” as I witnessed firsthand.

Voting Rights – The residents of the U.S. Virgin Islands have none.  The way they figure it as was told to me, “It’s our problem since we vote for an asshole,” and apparently we did.  The end.  St. Croix is just pretty waterfront property owned by the U.S.

Crime – As far as I’m concerned, I think the U.S.V.I. receives a bad rap.  The U.S.V.I. was deemed as a dangerous stop for cruise ship a few years ago, but just as it is here in the States or anywhere else for that matter, you can’t have good without bad and I met some truly wonderful people.  Their lifestyle is definitely laid back and you should prepare to have a 2 hour lunch or a 3 hour dinner.  They don’t have the wherewithal to cave to the neediness of the frenetic, instant-gratification-needed tourists. If you’re respectful, kind, and patient (which they’ll surely note and appreciate), you’ll receive extra bread, a drink on the house, even an upgraded room when your toilet is leaking in your hotel room as I did.  Prior to leaving Sandcastles in Frederiksted, I was hugged and bid farewell by the lovely women who scrubbed and washed the tile pathway outside my door each morning, the young man who set up the beach chairs and umbrellas, and the sweet soul who cleaned my room each day.  Lesson is simple – Be mindful and don’t be a prick.

Unfortunately, I was also witness to tourists who were rude, made disparaging remarks, and talked down to servers.  They received a well deserving mirror of their behavior.  That’s how it works in life.

Hovensa oil refinery – Driving through the abandoned 1,500 acre refinery was like driving through a graveyard. It’s nothing less than a catastrophe, and the U.S. Government deems St. Croix as a monopoly property and give it as much regard as a billionaire does towards one of their multiple vacation properties. I was told the oil refinery was contracted until 2022, but shut down all their refining and processing operations leaving approximately 30,000 unemployed in February 2012.  The plant had been one of the region’s largest oil refiners not to mention the 1,500 acres with rusted abandoned tanks and piping and probable environmental leaks.  This site has the potential of storing 13 million barrels of crude oil.  Something very, very wrong with this picture.

Shopping – There’s the “Cruzan” price and then there’s the “Tourist” price…naturally the tourist price is higher because as far as the Cruzan’s are concerned, we tourists all have deep pockets.  There’s a Kmart as well.  Oh, the bargains there….one side of the display reads, “SALE $15.99” and the other side displays the regular price at $12.99.  You figure it out.

Thanks to my daughter, I did find my ghetto store though….the Burlington Coat Factory of the Island.  It’s called Marianne’s and where I purchased $5 and $7 clothing items – because finding disposable clothes is my true addiction, second only to alcohol consumption.  Speaking of which…..

Cruzan rum – A distillery founded in 1760 in St. Croix USVI and is “the most honored rum distillery in the world.”  Although the rum is produced in St. Croix, it is sent to Kentucky for distributing and then is shipped back to St. Croix for sale.  Makes perfect sense right?  Nothing makes sense here.

We also drove past the Captain Morgan distillery which is powered by solar panels.  The field of solar panels was an incredible sight.  I understand they have a rockin’ tasting tour as well that I’ll hit up on my next go ’round for sure.

The Devil’s lettuce – a staple item for Cruzans.  Take a wild guess what I’m referring to.  It’s definitely growing in random areas because when you’re driving around, all of a sudden you get a wiff of the skunk-like THC from the marry-jee-wanna plants.  You’ll also see plenty of helicopters keeping an eye out for these “High Life Field of Dreams.”

Street Zombies – From time to time, you’ll see these homeless-types slouched against a building, collapsed in front of a parked car.  Legend has it, they ate the devil root – a plant that grows in the bush.

Chaney – Beautiful shards of china that can be found snorkeling or when you’re hunched down long enough on the shoreline grabbing between breaks in the waves.  The word “Chaney” was made up by the local children who would smooth and round the edges of these shards to use as play money combining the word “china” and “money” forever to be known now as “Chaney.”  Some of these pieces are worth a lot of money and locals have made them into jewelry.  Chaney is a true treasure find and can date back as far as the 1700’s unlike sea glass which has now become more of a manufactured item.  Since people have become environmentally conscious and stopped throwing glass overboard, there is less and less authentic sea glass.

I arrived with the spirit of exploration and left 100% intact taking home only appreciation, knowledge, and beautiful images of St. Croix.  Out of the islands I’ve been (Aruba, Jamaica, Bermuda, Bahamas, Puerto Rico Cozumel, Mexico, St. Thomas, St. Maarten, Belize and the ones I’ve forgotten about), St. Croix has been the most beautiful and magical by far. This island has so much to offer in:  Culture, history, magnificent beaches, Caribbean waters, Moko Jumbie rain forest spirits, and Point Udall, the most Eastern point of the United States.  If you catch the sunrise on January 1st at Point Udall, you are the first to see it in all of the U.S. for the New Year.  It’s considered a very spiritual experience by the natives.

Cheers to St. Croix and all its quirkiness that befits my personality, and I look forward to witnessing another “green flash” of one its spectacular sunsets some day soon.

A special thanks to my daughter, Johnnie Angel, and the Freedom City Surf Family who treated me with open hearts and such graciousness as hosts. 

Next up, Freedom City Surf & Beach Grille.  Like an Italian kitchen in Little Italy, you’ll get what Mama’s serving up that day and you WILL EAT IT & I GUARANTEE YOU WILL LOVE IT.  As a good Italian Mother, there is always something for everyone…..even that pain-in-the-ass finicky brat of the family.  To be continued……

“24 Hours and it’s over” – C.A.S.

We’re a mere 15 days into the New Year and so far I’ve searched for a missing person, impacted by the tragic death of that sweet soul, took in another border into my home, and hopped a flight to the U.S. Virgin Islands.  Although I hope to provide a chuckle here and there, I hope this post will serve as a lesson of sorts for all; and no matter what happens in your 24 hours, the sun will rise and set each day.  It’s guaranteed unless of course you’re going by the Mayan calendar whereas we were supposed to be smoked out in 2012 and since that theory went down the shitter, the next prediction was an apocalypse in 2015.  I think I’m still here ….then again maybe it’s just a kick ass dream because…

I’m writing from the beautiful Island of St. Croix or Saint Crotch as I like to refer to it.  We state-siders thought we coined the term, “Can’t make this shit up” to describe our dysfunctional lives, but the Cruzan’s really do have the market cornered on this saying.  I was actually denied helping serve at the beach bar where my daughter works because I hadn’t shit in a cup.  In order to receive your health card to serve food here, you have to shit in a cup.  How appetizing.  Sadly, I can’t pitch in when the two cruise ships dock this weekend.  I’ll just have to sit back, relax, and refill my umbrella drinks.

Let me explain the 24 hours and it’s over.  After my Mom died over 17 years ago, my Dad looked upon any holiday, birthday or celebration with the thought that “24 hours and it’s over” all thanks to our parish Monsignor who shared that phrase with him soon after my Mother’s death.  The same Monsignor who embezzled $1.2 million from our parish, so I’d say his take was he made it through another 24 hours without getting caught – not yet anyway.  So, I would venture to say my Father deemed all celebrations empty without my Mother to share them with.  I couldn’t comprehend this pessimistic train of thought for many years since he was surrounded by a multitude of family and friends, yet now it’s completely understandable since we’ve all done a little delving into our family history.  Thanks also to some added information from Ancestry.com that led us to having him answer some pointed questions about his past and family tree.

By the second day of the New Year, I had a revelation that maybe my dear old Pop’s wasn’t so off his nut after all because it’s all about interpretation.  On January 1st, my family was frantically searching for a beloved family member who left home at odds.  24 hours later, she was found and 24 hours after that, funeral arrangements were being made.

So, as I sit here looking at the 12 aqua shades of the Caribbean with blue sky over head watching a horse go for a morning swim with his owner, I think to myself I’ve had an absolutely blissful 24 hours.   Therefore, I’m beginning to think along these lines now:  A horrific 24 hours will come to an end just as a blissful 24 hours will come to an end.  It’s all about living in the in between:  Making memories, spending time with people you love, and being conscious of what you give of yourself and the energy that surrounds you.

