Dad 5.0

When I met Dear Hubby (aka Paul Tischler) in 1994, we were both idealists in our mid-thirties. At the time, I lived in Houston inside the loop in  a bright and tidy apartment with a bright and amazing roommate (Peggy Jarrett).  I worked, I played, I volunteered, I read, I exercised, I drank socially. I lived a fulfilling, ordered life. Paul, however, swept me off my feet and before I could blink, I was married, living in Austin, and designing our future.

Our plan was basically:  Get married, get pregnant, have 2 or 3 kids (one at a time, of course), raise the kids perfectly, retire early and rich, die happy.  Turns out that this design didn't even make it to Beta.

Here is what actually happened:  Make a few attempts at repairing my infertility, seriously impact my health, I have a hysterectomy, we amend our vision to include adoption, adopt two girls a year and a half apart, travel a lot, wait several years, become foster parents, adopt three at once, and forget that early retirement!

So the version  of "Dad" our family "released" has changed quite a bit since we met.  And it looks a lot different than what either of us thought being a dad meant when we grew up. Yet this is our story and we are writing it this way.

Paul is "that" Dad who takes his kids to sports. We started in gymnastics when the girls were 4 and 2.  A few years later, Dad and the girls had a 2 or 3 year stint in Tae Kwon Do. Several years ago now, first Pepper then Sunshine started fast-pitch softball and that's the one that stuck. We are down to only Sunshine playing right now but Dad is in charge of practices and early arrivals for games. In the fall, all 3 Littles will also play ball.  Paul is "that Dad" who goes to every practice and game, shags balls in the outfield during  practice, runs the scoreboard and shops for cleats.

He is also "that Dad" whose job, as he says, is to "drive, carry and pay."  He has to do more "carry" than most since that stint of trying to cure my infertility left me with a serious lack of cartilage  in the knees and not so great hips and shoulders. All that carrying he does helps me preserve my joints for the long haul and I so appreciate it! He (fortunately) loves to drive because all of these sports and their practices require a lot of driving. We also made an early decision that "the journey is the destination" so most of our trips are road trips and we have traveled about 200,000 miles in the last 18 years, most of them with Paul at the wheel.

He taught the oldest three to ride their bikes, the oldest two to roller-skate and everyone to use a fork and knife. He's the dad you see in the neighborhood on Saturdays, riding bikes or skateboards with the kids. He's also the dad that has taken a half-day off work every Valentines Day for the last 12 years to go "Valentines Bowling" with our kids. As a result, my kids think Valentines Day is a major family holiday.

Now that I am working outside the house for the first time since having kids, he is also "that Dad" that picks the kids up from daycare, takes kids to appointments, wrangles them every Saturday morning while I work, and empties the dishwasher or feeds the kids when I get home late. He's the Dad who goes to Kindergarten awards (a sacrifice greater than you realize).  He is the dad who doesn't comment on the expense when every Friday's dinner seems to be takeout and who also understands that Taco Bell is sometimes an actual necessity.

It takes an extraordinary person to decide to father 5 children. Is he perfect? Of course not. He yells, he threatens, he's overly serious at times -- but he's their Dad and they are getting a good start in life. He loves them and that's what truly matters. He's DAD 5.0.  I am grateful to share my life with him.

The Internet "Doctor": A Cautionary Tale

I started to write a post about my recent experience with Atrial Fibrillation (Afib for short) and well it was just too boring. So instead, here is what I really want you to know:

Do NOT go the internet "doctor" if you think something may be "wrong" with you. Go to the EMERGENCY ROOM or at least the REAL doctor.

