This photo was taken three years ago on our trip to Newfoundland.  As they say, that's only the tip of the iceberg.

I'm feeling weepy today.  Yesterday was a day from hell.  Our first biopsy patient coded on the table, during her biopsy.  Her heart never did stop, thankfully, but she was unresponsive and her oxygen levels dropped enough that we had to bag her.  My heart rate always goes sky high during a code and it takes me awhile to recover.  The patient's husband was distraught, rightfully so.  An ambulance was called, our clinic/hospital doesn't have an emergency or ICU, so patients get sent over the University Hospital.  The patient was bleeding from her mouth and nose so I made EMS stop while I wiped the blood off her face as they were going to walk right past the husband.  Blood upsets people, even nurses.  The patient made it over to the University and woke up.  Nobody seems quite sure what happened but it shook us all, especially the doc. Stroke maybe?  We'll see.

Another patient fainted and lots of tough, tough IVs that I had to start as I'm the expert, or at least the oldest.  Mentally draining, and spending an hour starting an IV is tiring.  Lots of patients, lots of chaos.  At the end of the day I locked my purse and keys in my locker so we had to wait for the maintenance guys to come and use bolt cutters to remove my lock.

Then Jack came back to our place last night with soaking wet feet, boots and pants.  He looked exhausted.  Last night he slept for 12.5 hours.  

My father in law is still in hospital and I'm still trying to get the rental house fixed up.  Everytime one job is done, another twelve pop up.  The drywall is being repaired today and tomorrow and now the contractor says we should pull the toilet and replace the seal because he thinks there may be a slow leak as well, which is not a huge job but it is another job.  And all of the fittings under all of the sinks have leaked over the the past few years because apparently that type of fitting was no good, at least that's what the realtor said, so there's that to deal with.  And the backyard is filled with Gracie's junk still.    

I'm feeling overwhelmed right now.  And Gracie wants to start taking Jack overnight again which scares the shit out of me.  Gracie has applied for jobs and wants to change his daycare and that scares me too because she has never managed to hold a job and take care of Jack by herself, or without having a core meltdown.  And writing this makes me want to cry again.

And there's dog poop all over the back yard that needs to be picked up.  Everything is too much today.  

 A sad update, the patient did not survive.

It's still snowing off and on here.  This photo was from last weekend and much of that snow has melted again but then it snowed again on Friday night.  

We had Jack for three nights.  We took him swimming yesterday morning and he had a blast.  There was a slide in the middle of the kids pool and a river too, which swept us around an island of calm.  It's hard to describe but a good time was had by all.  

We had lunch out and then came home.  He helped me with baking and then with prepping supper.  I made nasi goreng with peanut sauce.  I let him sniff everything as I put it into the sauce.  The only thing that wasn't too "yucky" was the garlic.  He licked the lime and was startled to find it so sour.  

We also made peanut butter squares.  He was very helpful at licking all the spoons and spatulas clean.  

Yesterday morning I blew him a raspberry.  He said, "Nana, you fart in your mouth."

I try not to worry about Jack spending time with his mom.  Gracie's mother and sister both went away this weekend and the uncle is supposed to supervise Gracie.  I don't get that family.  Or maybe I am way too responsible.  

Nothing much going on here.  We're taking Katie out for lunch and then heading to Wetaskiwin to visit the big guy's father who is back in hospital.  My father in law is not doing well and he is nearing the end of his life.  

I am locked in a battle with the cat who wants to eat/kill all my tomato seedlings.  So far, the cat is winning.  

Another old photo of Mum and two of her older sisters.  Mum is on the right.  

We now have permanent guardianship of Jack, along with his other Grandma and his aunt.  No matter what happens, he will be safe.  I am thankful.

 

I wrote this awhile ago because of a prompt from Elizabeth.

I’m a fifty-nine year old woman with three grown children.  I’m also a grandma.

I had my first child at twenty-one years old and I had no idea what I was doing.  Of course I thought I did, but that wasn’t the case. 

Mistakes were made.

I spent my twenties having babies and going to school.  I became a nurse and even got married during that time.

Being a mom was all I ever wanted when I was young.  It was not what I expected. 

My last baby was born with a severe intellectual disability.  My oldest son had learning disabilities and a strong penchant for lying.   My husband was an alcoholic.   I was depressed.

Mistakes were made.

I have two grandchildren now, two little boys by two different women, both belong to my son. 

My son has spent the last twenty years of his life locked in a battle with drugs and alcohol.  The drugs and alcohol are winning.   He is slowly losing his mind. 

His oldest son is living with my husband and me now.  Five years ago I remarried a lovely man who is happy to be a grandpa to my grandson. 

I’m raising a small person again, at fifty-nine. 

Some things have changed.  I’m no longer young. 

Some things haven’t changed.  Small people need a lot of love and attention.

Mistakes will be made.

I don’t beat myself up like I did when I was young.  I know how imperfect I am.  I know my flaws much better now.

I run the dishwasher, sometimes when it’s not even full.  I put pots and pans and plastic in the dishwasher too.  I lead a reckless life.  All those years of hand washing pots, mistakes were made.

I don’t worry about the fact that my grandson will only eat french fries and chicken.  

My almost three year old grandson isn’t toilet trained yet.  I also know he won’t go to school in diapers.  I toilet trained his disabled auntie, it took five years.  I got this.

I’m much more patient.  When my grandson yells, “Nana, you  bad guy!” because I took away a toy, I don’t take it personally and I’m impressed with his language skills.

I melted my brand new air fryer by accident and yelled “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” and then cried hard and scared him.  Mistakes were made.

 I apologize to my grandson when I screw up and I try to tell him why I screwed up.  I was tired.  I was scared.  I was angry.  I was hungry.  I was sad.

I’m thankful when my grandson doesn’t repeat everything I say and I’m learning to say fart and sugar.

I tell him I love him, even when he’s mad at me.  I tell him it’s okay to be mad at me and that I will always love him.

His anger with me isn’t a knife in the heart like it was with my own children.  It’s not personal; he’s learning and he feels safe enough to be angry with me.  He knows I can handle it and even more importantly, I know I can handle it now.

The last six months have been hard.  Mistakes were made.  Mostly though, there was a lot of love and I've learned to sit down with a little person and just give him my time and attention.  Sitting side by side is enough sometimes.  

 Hawkeye said it best.

It seems some days that WH Auden was right and that "...nothing now can ever come to any good."

The madman in Russie continues his illegitimate war on Ukraine.  This makes me so angry I could scream.  I feel myself twisting inside, trying so hard to turn away from reality, trying to accept what is, when reality is unacceptable.

When I'm angry, I do.  I'm going to our rental today to paint and throw out garbage that Gracie left behind.  

Heidi remains calm and loving as always.  I want to know her secret.