You’ll find this sign hanging or displayed in most or all of my extended family’s homes including mine.  Now that I’m successfully deleting overloaded brain files with sunshine and liquor, I’ve had time to process what happened in just the last 3 weeks.  I hosted a Christmas Eve dinner for approximately 35 or more people.  I had to stop counting because I ran out of chairs and cutlery, but I knew it would work out.  I continue to place complete faith in where kindness is extended, kindness is returned and I’ve stopped worrying about shit because I have devoted angels that have to constantly work overtime on my behalf (both divine spirits and mortal) and I didn’t so much as flinch when I spilled the 30 pound tray of chicken scarpiello all over my oven door 15 minutes prior to my guest’s arrival.  I stood there mute and frozen while 4 human angels sopped it up back into the pan. Yup, whomever ate it had oven door chicken scarp – 30 second rule….more like 5 minutes…..sorry.  The oven was on all damn day so I’m sure the door was at a sterilized stage.  Don’t worry, they didn’t put the shit that spilled onto the floor back in the pan.  The point is,  I would never turn anyone away that didn’t have a place to go as I know holidays can be the toughest time of the year for so many people.  Add to that, I suck ass in portion control as I’m constantly reminded by my children, and I make enough of each food to serve an entire homeless shelter just with the leftovers alone.

After all was said and done, my youngest daughter who did most of the clean up with her man, gave me some advice for next year’s Christmas Eve.  “Buy a ticket.  Go away.  That shit was crazy woman.”  Without even knowing what was coming down the pike, I reminded her of something my brother said as part of his speech at his daughter’s wedding a few years back, “This group of people will never be in the same place at the same time ever again,” and it had come to fruition once again.  Take nothing for granted.  It may have been mayhem, tight seating, and we may not have had it all together, but at least we were all together because another special soul will not be there to share the next Christmas Eve.  At least not in mortal form.

I haven’t sent Christmas cards out in quite a few years, so consider this a late holiday greeting with some reminders going forth for 2016:

May you find the time to reach out to those struggling during the holidays (and all through the year)

May you ALWAYS set an extra place setting even if you have to use plastic/paper (nobody gives a shit what their food is served on)

May you place your emphasis on the memories and not the gifts

As one of my daughter’s said to me today, she couldn’t tell me what she got as Christmas presents in past years, but she could tell me about the Christmases we forfeited gifts and I took them away.  One never to be forgotten memory was a trip to the Bob Marley compound in Jamaica. The “9-mile” rickety Rasta painted school bus (red, yellow, green) that vomited all Bob Marley quotes. Drinking rum punches through the rain forest, up a one lane mountain with no guard rails (the reason for rum punch – a valium would’ve been appreciated).  As we entered the gates of the Marley compound, they actually had their own McDonald-like take out window except the burgers & fries were actually ganja blunts the size of a bratwurst for sale by the little man in the window.  Aaah yes, and you could smoke ganja throughout the whole tour.  How delightful for three teenagers.

 Mother of the Year Award – FAIL, but a Christmas memory never to be forgotten.

24 hours have passed since I wrote this blog post without posting it, and I’m just happy I lived through the past 24 hours.  My dear daughter and her boyfriend took me on a 1/2 mile hike up a damn bluff in 90 degree weather to a lighthouse yesterday.  When you don’t perspire like normal people your body goes into heat stroke.  I was only minutes away.  I figured if they were going to off me it would be via paddle boarding.  Launch my ass into the ocean as shark bait or I’d turn into a human french fry trying to paddle back to shore against the current.

I’m still here and so are you if you’re reading this.  Be grateful.  Be kind. Be happy. Life can change in a split second and is only a split second.

Happy Holidays to all.  I know I have my own special version of the Annual Christmas letter drafted somewhere in my computer files, but I came across this little ditty while searching for it.

There was a time I was receiving these “inspirational” emails by the dozens each week, and it’s fair to say I finally lost my shit.  This particular one came late on a Friday afternoon at work.  Not only was my mind checked out of work for the week; I sure as hell didn’t want to have to send this F’ing thing to 10 people within 10 minutes or have 7 years bad luck.

As I began reading it and the pissy-ness of having to forward it was building, my fingers took flight on the keyboard and began vomiting responses for each statement.  I’m sure you’ll figure out mine are in red,  and I did forward it to my 10 people before the 10 minute expiration that would turn my life to shit for 7 years.

Inner Peace: This is so true

If you can start the day without caffeine,

I haven’t started a day without caffeine for over 40 years.  What the hell do you think would happen to my bloodstream?  I’d go into a catatonic state within 24 hours and then who would feed  Jesus?  Huh?  Huh?

If you can always be cheerful, ignoring aches and pains,

Kind of hard when your friends want to do the Brazilian Butt Lift DVD and you have hemorrhoids.  Gotta do some explaining there….

If you can resist complaining and boring people with your troubles,

If FAMILY and friends weren’t such assholes, we wouldn’t have to complain & bore others with our stories now would we?  Not our problem.  You don’t want to listen to my problems, go F yourself. I hate you.

If you can eat the same food every day and be grateful for it,

At this stage in our lives, we’re pretty much sick of every food category (we’re old & heading towards straight tapioca); F’ing sick of cooking everything for the young & old bastards, and we’re so fed up we eat the same shit so…..WHATEVER.

If you can understand when your loved ones are too busy to give you any time,

Yea, but it was okay for all those years when you dropped everything, put a booty call aside, a manicure, a mini trip aside to accommodate the little fuckerzzzz.  Then all of a sudden they get a life and THEY’RE TOO BUSY? F them & the horse they rode in on.

If you can take criticism and blame without resentment,

Oh, screw that.  I’m not going to learn from criticism or blame now.  Resentment keeps the little fuckerzzz from communicating with me again.  Like that’s a bad thing? Set those bridges ablaze!  It’s called harmony in my world.

If you can conquer tension without medical help,

Not when you end up in the E.R. for eating cookies laced with shit and you go into Defib.  F that too.  My goal IS medical help.  Like in a place with rolling hills & streams, tapioca & happy hour.

If you can relax without alcohol,

Again, are you F‘ing KIDDING ME?  Name someone.  Chances are if you can, they’re in a program because they’re stressed out from not drinking!

If you can sleep without the aid of drugs,

YOU CAN’T BE F’ing SERIOUS HERE EITHER!!!!!!  Hello????? Mentalpause.  Some Asshole man must’ve wrote this shit. Meds/alcohol are a winning combination past age of 40 and screw anyone who begs to differ.  Come live at my house first asshole.  You’ll be popping & sucking down booze faster than a sump pump.

Yea, nice rose.  F’ing thorns.  Thorn in my ass all of you.  Have a spiritual F’ing day.

I guess my amp’d up, inappropriate version struck a chord with my people because I received immediate responses.  One of which was, “Well, well, well … guess I won’t be forwarding that to anyone.  Especially not my friend’s wife since she sent me the original version and I had the same “are you f’ing kidding me?” reflexive gag response.  Platitudes like that are reserved for the wealthy, leisured class who drink plenty but don’t need alcohol to relax because they “enjoy” three things: MONEY, STAFF, and a DISTANT FAMILY they don’t give a shit about.”

Don’t get me wrong that I don’t appreciate a good quote from Mother Theresa or a meaningful passage from Maya Angelou or Erma Bombeck since my kitchen cabinets are coated with yellowed, curled corner copies of them.  However, when you’ve reached a point in your life that you can scroll right past them on social media, you have achieved your inner peace and self knowing.  You can agree or disagree, I really don’t give a shit.  I have the inner peace knowing quotes tell all about a person’s life or lack thereof.

This is my friend, MJ’s version of the “Maddie Looney” Christmas letter (see blog post ‘The Anal Braggadocious Christmas Letter’).  Fair to say this one is on the complete other end of the spectrum of Maddie Looney’s.  This would be the 911 Version and NEVER EVER SAY, “WHAT ELSE CAN HAPPEN?!?”

