Babies

I had four babies. The baby part wasn't my favorite part of parenting. I was exhausted for ten years. All of my babies were colicky. I think I held them pretty much all the time for the first year of their lives.

That would have been fun (and most of the time was) if I hadn't had other obligations. I remember one time spending the first couple of hours of the morning with a baby over my shoulder. Later, when I was in a meeting I noticed a familiar aroma. When I was finally about to get to a restroom I saw that he had spit up all the way down the back of my jacket.

But the truth is that if I had it to do over again I would have worked even harder at it. Raising my children was, by far, the most important thing I ever did - or will do.

This past Monday my Boyfriend and I toured the Florida United Methodist Children's Home. I've been familiar with the Home for 40 years, and I worked there for a short time a decade ago.

I didn't work with the children. I was part of fund raising.

Let's be honest, almost every kid would prefer to be with his or her mom no matter what. But when a child has to be somewhere other than with family, the Children's Home is a very good place.

The children live in beautiful brick cottages with houseparents. They receive counselling and everything else they (and their families) need in order to get back together - if possible. Traditionally the Home's kids have been school aged.

But a couple of new components have been added since I was there. One is a foster parent program. Couples care for babies. Sometimes straight from the hospital.

Sometimes babies who are a few weeks old but come straight from the hospital because they've been abused. Some babies in casts.

I'm grateful for the Children's Home. But I'm also grateful for every mom and dad who hold their babies and loves their kids - no matter what.



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Hormones

Years ago, in the excellent movie "Fried Green Tomatoes" the Kathy Bates character is frustrated and sad and finally takes a sledge hammer to her house. When she visits her new, old lady friend in the nursing home, played by the great Jessica Tandy, and tells her she thinks she's going insane, Jessica says:

"Honey, you just need some hormones!"

About six years ago I, along with millions of other women, threw away the hormones that I'd been taking for many years. Tests that had been done with Prempro proved that, not only did the drug not guard against cancer, it could cause cancer we might unknowingly have, to grow.

I was taking Premarin but, after reading all the reports, I decided that the risk was too high to continue. Besides, most doctors said that,

• Hot flashes lasted only a minute or so
• They would go away completely within three years

The result was six years of intense hot flashes - day and night - rapid cycling.

During the night I would wake up at least three times feeling like I was suffocating. I'd get up, douse my entire body with cold water and lie under the ceiling fan until things calmed down. Twenty minutes to a half hour.

During the day I wore layers of clothing because when the flashes came I had to throw off the top layer fast.

I tried every alternative. My new gynecologist was the Pakistani guy at the health food store.

A few months ago my female internist said "You can't go on like this."

So I'm now taking a tiny dose of hormones 3 times a week. I still have a few light hot flashes - but they're manageable. I can sometimes sleep 6 straight hours - something I haven't done in many years. My life has changed immeasurably for the better.

I should have listened to Jessica.



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Sunday Is A-Comin'

It seems like people are dropping like flies! My niece has written a sad, hysterically funny, insightful blog called "Living with the Oldies" for the last couple of years.

Her in laws, who were dying at the time, moved in with her and her husband about then. They received such excellent care that they got better. Not well - but better enough to cause trouble on a daily basis.

The Oldie mom died a few weeks ago. The Oldie dad on Friday.

I had shared the blog with a friend who's been caring for her elderly parents. Her mother's memorial service was last night.

My Boyfriend is back after attending his sister's memorial service in North Carolina.

Hole Week is upon us. We experienced such a powerful worship service this morning that we barely spoke on the way to the restaurant to meet "My Oldies" who showed up late and worried us.

This is the week we who call ourselves "Christian" are to dwell a bit on the agony of Christ's last days. I have friends of other faiths who are in solidarity with us on this.

This morning's service ended with a video of Jesus on the cross. An African American minister did the voice over - describing the anguish, pain and suffering in great detail but interspersing the phrase "They didn't know that Sunday was a-comin'."

So when I'm allowing myself in this Holy Week to be introspective and sad or worried sick about various things - I need to remember.

Sunday Is A Comin'.







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How Could It Happen?

The news is dying down about Eliot Spitzer, the disgraced former governor of New York. But people are still full of opinions about how a man like Gov. Spitzer could get caught up in such shenanigans.