Otherwise, this may happen to you:

• 7 different doctors and 20 or more nurses will be astounded at your stupidity
• You may get 9 days of "vacation" you did not count on
• Your family may alternate between high levels of concern and high levels of abject hatred for you while you are on your "vacation" (but they'll hide both well)
• If you are lucky, you will get "stuck "only a few times.  If you are unlucky, you will get stuck 19 times, not counting the last- resort "pick" line when you run out of viable places to poke.
• You might get to take more different meds (at once and every day) than in your entire life to date.  
• You may get to swallow a tube so they can take a look at your innards. But if you are really lucky, you won't remember much.
• You will get a whole new medical vocabulary
• You might learn more about the ICU than any conscious person should know.

It's not all bad news:

• I met a few dozen highly caring, warm and extremely professional nurses, doctors, aids, and housekeepers; I have never received finer care.  
• I didn't have a stroke. I can't say that enough. And I will likely be fine. This could have been far, far worse.
• I found a "bonus" physician for my daughter; a wonderful internist since mine isn't taking new patients.
• I discovered Seton Williamson County has delicious food; really. 
• I actually did get to read a lot of books and, this is important,
• My nails have never looked better! There is nothing like a vacation from housework and untying shoelace knots to improve your manicure.
• My family and I were showered with love and support, especially from our church family. Karen, Anna, Gina, Candace, Leonore, Roberta and Denise (and back to Karen again) - thank you for loving my family in this way; you know how much the ministry of hospitality means to me.
• I was treated to some wonderful visits; no matter how dull I seemed, those visits meant the world to me. Bless you.
• And last but not least, I received last rites for the first time (ha, ha). Father Dean dropped everything to get there before my "procedure" while on his way to a very important Holy Week Chrism Mass. I was not nervous a whit and even though they didn't get to shock my heart, all went well.

So it could be worse. But in truth, a lot or all of this trauma may have been avoided by not self-diagnosing my heart's regular Watusi. Don't do as I did. See a doctor.  The end.

(Photo credit: Mary Chanelle)

A Few Good Books

I've been reading an eclectic but fascinating series of books lately so thought I'd share the list . . .  with one caveat; you have to send me some of your favorite books too!  Three of these were sent to me by two of my favorite readers, Father Sam and my sister, Darinda Huntley. They never steer me wrong.

Novels

These first three were all new authors for me and I will be reading more by each of them!

 Nightwoods by Charles Frazier
This is my favorite kind of novel with many layers of stories within a story.  A fairly contemporary story, the main character is an eclectic single woman who unexpectedly "inherits" two very damaged young children. I could not put this book down and my house is proof!

The Given Day by Dennis Lehane
This is a "man's" book. Historical fiction set just at the end of World War I, Lehane weaves a fascinating story of the intertwining of three characters, Babe Ruth, a good, poor black man trying to eek out a living, and an open-minded Irish cop of means. I loved this book but be warned, there is a fair amount of violence and no romance. Suffice it to say that I had a couple of nightmares in which the events of the story wound themselves into my life. It's a good read that can occupy your imagination even in your sleep.  Lehane authored a follow-up to this book, Live by Night, that I will be reading next. (By the way, this is NOT a book for teens.)

The Incredible Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender
I suspect this novel is technically classified as Sci-Fi, but that part does not come into the story early. It is a completely fascinating tale of a couple of young adults who had a perfectly normal (aka challenging) upbringing. The story is built around a lemon birthday cake and the memories it conjures for the narrator. This book is a true page-turner with a very surprising ending.

Non-Fiction

A Voyage Long and Strange: Rediscovering the New World by Tony Horwitz.  I fell in love with this Pultizer Prize winning journalist when I was assigned Confederates in the Attic for a class on The South. (Thank you Sydney Duncan!) I love history and this is my favorite kind of history. Horwitz begins at Plymouth Rock and digs into the rich history of exploration of our country before the Pilgrims set foot on the famous rock. What results is an amazing -- and sometimes bloody-- story of Conquistadors, ne'er do wells, slaves, native peoples, priests, Vikings, tricksters and quite a few bumbling fools. I had the happy accident of spraining my ankle while reading this book so I had an excuse to neglect my family and read it!