Happy New Year to All – WOW WEE 2014 has been quite a fulfilling year for me and my family.  I started off 2014 with so many wonderful resolutions – and fulfilled NOT AN F’ING ONE of them.  The first words on my Resolution paper was “This is the year of Me….the year of Mom.”  I was going to take time for myself so I could keep myself happy and healthy. That shit didn’t work.  It was year of the Mom alright.

January 2014– my son, Stephen, was invited on a hunting vacation with his girlfriend’s Father in Bainbridge, GA.  On the final day of the trip, Stephen fell head first off of Chewy (Chewy being a horse, and not Chelsea Handler’s midget).  He snapped his left forearm in half like a twig.  One ambulance to Bainbridge Hospital and because one is never enough for our family, his ass was loaded onto ambulance #2 to Tallahassee FL trauma center.  Naturally, when you snap your arm in half you require some nice titanium screws and a plate to put humpty back together again.  Oh, it’s fair to mention that Stephen is “THE” middle child, mostly easygoing since I left his car seat on the roof a few times (or maybe that was #1 child). and I think I recall closing his head in the car window once.   Don’t get me wrong, he pushes my buttons often and I need to take the weapon of ass destruction (the wooden spoon) to set him straight even at 6 feet tall, but I can still take the Mutha down.  Also noteworthy is this wasn’t our first Rodeo with Stephen as he was a high school football player and had many injuries and operations.  He had to return to his senior final semester at Roger Williams University.  My Stevie is an honor student. 🙂  He flew home from the hunting trip on so many pain meds that he could have sprouted wings and actually flown himself.  Two days later back in the homeland he had surgery because Lord knows if he had it down in the South, he’d come out of surgery in a permanent salute stance.  The Southerners aren’t big fans of the Yankees and us Yankees only want our own people touching them.  So…..3 hours of surgery, 2 titanium plates, 17 screws and multiple viewings of his bionic x-rays.  Stephen was awarded the family medical award for the year since he reminded me that he was the sole reason we met our insurance deductible within a month of the new year.  He recovered nicely and is back in action for the remainder of the year. Yea for Stephen!  Go dude!

February – my darling husband, Gary, was having some shoulder pain only to find out he needed rotator cuff surgery.  This is the worst and most painful of surgeries might I add, and he was miserable for days leading up to the surgery….. lucky, lucky me. Guess what happens when you’re down an arm or shoulder and can’t move it,  I get to dress you, wipe your ass, put your socks and shoes on.  This is exactly what I pictured doing in the “year of me.”  Wiping my husband’s ass…..

March – My mother resides in an upscale nursing facility.  One that supposedly has trained employees watching her every move.  Take note: mechanical recliners can be lethal.  One push of the button and my Mother was catapulted like a human sling shot face planted onto the floor.   Soooo….guess where I had to report to as the only daughter.  None other than the crazier ‘n shit Norwalk Hospital ER.  This was visit 12+ with Momma over the last 5 years.  After the baker’s dozen, I just stopped counting that shit.  I am no stranger to the ins and outs of these wonderful establishments.

Honestly, with all the training I’ve received in just my family alone,  I still wonder why I’m not a nurse or work in a hospital.  If nothing else, I should be getting frequent fucking flyer miles or a family discount package, and definitely an assigned parking space.  I am also Momma’s weekly Chinese laundry service.  I pick up and I deliver.  You know how young children rub their blankies or woobies, well elderly people have adult woobies.  It’s called thousands of Kleenex.  Kleenex stuck up sleeves, in bosoms, pockets, in elastic waistbands, and you know what happens when you don’t want to put your hand in any of their clothing for fear of touching some bodily fluid that might make you shart yourself just as they sharted.  Then there’s always the powder-like dead skin that collects in the crevices.  You get 5 lbs of Kleenex stuck to an entire load of laundry and have to spend 30 minutes picking it off.  I have washed and dried more Kleenex than I care to count.  It’s another wonder how my dryer hasn’t caught on fire yet.

April – Spring  has arrived and shockingly all was calm on the home front.  I was thanking the stars and moons above that I could finally start working on ME.

I get a phone call from my daughter Kay who is in Rhode Island working a shift on the Charlestown Ambulance.  My first born, Kay, High Honors graduate of Albertus Magnus with a degree in Art Therapy.  After graduation she decided that she wanted to do something in the medical field so she went on to get her EMT License and CMA License.  One day I looked in her wallet and she has more licenses than the damn DMV and more certificates than handed out on graduation day.  Anyway, she calls to tell me that her throat is purple and there are balls the size of golf balls in her throat and she was running a fever.  She was on her way to the local walk-in clinic to get it checked out.  She drove home after that and I took one look at her and the purple hemorrhoid looking things growing on her epiglottis and knew we had to go.  We went straight to her Doctor who was also baffled and amused of these grapes growing on my daughter’s throat.  Weeks and weeks of multiple medications, and she was finally on the mend.   Our Kay is 25 years old and obviously could have driven herself to this appointment, but the co-dependent and enabling mother I am, couldn’t let her drive herself for fear she’d be pulled over with throat hemorrhoids.

May – With the excitement of #2 child graduating and me realizing I now have two children that have completed college, I was thrilled that the payments were coming to an end.  Now I can spend some time on me, but with the first week of Stephen being home I realized that my washing machine wasn’t going to meet the life span indicated by the manufacturer nor was I.  Having all three children home, two of which who had been out on their own, brought with it such a wonderful rollercoaster of evil emotion.  At the end of May, I got awakened in the middle of the night by Stephen who is shaking uncontrollably and can’t express how he feels.  We wake the EMT sister up to check him out and she finds his BP is elevated and we can’t figure out what going on.  Thus, VISIT #4 to the Norwalk ER.  Blood work and test galore only to find out it was probably something viral so they send us on our way after a 5 hour stay.  At this point I have come to the conclusion that nothing is every urgent in an Emergency Room and your average stay is 4-5 hours.

June – I love June and look forward to that month because I know I will be spending time in RI with my BFF, the gals, the Dolls – one full week of drinking, beaching and laughing.  This year my dear friend, Barb, purchased Earth, Wind & Fire tickets for all of us to enjoy.  I have to say Barb, Beth, Donna and I had the most relaxing time.  During the week, I received one phone call from K saying that she feels like her stomach is going explode.  I instructed here to go to the ER and seek medical attention.  Something she should have thought of on her own since she does work alongside of doctors every f’ing day, but nooooo……she waited until I came home.   I met her one day in the Norwalk ER (my home away from home). In case you lost track that’s VISIT #5.   Since she was employee, she got to pass and go directly to an ER room; one of the perks of working in the hospital.  My first day back to work, walk in the door and turned around lasso my horse and head to meet her in the ER.

July – My brother and his family where coming to town from AZ and I thought it would be nice since Steve had just graduated why not have a party.  It was on a Thursday night even though I had worked a full day I had a party for 40+ people so I could accommodate his weekend fishing schedule.  You might ask yourself at this point why accommodate your children, have they ever accommodated us?  That’s just what we do.  All during  the party planning  and the setup, Kay (the CNA @Norwalk Hospital) had been battling a stomach issue for well over a month was scheduled to have a medical procedure because of it.  The party was a hit and we move onto the next adventure while Peter is here.  We clean up and leave for RI the next day.  It’s like cramming 5 pounds of shit in a two-pound bag.  We only have 2 bedrooms and 1 bathroom in our RI home.  4 Adults and 3 kids, but we always make it work.  My brain storming idea was why not have my other two brothers and their family up to RI Sunday for the day and spend a nice day at the beach and end with a family cookout. One drunk boyfriend, one yard anchor, two dirt bikes, three hospitals.  Yes, K decided to bring the boy she was dating at the time (also and employee of ours….I reserve comment).   Anyway they show up for the day with his mother and boyfriend in tow.  Our nice little barbecue and cocktails for 19 on the deck turned into yet another Rodeo.  The dirt bike collision – Nine hours spent in hospitals, yes hospitals because as you now know one is never enough.  One broken nose, one broken arm, and one broken ego.  Mother does know best, and you should always listen to your mother about dating someone who works for us.

