(This is how the taffy triple rose dried..)
Since Star Wars came out backwards, so will the post of last night.,,, And we will blame it on Darth Prednisone. Because, why else when you are so tired, you would suddenly get up and start cleaning?
After a blog post?
This girl.
After finally talking with a good friend, and trying to heed her request to write THIS --- meaning day to day reality of fighting chronic fatigue, chrohns, depression, infections, side effects and pioneering new drugs upon the pages of this blog. I guess that was what you meant, C?
Well, I did. And then...
I stopped.
And had to do something else with my hands. They hurt and I needed to move them in a different way than typing. Can you believe that I haven't written in my journals for months because it hurts? Well, I take that back. I have written small blips. But not MY story.Which is what they are for.
So I pulled out the wire I stole from my neighbor which has given me countless hours of threading buttons to try and help get my mind off my arthritic, hurting, non-circulating hands. Thanks, D.
I owe you a spool of wire.
(Although it is hard to see, I am beneath the table of The Rock- my second to last trip up there. Since becoming sick. I am proud of that pic and owe it all to Prednisone. It was before I knew its initial super human powers. Thanks for trekking up there with me Dave, and taking this pic.
It means a lot to me and is a source of inspiration.)
As I moved, more energy came- that needed to be let out..... the next day was a big day for my mother. We'd said our good-nights. She tiredly looked at the floor and mop and decided she'd 'get up early' and do the mopping.
I descended into my "hard evenings" as she went to her bed where I know she fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.
A big family get together. Two babies. Two Blessings;
One Padre.
One home that needed cleaning.
(Some major googling on viruses, flu on top of all this and I went into Disinfect. Sterilization Mode.)
I have even avoided holding these new nephews for fear of getting them sick.
I've told Jaden to not breathe right in their faces and have made great strides because of this flu season. And my overly obsessive worry whilst on prednisone.
Sooo.... despite the tired. I got up and stretched out my legs and arms. Did some high knees. Then set a small goal:
Maybe just this basebment bathroom. I told myself.
I took out the purple cleaning gloves, gathered several cleaning rags from under the sink and started in slowly. Thinking all the while of Hugh Jackman in Les Mis as he was pulling in the ship and looking like Jafar off Aladin.
(I always love a sink side flower. Nothing says good morning better or 'cheer up!' than sink side, Especially if this is your office and you have to a lot of anguish in this room- try and make it cheery!)
They say start top to bottom. So I did. I wiped the light fixture dust off witha damp paper towel. I sprayed windex on the mirror wiped it down and found I had energy to do the hand streaked hallway mirror.
No problems. The curmudingly blood was moving through those veins, like thick grease. For some reason it hurts. But it is better than just being horizontal and having it pool.
Next I tackled the counter tops, sink and down all wood work drawers, the handles and light fixtures.
New rag of course on those light switches and door handle!. I went to each in the basement. I started a load of laundry to clean the shower curtain.
Then I knelt at the throne and cleaned. Scoured. New rag. I knelt on top of the bath mats and slowly hand mopped the floor. As if it was some sort of penance for whatever in life.
(and nothing helps you pull up your petticoats than a good talk with an old or new friend. I have overcome and rose above much cause of those talks. Thanks, C. This is what the young man picked out for me. I will have to find this delivery boy and give him a thank you!)
I found myself with a new rag, a rinsed out bucket and more Lysol going up the stairway. Scouring the walls, handrail and along the trim. And can I plug in here a shout out to Jackman's wife who gets a lot of flack for not meeting the Hollywood standard? She apparently is older than he is, and isn't a size 2. I know that they suffered two miscarriages. Can you imagaine? She is a real person, a mom. She's soft and cuddly like one should be and who knows what kind of health problems she could have? Or all the horrible medicines and shots she had to do to try and get pregnant? If that is what she had to go through. Heck, I applaud a human being on the red carpet next to Hugh, who loves his wife.
It seems to be that way. And I thank the Lord that it wasn't me who had to walk the red while on prednisone to support my really hot husband in an amazing movie. But that is because I am proud.
Yay for people who can look past all us judgemental people! Bravo Mrs. Jackman and thank you. You helped me clean my house too.
Back to my original story......
