A mother. A daughter. A topic.
I feel great.
Brian feels great.
What could be better?
It’s been six glorious months since I was lucky enough to give Brian (my ex-husband…for those who are new to She Thinks) one of my kidneys.
Following the surgery, it took me about 2 weeks before I felt good enough to move around on my own, and at 7 weeks (to the day) Matthew and I were standing on the top of Machu Picchu in Peru marveling at the beauty and the grandeur of the surroundings, and I couldn’t help thinking about how incredibly good my life was at that very moment.
At that same time, Brian was traveling in Spain with friends, having far more fun than he’d had for some time before. He was able to walk for hours, eat anything they had to offer, and drink to his hearts’ content (although I think he probably pushed that one a bit too hard for so early in his recovery). He was a bit worn out when he returned…but so were the others in his traveling party, so all in all…he did great!
It probably took him 3-4 months before his energy level started to come back in earnest, but today, he’s feeling stronger and healthier than ever.
What could be better?
I can eat whatever I want. I can drink as I always have. And I don’t have to take any drugs at all to keep my remaining kidney working or healthy. It’s doing everything it’s supposed to do all on its own…and doing it beautifully at that!
Brian has to take a handful of anti-rejection drugs on a daily basis…but he’s got them figured out so that they don’t give him any trouble. It’s just a part of his daily routine, and he accepts it as a fact of life with all of the dignity and grace you would expect from the great, laid back kinda guy he is.
My health hasn’t changed at all (which is a good thing)…but as we all hoped…Brian feels a lot better.
It’s that new feeling of health that allows him to look ahead in a way that he wasn’t able to do for a really long time. He knows now that he’ll be around for awhile. He can engage in life again. He can be a part of his kids’ lives for a long time to come. He has a future.
What could be better?
But the really incredible part of this whole thing for me is that we have something new…between us…that’s totally unique and special (even for our crazy relationship).
We’ve always been close. The best of friends. Even through, and in spite of, our divorce. But this is different.
Now we share something that’s more than just a bond. It’s a connection that is so true, so honest and so real, that we don’t have to try to explain our kind of odd and unusual relationship anymore. Not to each other…and not to anyone else. It’s just understood.
And it’s made me appreciate what I have in my life. My health. My kids. My family. My man. My friends. My time to participate as fully as I can in the life I’m so grateful to have.
Honestly, what can be better than that?
(Don’t know the Kidney A-Go-Go story? May I suggest you go here first?)
It’s funny. I’ve been sitting here staring at the screen for about thirty minutes, and I don’t know what to say.
Not because there’s nothing to say… just that I don’t know how to describe the past six months.
I wasn’t the one who had major surgery. I wasn’t the one who had to recover.
But I was there, every step of the way. And I’m here, six months later, thrilled about how awesome it’s all been.
Part of me says, “Wow, six months? Is that it?”, while another part of me says, “THE CALENDAR IS LYING AND HAS IT REALLY BEEN SIX MONTHS?”
But I guess that’s just what time (and life) tends to do…
We’ve done better than I could have ever imagined or hoped for.
(!)
My dad looks great. His new kidney is happy and healthy and seems to love it’s new home.
My mom looks great. Her other organs are enjoying the extra space. (I assume.)
I’ve been able to move forward, because I feel like I can. There’s not this big
WHAT’S NEXT
WHAT’S HAPPENING
WHATWHEREWHENHOWHUH hanging over us all.
We’re all good.
And beyond that, I don’t really think about it anymore.
In fact, I believe that Mom and Dad have stopped thinking about it, too.
This is mostly because time passes and you move on. (That’s life.)
And also because it’s so much a part of our family’s history and who we are. It’s just not a big deal.
But it’s also because our lives revolved around this event for so long… it’s nice not to be obsessed and worried about it. So much of our future was unknown, and now it feels much… clearer.
And easier.
And oh so much more peaceful.
I often forget how “odd” our situation is. How weird people think my parents are. I’m only reminded when I see the shock flit across someone’s face when I tell them our story.
Because it’s part of our “normal”. It’s not weird anymore. It was what was supposed to happen.
And you don’t question or raise your eyebrows at something like that.
You smile, stay thankful, stay happy, and live.
I have so many…it’s hard to narrow them all down to the biggest….which probably says more about me than about the peeves themselves.
But given this forum, I will certainly try.
In general, my pet peeves ALL have to do with noises. Not just any noises. People noises.
You know. The kinds of sounds that people make that annoy, disturb and grate on your nerves down to your soul.
Like cracking knuckles.
OMG I hate it when people crack their knuckles. I physically stop and turn and glare when I hear someone make that sound of bone joints being pushed in a downward motion until they involuntarily crack…out loud.
OY…it drives me nuts.
Some members of my family (you know who you are) would probably be much happier if they were “allowed” to crack their poor innocent knuckles in my presence, but alas…they know it will never happen. Because it is the most god awful noise on the planet, and I’m not a nice enough person to “let it go” in favor of letting them indulge in something that drives me so insane.
Because it’s really about me. Duh.