August – Here I thought I was going to have a nice peaceful August when I had a full blown anxiety attack on the beach in RI – at that point I had text my girls to which they all replied DRINK VODKA.  I did, and it worked.  Score one for MJ.  Yea, it’s ME time.  NOT.

September – Just when I thought it was over, I contract some weird ass intestinal infection, which caused me to have all sorts of things coming out of my body.  I, me, for the FIRST time in my life, ended up in the ER totally dehydrated and weird shit happening.  My 3 hour waiting room time just added to my anxiety. The med prescribed caused me to have head spins, vertigo, dry mouth, loss of appetite.  This started my quest to find out what is wrong with me.  My dear friend told me that it was the 8 month of bullshit coming out of my mouth and my ass.  I think she’s right BUT continue to try and find out what in the Hell is happening to me.  I thought I was a special person. After all, I made it 40 years without so much as a bee sting, and never a hospital visit outside of spitting out kids.  SPECIAL my ass – 1 more ER visit, 3 Dr. Appointments.  Could anything else happen? Of course it could.  It’s an Italian thing to NEVER, EVER say, “What else could happen?”  Idiot.  It was a ME day, and I was heading to the last beach day with the biddies.  Instead, #2 child, Steve, cut off the tip of his finger and back to the ER we go.  Since I’m a kind person and likes to spread the wealth, we go to the Tully Immediate Care instead of Norwalk or Stamford ER.  He got his fingertip glued back on.  I went home and wanted to drink, but sadly I was still taking meds for my issues and any drop of alcohol would make me start spewing shit up.  So, instead I sat home in my favorite chair and cried.

October – I was just starting to feel a little bit better.  I had gone months not telling anyone exactly how I felt which was like shit.  On October 31, I drive to work like any other day and when I get out of the car I just simply can’t stand up.  My back went out.  I spend two weeks walking around like an osteoporosis 90 year old popping Advil like jelly beans.  At this point, I started opening my mouth to any pill anyone would give me.  Two more doctor visits and heading for junkie-ville.

November –  By Thanksgiving I’m still nursing my back and decide I just can’t stand my dizzy head any longer only to find out the double doses of Advil I was taking for my back had caused my head to start spinning and the tinnitus ringing in my ears is in full force driving me crazy.  The nice doctor gave me a nice shot to put my spine to sleep so I could prepare, shop, cook, serve, clean up to make sure my family had a Happy Thanksgiving and a Very Merry Christmas.  I hope they did because if not,  I don’t really give a shit.

My New Year’s resolution 2015 – I’m not saying one fucking thing.  Well, it turned out that MJ didn’t have to say anything. 

 On January 1, 2015, at 8:30 am, I took a picture of the original “Maddie Looney” Christmas letter to make MJ jealous that we were reading it while drinking our Girl Scout coffees, and you know where MJ was?  YUP, the Norwalk Hospital ER.  Awakened by her husband New Year’s morning with shortness of breath and symptoms of a heart attack.  Gary was fine, and they met their medical deductible the very first day of the new year!

 MJ’s Year in #’s

Visits to the ER – 9

Kids married – zero

Kids living at home – 3

Kids I want out of the house – 2

Kids in College – zero

Kids Graduated College – 2

Kids in High School – 1

Kids working – 1

Kids looking not so hard for a job – 2

Times wiped up dog pee – 10

Teenage drivers – 1

Shoulder surgeries – 1

Arm Surgeries – 1

Hours giving advice – countless

Askholes in my life – countless

Hours spent sending meaningful quotes – countless

Phone calls from my mother -1095

Emergency calls from Nursing home – 10

Cars keyed by psycho neighbor – 1

# of times bitchy neighbor called cops for running car engine – 3

# of times bitchy neighbor called cops for shoveling snow – 3

# of times pot smoke waifed from neighbor’s house – countless

Times checked on Uncle Joey because shade wasn’t up – 10

Times checked on Uncle Joey because no one else does – 52+

Orthodontic visits – 6

Outboard motors winterized – 450

Miles driven to work – hundreds

# of text messages – countless

Trips to Pilates class – Zero

Trips to airports – not enough

Broken noses – 1

Broken bones – 2

Number of Gluten Free pills taken – countless

Number of laundry loads – 780

Number of concerts attended – 10

Number of trips to RI with the gals – 2

Hours spent asking if homework is done – countless

Hours spent asking not to text at the dinner table – countless

PT appointments – countless

Dr. Copays – Countless

Meal prepared – 1000 plus

Pizza ordered – at least 105

First wok ordered – 25

Happy Hours hosted at my house – countless

Number of Liquor bottles recycled – countless

Number of Xanax consumed – countless

Number of Reiki/Massage healings – countless

Annual grocery expenses – $$$$$ countless

Bottles of Wine and Vodka consumed – COUNTLESS

Stock tips had I only known

Kleenex, band aid brand, Emergency Equipment, Iphone, Tide, Palmers, Stop & Shop, Shop Rite, All Distilleries

Yes, there are still families that publish the anal …. sorry  I meant annual family Christmas letter that makes you want to hurl.  Add to that, there’s the perfect family photo collages on both the front AND back side of the card.  Then there’s the card insert – a double-sided, size 8 font-need-CVS-magnifying glass-letter of each family member’s accomplishments for the year.  I have had the ultimate enjoyment to read this letter for the past 3+ years even though I have never met a single one of these people. However, I do feel as though I am now close enough to each of them to hold their hand while they’re having a colonoscopy since we’re butt buddies – they have set my ass ablaze with the amount of smoke they’ve blown up it.  The Italian term for this Type “A” personality is braggadocious aka Bragger.

Since this letter originates from another part of the U.S. and is sent here to the Nor’east swirling vortex of insanity each year, I am one of dozens who await the infamous Maddie Looney Xmas letter.  Last year I stooped to begging level to break into my friend’s home while they were away in order to get my hands on the letter, but nooooo.  Instead I was summoned over to my friend’s home at 8:30 a.m. on New Year’s morning after they had just landed 2 hours prior and me with minimal sleep as well.  Decked out in my P.J.’s, bed head, fleece slippers, I hauled ass over with the ingredients for Girl Scout coffees (recipe below) to partake in the traditional reading of “The Maddie Looney Letter.”

While we impatiently await this year’s accomplishments from the Looney’s, I hope you enjoy 2014’s letter as much as we all did.  Names & locations have been changed to protect their purity and flawless lives.  Asides from that, it’s completely authentic.  Remarks are in color – a compilation from many contributors of the sarcastic Nor’east, but many are mine.

Dear Friends & Family,

We hope that 2014 has been as generous to you as it has been to Clan Looney.  Keeping track of comings and goings in our household can sometimes be a challenge, but in the end we are glad to have been blessed with another happy, healthy, and wonderful year together.  The dynamics of the Looney household have also changed this year.  With Kevin going off to college this past Fall, Patrick is now the only male in the house!  Gone are the days of Sports Center, College Game Day and discussions about NFL Fantasy Football.  Instead T.V. shows like Dance Moms, One Tree Hill and Gossip Girl reign supreme.  When the lights go out, I bet Penisland.com and PornPerv.com reign supreme on the clan’s iPads under the down comforters.

Patrick and Maddie celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary this past November!  To celebrate, the entire crew spent the weekend after Thanksgiving at a resort.  We had the chance to partake in skeet shooting and paint ball as a family.  The girls got their nails done in the spa and the boys watched hours of football together.  It was a perfect anniversary celebration.  Maddie surprised everyone with her skill and ferocity with a shotgun!   She was a real natural.  (Excellent.  Let’s get you enlisted to take out ISIS with your paint ball ferocity) Patrick is finishing his second year as Interim/Acting Chair of Surgery at University Hospital.  The process is underway to remove the interim title – stay tuned for the formal announcement. We await that announcement with about as much excitement as an STD test! He also has taken to wearing bow ties and cowboy boots. If I had to guess, Paddy-me-boy is playing giddy up in a supply closet with a breastis enhanced nurse.  Sounds like a mid-life crisis if ever there was one. Or Paddy gots himself a butt buddy.  Maddie is amazing as always. Are you SHITTING ME? Did she seriously just gush about herself in the first person? As if she didn’t have enough already on her plate, Maddie agreed to be President of the Pinehurst Swim and Dive Booster Club.  Madame President (as Patrick and the kids like to call her) still keeps it all straight!  She’s the best!!!!!!!! OKAY, I WANT WHATEVER MEDS THIS BROAD IS ON!  She must have some rockin’ psychiatrist that ends her daily sessions with a tantric massage.