I reached the top of the stairs where, a landing that was so covered in soot needed sweeping. I stood. ugh. head rush. Do I keep going? This is insane. But I want to GIVE this to my mom. I want her to be rested. I want her to not feel down that the house isn't clean.
Was this me at 4 am?
Yes.
I swept that landing. I knelt down and used the last of the semi dirtywater in the blue bucket.
Did I stop here?
NO. I did not.
(although unfocused, still precious! The last of the V-day Daisy bouquet. You outlasted them all!)
I opened the landing door to a whole new project.
Sigh:Dishes.
The original floor that needed mopping that was what we were going to worry about the next day and let the rest go by the way side. I mean, who notices brand new towels placed strategically? And who lives that way? I am lucky to get J. to not crumple it up into a knot on the bar. (actually he does a good job of folding it and hanging his towel and bath mat. I am proud he is trying to learn those little things that are important.)
I paced myself through the kitchen. Sterilize sink iwth Clorox. Sweep. Empty sink and start washing some dishes that I let dry while I -Mop. Let dry. While I sit on a chair with the fan blowing above me to speed up the drying process. Gather my gumption and walk into the upstairs bathroom.
And it's in these moments that I come to know my mother.
Yes, I am a stay-at-home daughter. But we pass like ships in the night due to our schedules. But it is in the cleaning, the folding, the tiredness that I come to know my mother and appreciate her. Does my being here help? Am I an asset to my family, despite being sick?
I push on.
Clear clutter and wipe down mirrors. The smell of Lysol, Clorox and clean wood is emanating in the house and it makes me happy. It is a backdrop that no one will take notice of unless you are my mother, a mother, or someone who appreciates cleainging before a party or having to put on a party.
Mom and I will have a moment later on that is like passing the baton in a relay race; I will hand off to her what I can not finish.
At this point my lower back is screaming. But I have half of the kitchen floor to cover. And the upstairs bathroom to finish disinfecct.
Also.... I have to put my signature atmosphere to the rooms...
Divide up my yellow birthday roses and place them strategically throughout the living room and kitchen for atmosphere.
The idea: a Fresh Palette with which my mom mother could work with the next day as she fed our guests. At 6:30 a.m. she joined me in making some dishes for the compnay.
I finally made it into the comet scoured bath tub and cleaned myself, tied my wet hair into a bun and fell into a coma.
I missed two babies get blessed, because I was too tired. But I felt the importance and special moment that would take later that day as I cleaned. I felt that I was present in a different sort of way.)
I even stuck a mask on and held one of the babes until Torment Jr. pulled it off like it was a game.
But what was funny, I was too tired before I started the cleaning mission.
What changed?
(well cortisol level of adrenaline due to prednisone)
However
It is amazing what you can accomplish when you realize someone is coming over and you need to clean your toilet. There was company coming and I felt them and thought of my mother who would have gotten up and tried to do all of she could before church and then entertain.
It pushed me on.
I am paying for it today, tonight. As many of you who have dysfunctional bodies can attest.
I am glad that I have some yellow roses that will be with me another day and sad that this bunch wasn't as hearty at the ones Padre picked up after V-Day.
I am happy to report that the two cray fish that joined our fam. will be leaving our fam.
They stink and J. only needed one time of cleaning out their little home to realize that once a week of that would be too much work for him. And even he can't stand the smell.
Luckily we didnt' name them. So off they will go. To a home somewhere. Probably back to Wal-Mart. Yay.
*Tell me where you think the best roses come from here in I.F.
I know that in the summer they come from Sister Rose Bush and my Grandmothers. --We will sit for and just admire them and she will tell me too cut one off wrap it in a wet paper towel and put it in a prescription pill vase for the ride home. I love it.
*Tell me what you are reading! J. and I are reading Gary Paulsen's The Winter Room and our FAVORITE The Cricket In Time Square.
What are you grateful for right this moment?
Don't send these answers to my email. It's defunct and I will be opening up a new one. So don't be afraid to use the link below and you can even be anonymous.
What is the hardest thing for you to throw away?
How do you keep track of all the cute things your kids make-or do you?
What do you do when you are at your wits end? Is there someone special that you can depend on?
Tell me!
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