They’ve tried to tell me that they crack their knuckles “unconsciously.” Like the urge to move the little bones in their hands until they snap, crackle and pop comes over them in some uncontrollable way.
I don’t think so.
If I want to let loose with an ear screeching squeal (like a panicked dolphin call)…of which I’ve been known to do in the presence of “unconscious” knuckle cracking…I do so with absolute intent. There’s nothing unconscious about it.
So a word to the wise…when you’re near me, don’t crack your knuckles or I might start squealing at the top of my lungs.
Pet peeve #2…Cracking Gum (notice a pattern here).
Who really likes to be around someone who’s cracking their gum?
I mean really. No one can crack their gum quietly or with grace. No…it takes a good amount of jaw thrashing to move their gum strategically to the back of their jaws, while forcing an air bubble into the stretchy fibers, and then biting down at just the right moment to achieve the perfect crack.
It’s a disgusting habit that takes years to perfect…and I have to admit it…I’d like to kill anyone whose worked that hard to perfect it.
Really.
I actually almost lost a job once because I leapt over my desk at a co-worker who had been cracking her gum for 4 straight hours. No warning…just leapt and went for her throat (her mouth actually to rip out the stupid gum) before another co-worker grabbed me and shook me to my senses.
Which brings me to my last biggest peeve.
Sniffing.
Don’t you think that people who sniff should be shot?
There is no reason for it. We have tissues. We have sleeves (I know it’s disgusting but it’s better than sniffing!). So I have absolutely no tolerance for people who sniff.
Unless they’re at a funeral, in which case they get a sniffing pass.
Or they’re really sick with a raging sinus infection and a temperature of over 103 degrees (no less).
Otherwise…there is no excuse for sniffing.
Or cracking your knuckles or your gum.
Here it is. The post where we talk about all of the things that annoy us, all of the things that make us shudder, the things that that make us silently (usually) judge others…
We all have our “pet peeves”, and I think that a lot of them can be pretty universal. I don’t think I know anyone who loves people who talk on their cell phones in the movie theater.
(OK, maybe you like that (or DO that), but I’m thinking the majority of people out there tend to be annoyed by it.)
And I also think that the things that annoy us can be passed down from our parents. At least that’s the case for me.
(I’m not saying that it’s genetic, but I wouldn’t be surprised if my loathing for the sound of people chewing or swallowing is programmed into my DNA.)
I grew up with parents who shared their opinions. For my beautiful, loving mother, that meant we couldn’t get away with ANYTHING that annoyed her.
If we popped our gum or cracked our knuckles, we got a DEATH STARE (every mom has one), and I learned very early on that you don’t want the DEATH STARE.
So I quickly figured out how to avoid it, and soon those things became annoying to me, too.
So I’m betting that most of the things on her list are also on mine.
But in particular:
I can’t stand noises like nose sniffing or throat clearing.
I hate (HATE) hypocritical people.
Snobbery drives me crazy.
And one that’s manifested recently for me is people who share inane, pointless information on social networks. Sure, I’ve been known to do it myself, but in the last couple of months I’ve become increasingly ticked off by it. The truth is that I don’t care what you ate for breakfast or who you ate that breakfast with. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve had to severely limit my time online because it was affecting my happiness (and probably my blood pressure)…
Speaking of pet peeves related to social networks: the other thing that annoys me to no end (and I know I’m not the only one), are status updates that are purposefully vague and that beg the question “WHAT HAPPENED???” For the love of the Facebook gods, people, stop leaving status updates that say “In the ER…” or “My life is over” or “My heart is broken because the man I’ve loved for 13 years did this to me…” JUST STOP IT. I know that the ability to share these things (and evoke sympathy) is tempting, but either be explicit (as in “I’m in the ER but it’s because I got a pencil stuck in my ear again, so no big deal”) or keep it off of the internet.
(Ahem.)
I would apologize for the rant, but let’s face it, pet peeves do that to us. My mom’s stare didn’t happen without passion and fury and all of the pain that the sound of cracking knuckles brings up for her.
Pet peeves make us rant and rave and TYPE IN ALL CAPS and unleash the DEATH STARE…
Passion is good.
And if these stupid, annoying things are what get my blood boiling… well, then I have it pretty damn easy.
Plus, I really, really like typing in all caps…
(PS: If we’re Facebook friends, I’m not talking about your Facebook updates. Your Facebook updates are always awesome and witty and relevant.)
(PPS: Please still be my friend.)
Topic: Were you raised in a strict home? How will/did you raise your own kids?
Cindy Thinks
Ally Thinks
My folks (especially my mom) had some very definite ideas about child rearing. When my brother and I were young, there was a certain formality to the way things were done; how we were supposed to act; when we woke/ate/went to bed; and even how we were dressed – that was typical of the times. Not surprisingly…our dad worked long hours in important jobs (of course), and mom ruled the home (and was the primary disciplinarian).
The “strict” nature of it all came in the form of discipline and manners. My mom was a no nonsense woman when it came to her children behaving properly. We were NEVER allowed to talk back, or (God Forbid) utter the word “No” to our parents…EVER.