Now comes the blow-by-blow for all their perfect children.  I’m venturing to guess that the Irish rhythm method failed miserably for the Looney clan.

Birgitta, 23, a graduate student at Bucknell University-Birgitta has one more semester to go before she receives a master’s degree in Kinesiology (look it up, we had to) and is looking forward to a career as a swim coach when she finishes school.  Maddie was present at Brigitta’s last meet in March and watch with tears in her eyes as Brigitta won the final race of her career.  Brigitta is a volunteer graduate coach with the Bucky’s Women’s swim team.  She was named to the SEC Academic Honor Roll for the second straight year and received the prestigious Buck Spirit Award from the Bucknell Association of former students.(of course she did)  This past summer Brigitta visited Europe and made a stop in London.  Finally, her boyfriend (2 years) keeps her on her toes with his boundless energy. Oh, I bet he does especially when she’s on her tippy toes in the corner of a bathroom stall goin’ boink-a-boink.  She’s our inspiration 🙂 I’m sure she is, Maddie, I’m sure she is….all gumby-like. 

Riley, 22, a graduate student (4th year or red shirt senior at UVA)-Riley graduated from UVA this past spring with a Bachelor’s degree in Risk Management and Insurance.  He is currently enrolled in the School of Kinesiology (copy cat) obtaining a master’s degree in Sports Management.  He’s looking hard for an internship spot this summer!  Riley also made the SEC Academic Honor Roll, UVA Athletic Director’s Honor Roll and was name Co-President of the UVA Student-Athletic Advisory Committee this past August! (of course he is)

Callan, 20, a junior at University of Virginia made it back into the pool this past year after taking almost a year off to recover from back surgery.  His recovery has been nothing short of amazing (of course) as he qualified for the 2016 US Olympic Trials in the 400-meter IM this past summer. (of course he did)  He also continues to excel in the classroom. (of course he did) He was a recipient of the Rumsey Scholarship for Academic and Athletic Excellence (way to go dude!) and hopes to enroll in medical school after he graduates from UVA. (of course he does)

Kevin, almost 19, a freshman at Duke University-Kevin graduated from Pinehurst High School in May as an Honors Graduate. (of course he did) He enrolled at University this past Fall.  It doesn’t stop there though!  He trained incredibly hard over the summer and made the Duke Football Team as a walk-on.  Kevin was voted Offensive Scout Team Player of the Week for the Tulane game. (aka TWERKING Locker Room Bitch) He also has had a tremendous start academically at Duke finishing with a 3.5 GPA for his first semester.(of course he did)  We couldn’t be more proud of him! (of course you are)

Eilish, 16, a sophomore at Pinehurst HS-Eilish  continues to excel in and out of the swimming pool (of course).   This past Spring Eilish was the County and Pinehurst H.S. State Champion in the 200-yard IM.  Not bad for a freshman!  As a sophomore, Eilish is stepping up as a role model and leader for Pinehurst Swim & Dive. (of course she did)   Out of the pool Eilish is thriving in school.  (of course she is) She is an incredibly talented artist with several of her works receiving attention at state and national art fairs this year. (of course she did) Also be on the look out….Lishy gets her license in 2015! Oh, Maddie….no Year/Make/Model/VIN # for the Jeep Cherokee awaiting this little brilliant closet bulimic?

Brenna, 14 freshman at Pinehurst HS-Brenna a freshman?!?!?! Man where does the time fly? She loves being on the Pinehurst Swim Team with her big sister.  It makes Mom and Dad proud to see the two girls cheering for all their teammates at the Pinehurst Swim Meets.  We know we’ve done something right! You’d had better got the 6th F’ing pancake right on that griddle!  Brenna also has had the opportunity to begin participating in theater.  She is incredibly talented and just seems to have “IT” when the focus is on!   (oooh, is there a possibility of a little focus/ADD issue?  Fess up Maddie – what dose of Adderall is Brenny on?) Brenna is also a talented artist and exceptional student in her own right! In other words, she doesn’t quite stack up against her siblings too guud.  I see a therapist sofa in the future.

Maeve, 11, a 6th grader in Middle School-Not to be out done by her sisters, Maeve continues to thrive in the pool.  (of course she does) She also is organized and diligent, and seems to have it all together in school as well.(of course she does)  Sometimes it’s hard to believe that Maeve is only 11!  She is in orchestra this year; she plays violin and loves it!  (Definition:  good with her fingers) When not swimming Maeve also enjoys hanging out with the dog, her friends, playing apps (like you-tubing “Fellatio”) on the iphone (sexting) and iPad, Disney Channel, cartwheels (practicing gumby moves like her big sister), computer (watching porn videos) & family, and is a cutter .

Sending love to you this holiday season.  May you be blessed with good health, happiness & prosperity in 2014.  Pray for peace!  Merry Christmas & Happy New Year Y’all!

Y’all, since that wasn’t painful enough, we have in font #6 the Looney family’s year summed up in numbers:

The YEAR IN #’S

Kids married – ZERO

Kids employed – ZERO

Kids in College/Grad School – 4

Kids in SEC Schools – 4

Kids at Notre Dame – 0 (How the deck does that happen?  Bank of Dad breathes a sigh of relief, however!)

Division I College Athletes in 2014 – 4

Kids in High School – 2

Kids in Middle School – 1

Kids in Elementary School – 0 (We have graduated!)

Teenage drivers – 2

Times Walked the Dog – 750

Amount of Puppy Love – Priceless!

New car Tires – 12 (Maddie got a Christmas card from Town Fair Tires!  They Love her!)

Orchestra concerts – 4

Back surgeries – 0 (Thank Goodness)

Trips to the dentist – 35

Orthodontist Visits – 27

Contact Lenses – 375

Glasses – 6

Science Fair Winners – 1

Kids with braces – 2 (Brenny-Bren got her braces off!)

Kids with Braces for the 2nd time – 1 (wear your retainer this time Lishy!)

Trips to pilates – 145

Total Number of Broken Cell Phones – 3

Total Number of Lost/Stolen Cell Phones – 1

Total Number of Working Cell Phones – 9

# of Tutoring Hours – 35

Miles Driven to Work – Thousands

Surgeries Performed – Hundreds

Patients seen – Hundreds

Trips to Swim (swim practice) – countless

Number of practice yards/meters we swam – Countless (Hundreds of Thousands)

Number of Missed Swim Practices – 10

Trips to Airport – 30+

Collegiate Swim Meets – 12

High School Swim Meets – 12

High School Swim Meets – 13

Text messages, E-mails, FACEBOOK entries – countless

Tweets – Hundreds

State/County Swimming Champions – 1

SEC Football games attended – 7

Notre Dame Football Games Attended – 1 (what?)

Hours of Homework – Thousands

Laundry Loads – Countless

Dishwasher cycles – 1000+

Water bottles recycled – Thousands

Movies attended at theaters – More than 25

Episodes of SNL & Glee – 45

Out of town swim meets – over a dozen

Cell phone chargers – greater than $2,000

Miles Walked/Jogged/Run – Thousands

Meals – Thousands

Chocolate Chip Cookies Eaten – 1,248

Chick-fil-A Biscuits eaten – 185

Panda Express Meals – Hundreds

Total Annual Swim Practices Attended – Thousands

Total Annual Grocery Expense – $$$$$COUNTLESS$$$$$

P.S. Stock Tips:  BUY:  TYR, SPEEDO, Panda Express, Chick-fil-A, Pubics, Kroger, Best Buy, Apple, Verizon, Chipotle, Liberty Mutal (soon to have 5 kids driving).  We keep them all in business!  STRONG SELL:  P&G (Tide)

Where, I ask, is the number of witch hazel cooling wipes to put out the fires for blowing all that smoke out her ass???  Now y’all stay tuned for my friend’s Xmas letter Nor’easter Swirling Vortex of Insanity style. It is authentic as well and in no way resembles this in any way, shape or form.  Trust me….and then I shall share my own “censored” Xmas Letter.