It reminded me of some mainline, highly respected ministers I've known personally who've been caught up in similar things and ultimately destroyed their careers and their families and broke the hearts of countless other people.

I think those who isolate themselves become vulnerable. They start out headed in the right direction but as they become more powerful they begin to surround themselves with only those who listen and follow their orders - but never question them.

We all need people in our lives who say "Hey, knock it off!" from time to time.

Years ago I knew a lady who started her adult life and her career full of good dreams and ambitions. She became an elementary school principal. She ruled her school with an iron fist. She never married. There was nobody in her life to call her into question.

She got weirder and weirder. She ended up without a job and friendless.

We all need people - who love and respect us - to tell us the truth.

My friends, family and colleagues sure don't let me get away with any shenanigans.



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Pricey Purses

Designer bags seem to be mandatory for a certain segment of the population. I, myself, have a nice purse. But it's almost three years old and I never change purses to match my outfit. Fortunately almost everything I wear is black and my purse is black. When it wears out I'll get a new one.

This morning after a meeting with some people who are extremely worried about the economy, I stopped by my neighborhood mall to walk two miles.

Dillard's has a nice size section of Coach purses, most of them behind glass. Macy's has a nice section of Coach purses, most of them behind glass. Just down the mall from Macy's is a Coach Store.

I can understand a high end mall - but this is my neighborhood mall. I counted 5 women in the Coach store.

Who buys all of these purses? Especially in this economy.

Louis Black, one of my favorite angry comedians, was ranting last night about Eliot Spitzcer spending the $5,000.00 on the call girl. In referencing the mini bar he said, "I can understand the other stuff but spending $18.00 for 9 almonds is obscene."

In this economy, I agree with the latter part of that statement.



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Big Bad Dogs

The mayor of Orlando was out jogging a few days ago and saw his neighbors' dog being attacked by a pit bull. He immediately jumped in the fray, tackled the pit bull and saved the little Jack Russell terrier.

This made the headline of the paper the next day.

Needless to say, the mayor has experienced a lot of good natured kidding. My favorite columnist, Mike Thomas,' piece this morning was a tongue in cheek listing of how other prominent leaders might have handled the situation.

Our state attorney (who some people think starts out strong then loses steam) would "charge the pit bull with 12 counts of attempted murder, reduce it to one count of unintentional biting, and release the dog from the pound with a monitoring collar."

Mel Martinez would "embargo the pit bull and wait 50 years for it to let go."

Bobby Bowden would "still let the pit bull play against Miami."

You get the idea.

What would you do if you'd been in the mayor's shoes? I'm pretty terrified of big, bad dogs. Always have been. You're probably thinking, "But, Cess, if it attacked someone you love you'd do what the mayor did!"

About 18 years ago I was walking in my neighborhood with several family members, pushing one of my new grandbabies in a stroller. All at once a big, snarling dog came charging out of his yard. I immediately abandoned the stroller and ran behind my husband.

I'm not proud of it - but I did it.



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Clean Kitchen Floor

I slept well last night. I'm an early riser but this morning I woke up all groggy. Went to the kitchen. One of the first things I do in the morning is take my medicine (like a good girl.) Then, I make a cup of Lipton's Brisk Tea with 175mg protective antioxidants. It's fast and easy using my little instant boiling water spicket. Then I turn on some music, sit on the couch and read until I'm fully alive. If I'm lucky that can sometimes be three hours.

So I opened the cupboard and grabbed the plastic pill box but immediately dropped it.

It fell into an opened box of diet, caffeine free aluminum coke cans that was sitting vertically on the floor of the cupboard. Don't know how it could have happened but this plastic pill box punctured a coke can. First thing I did was grab the pill box because my B/P meds are quite pricey.

I got a paper towel and dumped the pills that were exposed on the towel and began dabbing at them. Then I noticed the faint hissing sound. So I grabbed the box of cokes - with the one can sprouting a little volcano - and put it in the sink.

But in doing so I dripped coke all over the kitchen floor. I emptied the box, wiped down the coke cans and put them in the fridge - all but the punctured one. In doing so I found some more pills at the bottom of the box but they were goners.

I took my morning pills then scrubbed the entire kitchen floor. It needed it. Then I changed out of my coke sprayed robe and threw it in the washer.

When I sat down on the couch with my tea I was no longer groggy.



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