Of course I tried it…once, and ended up with a mouth full of soapy water. YUK.
From that point on, the threat of “don’t you say that – or use that tone – to me or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap and water” (lips pierced and wagging her finger at me) took on a true and ominous tone to which I would quickly back down (no matter what).
There were a few “spankings” along the way (until I got too big to fit across my mom’s lap and we both realized how silly the whole thing was) and more than a few banishings to my room. But nothing much more in terms of actual “punishments.”
The worst was when my mom would get so mad at us that she would send us to our rooms and go to the kitchen and begin emptying the dishes (or pots) from the cabinets and begin washing them all by hand, while yelling at the top of her lungs (to nobody in particular) about how wrong/stupid/rotten we were on that particular occasion.
When the ranting began…we knew we had crossed the line.
As we got older, rules began to be placed on our comings and goings, and I started to feel the strict boundaries that my folks would place around me until I left for college. You know…the regular things like curfews, restrictions on sleepovers, and the differences in “school day” activities vs. “weekend” activities.
The hardest was the curfew. I HATED having to be home by 11:00 p.m. (on weekends!) all through high school, but I think I hated the “rationale” for the curfew more than the actual time I had to be home.
“Mom…why can’t I just stay out to midnight like everyone else!?!”
“Because I want to go to sleep at 11:00 and I can’t go to bed unless you’re home.”
“Sure you can…I don’t care if you’re up when I get home.”
“I CARE” “So you’ll be home at 11:00.” “PERIOD.”
REALLY???? Can parents really get away with that?
You bet. I did. (More on that later)
I too was a stickler for discipline and manners (I am my mother’s daughter) as I wanted my kids to be polite and well behaved…mostly so that we could all go anywhere or do anything together without me having to worry whether or not the kids would act out (and because that’s how I was raised).
Oh they had their moments of bickering and snitty tones and slacking off around the house.
But I swear…they were amazingly good kids.
And sometimes I think it might have been despite my parenting.
I yelled a lot, especially when they were young.
I took the whole ranting thing I grew up with and raised it to an art form. And I regret having yelled at them so much.
Because I think I scared them.
But as my kids aged…I think I figured out how to parent with a modicum of strictness (and yelling) mixed in with a healthy dose of humor and love.
But I still think I was pretty strict (mean).
They had curfews ‘til 11:00 on weekends too. OK…Ally had it all through high school but I’m pretty sure we relaxed the rules when AJ got there (and I’m sure that inconsistency and lack of fairness will come back to bite me again and again…)
But I don’t think it ruined them.
They’re really wonderful people.
I’ve never been grounded. (Really.) But I don’t think that’s because my parents were especially lenient on anything – it was because I never did anything worthy of strict punishment.
I just chose to spend an incredible amount of time in my room. I didn’t go out. I didn’t run around after hours. I didn’t lie.
And this didn’t happen because my parents were incredibly strict, either.
I was just a really, really good kid.
(I have sources to back me up on this.)
The truth is, I never had the desire to push their buttons or take advantage.
(Well, I didn’t really have a desire to actively push their buttons. Like, I never took the car without asking or climbed out of the window in the middle of the night. I’m sure I annoyed the hell out of them with the tantrums or typical teenage talking-back and bitching about things…)
I think that I would describe my parents as “laid back”.
They were our friends, but also clearly Mom and Dad.
They yelled sometimes, but I don’t look back on any of my childhood and think, damn, there was a lot of yelling. I think yelling is just a part of every family. And compared to other families I knew/know? Our yelling was extremely tame.
They were never afraid to say “no”, but they chose to say “yes” a lot of the time. And I think that’s the important part: saying “no” isn’t a bad thing. Saying “no” is necessary, especially when a kid is young. I see kids who have zero respect for their folks, and I can’t help but think that it has something to do with how much their parents let them get away with, especially when they’re young.
(I’m not saying to go all Tiger Mom on kids, either, but I think that there’s a balance.)
(My parents were pros at finding that balance.)
I had the normal rules that all kids have. No making a mess in public, no talking back (I actually did break that rule a lot), manners, curfews…
If I ever had royally screwed up or pushed some boundaries or broken a single rule, then I assume my parents would have punished me in a traditional way (no TV, extra chores…). Nothing too severe, but I doubt they would have let me off the hook.
When it came down to it, I just never, ever wanted to disappoint them. I don’t know if that’s something that’s just a part of me – as a person – or if they ingrained that in me from the beginning.
(Maybe they hypnotized me as an infant or something…)
Either way, I’m very happy with how my parents raised me.
(I’m not just saying that.)
If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to raise my own kids in a similar manner.
I want to be friends with my kids, but I also don’t want to let them walk all over me. I know it’s not easy to pull off, but – lucky me – I’ve got some great teachers.
(Seriously, I’m not just saying that.)
(Or, you know, maybe I just got so traumatized that I’ve blocked a bunch of horrible things out… I guess that’s always a possibility.)