Girl Scout Coffee –

Needed:  Big mug, strong coffee, whipped cream, creme de menthe liqueor, creme de cacao. The Italian way mixture – a little of this, a little of that & top it with whipped cream.

Since we are in throes of the Giving Thanks season, I wanted to make all the singles aware that we also have our own special day of recognition coming up.  After all, you know our crackhead ADHD retail society has the Valentine displays already erected in the stockroom to replace Christmas on December 26th so …….

SAVE THE DATE:  February 11th, 2016

Who knew that February 11th is Satisfied Singles Day; a mere 3 days prior to Valentine’s Day?  Nowadays there is something for everyone “on the spectrum,” and I shall take full advantage of celebrating come this February.  Perhaps a trip to a tropical island would be a delightful way to acknowledge. Please, please, I certainly do not wish to imply that my opinions or feelings apply to all unions of marriage – only 50% of them.  For me personally as part of this statistic,  “Marriage is  like paying an endless visit in your worst clothes.”

With everyone at a seemingly down-the-shitter-vibrational-low due to all the terrorism and wars hovering like a dark cloud over the globe, I’d like to share with my readers the Top 10 of what I miss about married life.  All sarcastic naturally.  For a laugh.  The idea popped into my head because of a text message from my ex-husband and a red pen a friend of mine would take along clothes shopping.

A little background:  My daughter moved to an island.  Since the dealership didn’t want the leased car back with 8 months left on the lease, we dropped said car to her Dad’s (my ex-husband) to enjoy for the remainder of the lease, not quite agreed upon by all parties when we made that drop off.  My daughter was kind enough to have it washed and I was kind enough to pay his first month’s lease payment.  Since I hadn’t heard from 1x since we gifted him the car along with the payments,  I considered no news good news until I got a text two weeks later from him telling me my daughter’s car registration had expired 4 months prior, did she know she was driving with an expired registration, and did I remember getting it in the mail.  PIFF.  I was on a ferry-boat, starting my 10 days of Birthday celebration with my friend of 46 years right along with a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc so I recall nothing. So, it went something like this:

Me:  Text her and ask her.  The same thing happened to me.

1x:  I did.  She didn’t know anything about it.  Lucky she didn’t get pulled over.

Me:  We are one lucky bunch.  I got pulled over twice within 14 hours for a non-registered car. (Then I did thank him for taking over the car lease.  The least I could do).

1x: I like it.  Never really had a new car.  Somebody always got it before me.  I got the hand me downs. LOL. (Helloooooo!  That somebody had OUR 3 kids to haul around.  Working brakes and a functional transmission were always a consideration).

Me: Oh, you gotta let go of that.  Clearly you’re still under a woman’s spell because you’re still driving that 17-year-old piece of shit.  If you stayed single like I did, you’d have a new car and loads of fun.”  LOL (the 17 year-old car being one of my “new” cars)

1x:  100 percent correct.  I work too much.  Cars 4 kids soon.

The red pen – My friend/co-worker, used to carry a red pen in her purse so when she went shopping she could “mark down” her purchased items to show her husband the “On Sale” items she landed….a brilliant idea I must say.

So, here’s my Top 10 of what I miss about being married or why I am grateful that I am no longer married:

1. I miss the shock factor on my ex’s face of purchasing a brand new car and telling him when he got home from work he had to drop me off to pick it up.
2. I am grateful for no longer getting an electric mixer, frying pan, a bird feeder or a hot pink Hanes Her Way sweat suit as a Christmas or Birthday gift or perhaps a gift card purchased in the check out line at Stop & Shop.
3. I am grateful for no longer having to buy men’s boxer briefs.
4. I am grateful for no longer having to listen to the droning on about retirement plans starting at age of 40. (Shit.  Why not start planning your funeral at this point as well)
5. I am grateful for no longer having to share closet or bed space.
6. I miss going clothes and shoe shopping and having to cut off tags and smuggle it all in little by little from the car.
7. I miss having to sympathize with my Ex who would moan and carry on about not feeling well, allergies, headaches, sports injuries, etc., or checking his ass for hemorrhoids. The sole reason men were anatomically incapable of giving birth, and I wouldn’t be writing this because the human race would be extinct by now.
8. I miss watching the psycho pack the car for the family camping trips and making the kids cry.
9. I am grateful for no longer having to hang his postal truck ornaments on the Christmas tree. (However, I do miss the shit boats of cash tips & liquor during the holidays)
10. Last but not least, I miss the classic line,  “Why didn’t you tell me you needed help?”  Well, gee hunny, did you not see that floor mop wedged in between my ass cheeks simultaneously mopping the floor while I was making dinner, and holding a baby? Or was that not a big enough clue?  Oh, you’re tired from work?

Of course I could’ve made this into a 4,000 word essay with a much more intimately detailed list, but that’s all in “the book(s)”.  Fact is, a marriage breaks down because of this short list:

• Married for all the wrong reasons
• Thought your spouse could change
• You grew apart
• Mental health/substance abuse of a spouse
• Mental/physical abuse
• Infidelity

If I was to ever give advice, I would say:

• Fall in love with someone who will make you their world, but not their entire world.  It’s healthy for women and men to have a circle of friends…it just is….no matter how far your childhood or soul friend moves, keep in touch because you will reconnect someday due to time and circumstance.
• Fall in love with someone who is never in competition with you or you competing with them.  Never make it a competition who does more, works more, gets more free time.  That game never has a winner.
• Fall in love with someone willing.  Someone who loves themselves first because if they don’t, they certainly won’t know how to love you.
• Fall in love with someone who accepts your quirks and you theirs.  Don’t bother trying to change them because you won’t succeed.
• Fall in love with someone who is crazy for children whether or not you ever have them.  Children are the windows to the soul.
• Fall in love with someone who loves animals, and would never do them harm.  Someone that an animal will gravitate to because animals are more often a better judge of a person’s character than humans.
• Love the people in your life that love you back.  You will never be lonely if you love and are loved back.  It doesn’t take just one person to fulfill your life.

This is to honor those who are sandwiched between children and aging parents.   My Mother passed away 17 years ago and I made a huge mistake of doing everything for my Father to try to ease the burden of his loss.

Do it once, you do it forever

It was too tall of an order, and no matter how many f’ing homemade apple pies I baked or pot roast dinners I cooked, it wasn’t bringing back his wife.  Starting the day after she died, he began coming to my house for breakfast, lunch, and dinner until I slowly weaned him off the breakfast and lunch meal plan.  I cleaned his house for years, and picked up his laundry and garbage weekly.  He’s had dinner with us just about every night since then unless by some miracle or blessing he agrees to go out to dinner or to the local Italian-American club for “Hog’s Night,” but usually bitches that the pork chops or the roast beef was like shoe leather and you could re-sole your shoes with it.

Then he had a nice little in-law apartment built for himself above my garage after I was divorced.  So, essentially I just inherited another man to cook, clean, and take care of.  Personally, I love when he asks with an attitude, “You’re going out again tonight?” followed by, “What’s for dinner?”  I’m not even going to tell you what my response is under my breath, but it’s a universal word that fits into any sentence structure.

He’s pushing 88 years old and still drives, works, and we call him Jesus because he’s been flat lined twice, saw the light that dimmed, and resurrected.  Then there’s the at least one or two annual brushes with death due to his stubbornness of not wanting to go to the doctor because “they only find things wrong with you.”  He’s usually 3/4 dead at this juncture from some walking pneumonia or bronchial thing yet he pulls out of it after only a day of antibiotics.  It’s nothing short of a miracle and he’s obviously not completed his task on earth or my Mother doesn’t want him yet because she’s having way too much fun with all her biddies as I’ve been told on numerous occasions.