Introduction to the Devout Life by St. Francis de Sales
Just as the title proclaims, St. Francis de Sales instructs the reader on how to live a devout life. Written in the form of a letter to a homemaker, it is intended for the layperson. It is a very meaty book so I could only digest a few pages at a time, but it totally reformed confession for me! And I would venture to say that although there are definitely parts of the book that would be most meaningful to Catholics, a protestant could definitley glean a lot of useful things from his writing. And at 99 cents for the kindle version, you sure aren't taking much of a gamble.

Why do Catholics Do That? by Kevin Orlin Johnson. This is an older book that I originally read while in RCIA. I decided to re-read it as part of the Year of the Faith. 14 years into my Catholic faith life, I definitely benefited from the review. Johnson does not attempt to reconstruct the Catechism (which he encourages every Catholic to read and reference) but rather gives simple explanations of some baffling practices of the faith from the artwork and icons in our church buildings to transubstantiation. Some of the things that people told me were "a mystery of the faith" are actually explained in this book. Most people would probably learn a thing or two from this book -- and since it's interestingly assembled and easy to read, you'd probably enjoy it too!

There are so many more but this ought to put something truly worthwhile in your hands for a day or two!

Eatin' Irish

Growing up, my family didn't really celebrate St. Patrick's Day -- except the pinching part. When I moved to Texas in 1978, a sweet friend invited me for St. Paddy's Day . . . and served Corned Beef and boiled cabbage.  The smell alone cured me for a while.  I'm not a big drinker and even if I were, green beer hasn't really appealed to me, so that let out the celebrations in local bars.

Only 35 years later, I decided to cook a Saint Patrick's Day feast because I may not be Irish, but I'm a foodie.  My family are fantastic eaters and we all enjoy cultural food adventures.  After extensive research, I came up with a few authentic (sounding, anyway!) dishes and one not authentic but yummy sounding desert.

Here's our feast.  Enjoy! The links to the recipes are below the photos.

Our "starter" was Guinness Rarebit.  It was very rich and should not be served with a meal!  But we did it anyway.  I cut the butter in half and do not be fooled; this makes enough sauce for may more than 4 pieces of bread.  I am freezing the leftover and will resurrect it eventually as fondue.  The leftover Guinness did not go to waste!

Homemade Pork Sausage, Colcannon, and homemade Apple Sauce.

Oh my goodness, this was delicious. I used parsley, not marjoram, in the sausage and added salt and savory and it was so delicious.  But truly, every dish was delish and we will not wait a year to have this combo again.  (That said, "full fat" sausage is an extremely rare occurrence in our home so the next time around, it will be half ground turkey or chicken breast.)  I halved the sugar in the applesauce, too.

Here it is all together on my plate.  I meant to serve English peas, too, but just plain forgot.

We topped it off with a Skinny Shamrock Shake with a secret ingredient.

[My photo is not the best because it was hot in our kitchen! ]  I avoid using food coloring in our kitchen except very rarely because I just don't think we need it. Real food is lovely, anyway.  But a Shamrock Shake just needs to be green so I followed this recipe to the tee, including the avocado.  This was so tantalizing.  I love that the fat is from avocado and not super-rich ice cream.  If you try it, be sure to add the ice because the added volume is lovely. Every one loved it and we did not tell them about the avocado.  A "must repeat" desert!

Finally,  finish off your own St. Paddy's Day with a little fun. Cheers!

"Gram" - a Word for Love

Today is the birthday of my maternal grandmother, Agnes Timmons Leeper.  I lost both my grandfathers when I was very young, and "Gram," as we called her, was the most active grandparent in my life. Beset by tragedy in the prime of her life, she lived many years in our family home.