I could go on for days relaying his antics, but I’m saving that for another publication.  It’s definitely not easy when a parent has become a ZERO filter curmudgeon, but we all need to remember who and what they were before they had to start the role reversal of having to lean on us.  When you’ve reached that age and are one of the last ones standing, most of your life’s memories are buried along with your family and friends in a cemetery.  I have to remind myself of that often when Jesus isn’t acting exactly ethereal. A couple of examples for shits & giggles…or an 8 on the Richter scale of inappropriate comments:  He asked my daughter if she was a lesbian because she had never brought a boyfriend home.  Later that same day, he told my niece, the bride-to-be, only weeks away from her wedding, she looked like she put on some weight.  I believe her wedding gown was a Size 2, a size I maybe would’ve squeezed into in 1st grade.  I would also get the ass ripping for his colorful remarks.  My Sister-in-Law called me to ask why he’d say such a thing to the bride-to-be, but as the one upper I am, she shut right up when I told her what he said to my Daughter.  I am not my Father’s keeper, but frankly, sometimes the shit he comes out with is true and it is funny.

All About Grandpa Chol:

He wakes us somewhere between 5:30 or 6:00 have a warm enema ready, he will then go to the bathroom so keep the lights off and be quiet.  Keep interaction minimal or he will not be able to perform.  Trust me he needs to.  There is prune juice in the freezer so I will keep 1 cup frozen please take it out Friday night and it will be defrosted by morning.  If he doesn’t finish the entire glass you can save it for the next morning, cover it with Press and Seal and put in the fridge, but if he doesn’t finish it just pour it out.

Around 7 or 8 he get’s changed and is in his outfit for the day.  He pretty much eats every time I put food out give or take.  That’s pretty much 3 times a day.  Space it out so his last meal is around 6 PM so if he eats at 7 his next would be at 12 and then maybe 6/6:10 kind of depends on how your day works out.

He likes a bowl of ice cream about an hour before he goes to sleep, earlier if he’s seems tired and fussy.  He may resist or cry but usually passes out in 10 mins.  If he wakes up just try popping a few benedryl in his mouth or if he won’t settle down you can put him on his stomach and let him cry it out.  You may want to make sure there is no residual enema in him or he may poop or be stinky.

As a reminder his coffee is taken with milk and sugar.  He will then need a cup of coffee every 3-4 hours.  You can leave an extra cup in case, but when he drinks more than he usually should he gets jittery so don’t give it to him unless he really needs it because it may set off his defibrillator.  There are extra shirts are on the dryer in case he  drools or spits up.

After his last feeding he goes up and puts his PJ’s on please make sure you put his afghan around him, now it’s quiet time – He’s not funny anymore when he goes to bed, unfortunately since his bed time is earlier.  Turn the lights out and put him down, sometimes it takes him longer to fall asleep, he should sleep through the night, but if you hear him wake up it’s probably because he has to pee.  Don’t talk to him even if he gives you a cute smile, he always goes back to sleep.

Will show you how to start Jenny’s car and how to adjust the seat.  He doesn’t need to be strapped in.  The seat belt cuts off the power pack supply to his defibrillator.

This is his time to make the rounds and visits of any surviving friends.  I will leave you a short list of names of his friends if he’s gone too long, but check the cemetery first since most reside there.

This should be it.  Remember he loves attention, Frank Sinatra, and foot rubs so I know you two will have a ball.  He loves you.

Thank you X O X O Auntie B

If you think it’s not easy for you dealing with an elderly parent, times that by 100 to be that parent having lost your independence, sense of self, sense of worth, and having to depend on your children or worse – our healthcare system.  My friends and I volley elder issues back and forth regularly, and it’s very degrading what caregivers do or don’t do even in exclusive nursing homes.  The smallest requests are even ignored.  I would hate like hell to see what level of care the seniors in low income/medicare nursing homes receive.  Then there’s the what goes on behind your back with live-in health aides.  Unfortunately, there’s always a bad apple somewhere in the bunch.  The rotten to the core apple I’m referring to was responsible for an elder’s fractured spine due to a fall among numerous other incidents that she covered up.  I do believe if I was ever to face her again, I would  need to bitch slap her.  I also hope she receives the exact same level of care when she needs it as she provided to my friend.

Attached is a link to book that is a must read for anyone dealing with aging parents.  It’s not an easy read, but an important and insightful look at what it’s like for seniors as the quality of their life diminishes. It also touches upon quality over quantity – when to say when.

http://atulgawande.com/book/being-mortal/

These are actual instructions for babysitting an infant.  My niece sent this to me as a joke because she was feeling pretty good about herself after sending me a slightly shorter version (2 whole sentences) for when I had her infant for a weekend turned almost a week during Storm Sandy.  So, let’s just say things did not go as planned as per my instruction sheet during a super storm with an infant, no power, depleted breast milk, and canceled flights for the boobs supplying that milk.

I’m still trying to rack my brain as to whether or not I knew this much about any 3 of my children as infants combined, let alone with the ones I had in my daycare.  If I was to guess, Blaine Campbell Vanderbilt is what I refer to as the “first pancake” or the first born child.  Like a first pancake, the first born is slightly misshapen, doesn’t come out quite right like the others on the griddle because we place too much emphasis on trying to get it perfect from the start.  By the third and fourth, we’ve got a good batter pouring momentum going, thus the better shaped pancakes.

My personal comments are in red because I always have something to say.  Must’ve been from sniffing all that Liquid Gold furniture polish.

Blaine Campbell Vanderbilt

*Cheat Sheet*

(The name was googled from Top Ivy League names to protect my niece from getting slapped by the Mother of this baby)

Pediatrician: 867-5309
*If she gets a fever (over 100.4) give her 2.5mL of Infant’s Tylenol every 4-6 hours. Call me if this happens. She just got a shot in each upper thigh, so there may be red marks tomorrow and soreness.

Schedule {varies based on her morning wake time and lengths of naps}
*Blaine takes 3 naps a day and goes to bed between 6-7PM based on length of naps
*Wake Times: usually between 2-2.5 hours. Do not put down for first nap earlier than 8:15 AM. Ex. Wakes for day at 6 AM, then she usually will be super tired fast, however we have to keep her up until at least 8:15 AM. If she wakes up for day at 7AM, Nap 1 is at 9 AM (this is ideal schedule, however has yet to happen…) Nap 2 is based off of when she wakes up from Nap 1. So if she wakes from Nap 1 at 10:30 AM, Nap 2 is around 12:30-1:00 PM. Nap 1/2 are anywhere between 30 min – 2 hour (so unpredictable!!). She needs to be in crib for at least an hour (use judgment, if she is hysterical after 40 min, just get her out). Sometimes she will wake after 45 minutes, squirm for 1-2 min, and then puts herself back to sleep for ANOTHER HOUR! Usually there are no tears when this happens, so again, use your judgment.  Forget the kid crying, I’d be crying at this point.
I sometimes struggle getting her to take Nap 3. This nap can be done in the stroller or car, however Nap 1/Nap 2 must be in the crib. Nap 3 is usually a short “cat nap” lasting between 20-45 min. If she misses this nap, her bedtime will likely come early.   HOLY SHITOID!  I’m exhausted already.  I need a shot and a beer!

**She usually has a poopy diaper before Nap 1 so be sure to change it before Nap 1. (oddly always has a blowout on her Jump-aroo!) Fun! Can’t wait to clean up that blow out. I’m thinking if this baby shaker gets the bowels moving, maybe I should patent an adult Jump-aroo for constipation issues and line it with disposable Depends.

Putting her to sleep for naps/bed: I usually nurse her for 4-5 minutes (sometimes less) just to get her a little sleepy (while she is grasping her lovey & dual sound machines going).  Dual sound machines?  WTF? My sound machines were a vacuum, washer, dryer, dishwasher, and house of screaming kids.  I have small bags of milk for this occasion, so you can have a bottle ready to ‘nurse her to sleepy world’. Then I cradle her, rock her in my arms, and put her in the crib drowsy, but she usually does wake up slightly when she hits the crib, but will get cozy and fall asleep. She may not want/need the bottle for this occasion. See how it goes… Oh, honey, trust me I will….

Bottles: Her final bottle of choice is the MAM bottle with nipple level 2. I have a total of 4 bottles ready for you (2 smaller purple ones, and 2 bigger yellow).  This baby is like a science project!
*Please prepare her first bottle with all BM (Frozen Breastmilk in bottom tray in freezer and labeled w/ date and # of ounces.) I don’t care about date as much; just go off of what ounce is appropriate for feeding. You may have to combine bags at times
BMilk in Freezer/Fridge: TOTAL ‘liquid gold’: 67 OUNCES  ‘Liquid Gold’ isn’t the furniture polish with toxic fumes any longer?   Now it’s hours of pumped breast milk.  Just reading 2 paragraphs of this baby’s schedule, I ask, “When the hell did you have time to pump 67 ounces of ‘liquid gold?!?'” Did you start the day she was born? 
*You will need to de-thaw the milk one day ahead. So I am de-thawing your milk for Friday 10AM (estimated first feed without mom) feed on Thursday at 10AM (allowing for 12 hours give or take of de thaw time). I am de-thawing a total of 24 oz for Friday. You will need to de thaw this amount {or more} for your Saturday/Sunday feeds. Always smell the milk to make sure it has not gone bad (will smell sour I presume?) You mean to say you are leaving a question mark on this item without having the definitive answer?  There HAS to be an App for that.
****MUST USE BMilk within 24 hours after it has de-thawed in the fridge!!!!  Aaah, just put it on the windowsill.  I used to heat up my kid’s hotdogs on the car dashboard at the beach.  You mean my “dashboard” dogs weren’t appropriate?

Preparing a bottle of Breastmilk ONLY:
*Please have her first bottle be all BM. (First bottle of shit?  YUK.  In my day, BM was the endearing term used with the children asking if they needed to shit.) If for some reason she doesn’t take it, put it aside, and we may have to do ½ BM ½ formula (see below for instructions) to ease her back into the bottle. I would prefer her to mostly take Breastmilk since we have so much to offer (and formula causes some diaper blow outs), however use the formula at your discretion if you notice that you are having a hard time giving her only BM. Please note there are different rules for leaving bottle out in room temperature when there is formula in it.  Make sure you google those rules!  How the hell did we keep our kids alive is what I want to know. 
Make sure milk is completely de thawed, and then I like to use the hot water in the deer park to warm the BM in the plastic bag. Then I pour the milk into a bottle from the plastic bag. Test the temperature on your finger to make sure it’s not too warm/cold.
*IF ALL BM, you can leave at room temperature for 4-6 hours. You are not supposed to put back in fridge once it is warm, use discretion.

Preparing a bottle of Breastmilk + Formula “1/2 + 1/2”:
When preparing the ½ BM+ ½ Formula, PLEASE MAKE SURE you prepare formula before adding the BM (so you can get an accurate measurement of water). If you want to prepare a 6 ounce bottle for Blaine, I would add 3 oz of water to bottle w/ 1.5 scoops of formula. Place finger (wash hands) on top of nipple, or put lid on, and shake shake shake it so all clumps are gone. Now, add the 3 oz of warm BM to this bottleneck and GENTLY shake that in (BM technically not supposed to be shaken). This doesn’t necessarily have to be 3 oz/3 oz. If convenient (for frozen BM inventory purposes) to use a 4 oz bag of BM, then that is great!  I spy with my little eye a family therapist in the near future….

Cleaning the bottles:
Please rinse with the BabyOrganics dish soap and scrub any residue. Then please use the Medela microwave bag to sterilize. Disemble all parts to the bottle, and put around 3 oz of water in bag, and put in microwave for 1.5 minutes. Then dry on the drying rack.  I can’t even….where’s the Xanax?

RULE OF THUMB FOR unfinished Milk from bottles:
*Room temperature for Breastmilk ONLY: 4-6 hours (do not put back in fridge and re heat)
*Thawed milk in Fridge: use within 24 hours
*DISCARD all formula bottles within an hour
http://www.kellymom.com is what I always refer to for any questions
{Sample Schedule:}:  Look!  Oh, Thank God there is a website for contributing to your OCD.  A Kelly Blue Book for infants.
**I am suggesting two 6 oz (morning/night) and three 4 oz bottles of all BM. Gauge this from how hungry she seems/how fast she takes the morning bottle. Always give her more if she is hungry. Saturday is the only day where I will not get at least 1 nurse session in, so see below.

Saturday:  Whaaaaat?  This schedule is only for a day?!?! It would take a week just to comprehend it! Just take the kid with you…..PLEASE.

Wake: 6-6:30 AM (prepare a 6 oz bottle of BM while she squirms) Coffee with Sambuca

FEED 1: 6:30 – 6 oz bottle of all BM. If she doesn’t take it, we may have to do ½ BM ½ formula. {This is usually a big meal for her, so I am guessing 6 oz, but may be less) Coffee #2 & 3 and a little more Sambuca

NAP 1: 8:30 {maybe save the leftover BM bottle from breakfast to use to ‘nurse’ her to sleepland….ONLY if ALL BM, NO FORMULA because it cannot be left out) Yay!  Mimosa time!

FEED 2: 9:30/10 (when she wakes from nap1) – 4 oz bottle of all BM (or do the “Milkshake” if you struggled with all BM earlier) Milkshake? Fine. We’re going to Dunkin Donuts and Blaine will have a coffee coolatta.  I’ll be sure to put it in her Mam Bottle, Nipple Level 2 that I’ve slit open with my car key so the coolatta can push through like a BM. 

NAP 2: 12/12:30  As will I.  I’m hung over from breakfast.

FEED 3: 1/1:30 (when she wakes from nap 2) – 4 oz bottle of BM It’s Dr. Tito’s time – Vitamin V with a splash of Vitamin C for a healthy immune system.  See?  I can google too 🙂

FEED 4: 4:30/5 – 4 oz bottle Happy Hour – Wine & Whine time

NAP 3: Squeeze this in either before or after FEED 4 (hard to tell here because it’s really based off of her two naps/earlier feeds)  Kid is going for a nap because I’ve turned your nanny cam off so you can’t stalk us from your iphone.

FEED 5: Bedtime bottle of 6 oz (do “Milkshake” here) after bath at 6:30.  I’ll wipe her face, neck and va-j-j down with some Mr. Clean.  She’ll be lemony fresh.

BED: no later than 7PM The one thing we can agree on.
NIGHTFEEDS:{unfortunately still occurring}
*Blaine has been waking between 9PM-10PM and this is usually a result of the fact that she did not get a good Bedtime feed. This may be different if she gets the bottle at bedtime, however, if she does wake, I suggest to prepare a 4 OZ BOTTLE OF FORMULA to give to her. She may or may not take it. If she does take it, this is all she gets for the rest of the night until 6am, and you can let her cry…. If she DOES NOT take it, then you may have to try again when she wakes next.  Blaine won’t be waking for her nighttime feed because she’s sleeping with Prince Nyquil added to her BM.
** Be careful of mosquitos in Botanical Gardens especially at the small park on the swing!! Also, they can sneak in the car. Blaine has her mother’s sweet blood.  Maybe Baby Blaine would benefit from a mosquito sucking out a little of that neurotic, sweet blood.

On a serious note, I just hope that Blaine’s parents know and care for this child with the exact same amount of fervor in the coming years. Truth is, infants are the easiest part.  All they need is to be loved, held and cuddled, kissed, fed, and cleaned.  That’s it.  It’s when they grow older you need to be able to recognize signs of low self esteem, struggle, drug use, medical issues whether it be physical or mental.  This is when you need to really know your child’s needs.  Recognizing is the easy part, it’s a parent’s devotion of maintaining that you love and care enough to help them through. 

This is Part 1 of a yet to be determined series.  Parents have had to adapt to so many changes since I began having children 28 years ago.  There is a question/scare mark over so much:  GMO’s in food, immunizations, school massacres, mental health, and suicide just to touch on a very few.

Until Part 2, this is the photo I sent to my niece after she sent me instructions on how to care for her baby.

CAPTION:  “NOT A PROBLEM.  I’LL TAKE GOOD CARE OF HER!”