Gram was from the "old days."  She grew up riding horses and a visit to the nearby city (40 miles on mountain roads) was a rare adventure that took at least a couple of days by horse and buggy.  She worked hard as a young adult, cooking in logging camps and hotels and I've often said my love of cooking for crowds was genetically pre-determined as both my grandmothers were legendary group cooks!  She finally got to settle in as a housewife when my Granddad landed a good job as the manager of the grain warehouse.  A lady of her time, she never wore slacks until the 1970s or maybe 1980s and even then, wore them with stockings and under duress in only the coldest of weather; it was scandalous to her.

When I was 4 or 5, we drove the 1000 miles or so to visit my grandparents.  Gram was relatively young back then, in her 40s, and she showed us a good time.  Before the state had cut paths through the ancient, glacier formed mountains and  leveled all the roads, the roads in that part of the country were very hilly.  Gram took us to the county seat by back roads in her standard car; she'd shift into neutral on the way down the hills and the car would speed up faster and faster.  When we hit the bottom of the hill and started up the other side, our stomachs would flip just like on a roller coaster.   Just before the car slowed to a crawl, she'd shift the car into the gear, the car would roar to life, and climbing the next big hill, we'd start all over again. I credit Gram with my love for the thrill ride!

They lived in their family home still, and had chickens running around outside. I was a city girl --we lived in Boulder, Colorado back then -- and this was my initiation to rural life.  Grandma went outside and caught a chicken for a special dinner. She worked efficiently but learning where my dinner originated made a lasting impression me. That was a wonderful visit; I can still see her making pies in her kitchen, the counter covered with flour, the window vining with plants; I can smell the bread rising and see her standing shoulder to shoulder with my mom, then in her 20s, both of them adorned with aprons and laughing together.

Shortly after our visit, the unthinkable happened. My grandfather committed suicide. Grandma, unable to cope with her loss, was eventually given a common mental-health treatment of the day, shock treatment. Seen with today's lenses, the treatment seems primitive and cruel.  Back then, it's just how things were done.

After her treatment, she came to live with us. I know this was hard on my parents as she was like a toddler afterward; she had to re-learn all her adult skills, including self-care, and it broke my mother's heart. That said, this was back in the day when parents protected their children from adult problems and nothing my parents said or did ever indicated to me that they were struggling. For me, Gram living in our house was pure joy. She was fun and silly and all love to me. Grandma had not been raised to hug a lot or say she loved you, but she showed it in myriad ways.  We had adventures together and having her in our home was a great joy of my childhood.  When she moved back to Idaho, I thought my heart would never heal.

She was a woman of character too and fiercely defended all her grandchildren and grands-in-law. When word reached me that one of my cousins was getting divorced, I mentioned it to Gram. She said, "Well, no one had better say anything bad about her (my cousin's spouse). We loved her when she was married to him and we will love her now." That stuck with me.  I am sure I personally disappointed her many times but she showed nothing but encouragement to me.

When I was a young adult and lived for a time nearby, we had a number of adventures together. I loved spending time with her because she was a hoot!  Just as my kids love toast with jam because it is a treat my parents share with them, I love toast with cinnamon sugar and coffee with milk and sugar because Gram made it for me every time I entered her home. When I moved back to Texas, I missed her terribly and I felt so guilty for leaving her. I was a selfish 20-something then but I realize now, it must have hurt her so.

It's hard for me to believe she's been gone 15 years.  The last time I saw her, very shortly before her death, she had been confused and unreachable for several days. I lived 2200 miles away so had not seen her in a couple of years. She lay in the nursing home, unmoving and mostly unresponsive. Mom warned me that she had been very confused and likely would not recognize or remember me. When I walked into her room with 1 year old Pepper in my arms, she reached for my arms, looked me straight in the eyes, and said, "I never thought I'd see you again."  It melted my heart.

While I'm past old enough to be a grandma, I haven't reached that stage of life yet. When I get there, I hope I can be as loving to my grandkids as Grandma was.

Happy birthday, Gram.  I miss you every day.

[The cute 11 year old on the left is my grandma.  I now see how much my cousin Kelly has her smile!]