It's Wabbit Season!

Let the games begin. As a gardener, nothing gives you more pleasure than waking up, looking out the window, surveying your yard and thinking about how the back-breaking, joint-swelling pain you endured from weeding, planting, and digging was all worth it. Seedlings start  to sprout, flowers begin to bloom, vines begin to creep. Your winter-ugly yard has been transformed into an oasis.

Then, as you stand there with a big self-satisfying grin on your face, it happens. You spot a rabbit dining on your garden. For me, the reaction usually consists of banging on the window, flinging the door wall open, running out onto the patio in my pajamas, screaming at what the neighbors, I'm sure, perceive to be nothing, clapping my hands, waving my arms furiously in the air, and spewing all kinds of expletives and shooing noises at the wind. I've never, ever been a proponent of guns, but I must tell you that rabbits drive me right to the edge of wanting  to own a big one. It's always this time of year I start to relate to Glenn Close's character in Fatal Attraction.

It's funny how creative we get in trying to dissuade these cute, yet pain-in-the-ass critters. Fences, fake owls, and sprays that smell like rotten eggs or contain wolf urine or something so abstract you don't even want to know what it is that's dripping on you. One year, my Aunt Mary had read that human hair keeps rabbits at bay. Having had her own rabbit issues, she came home with a bag of hair from her hair salon lady. I'm quite certain that as she spread it around the base of her flowers in her front yard, her elderly neighbors thought she was performing some kind of black magic, voodoo ritual and quietly closed their blinds afraid that she might see them watching her and then cast some sort of evil spell on them.

The backyard at our former house consisted of a wood deck and a yard with a privacy fence. Unfortunately, I may as well have put up a sign that said "rabbit breeding grounds and all the free flowers you can destroy." Rabbits love nothing more than a deck which they can crawl under to procreate, and then a fenced in yard which keeps predators at bay. You'd think, "well, you have a privacy fence, how do they get in there in the first place?" Let me tell you, I've seen rabbits convert their bodies into jello in which their skeletal structure seems to dissolve right before my very eyes as I watch them slither under the fence or in between an opening that only a nickel could fit through. 

One summer, I had a baby rabbit take up residence under the deck, which was only inches away from my impatiens around the maple tree. I observed his routine from the kitchen window. Sneak out from the deck....munch, munch, munch....sneak back under the deck. Aaaaahhhh "life is good" he thought.

At first, I thought I would try to corral it into an area where it could leave the yard. Please...what a joke. I was such an amateur back then. I couldn't even touch the door wall to step out onto the deck before it's supersonic ears picked up my vibrations  and disappeared under the deck.  Seriously, it was like an apparition. Here one nanosecond and then just "poof"--gone.

Eventually, I decided to trap it and remove it from the yard. Having watched many a cartoon while growing up, I decided to use a laundry basket, a stick, some fishing line, and of course, some lettuce and carrots. I put the bait between the deck and the flowers and then put the laundry basket upside down over the food, of course, one end was propped up with a "Y" shaped stick. Then, fishing line was attached to the stick and I ran it up to the kitchen window through the screening, and voila! You have a rabbit trap. Then, I waited. It didn't take long, and oh my goodness, for the first time ever I started to understand the thrill of why Ed went deer hunting. As I watched this little critter work his way closer to the "snacks" my heart started pounding out of my chest. I found myself saying aloud "Just a little more...closer....closer..." Seriously, I felt like Elmer Fudd. Then, he was under the basket. I quickly pulled on the fishing line and "zing" I had me a rabbit! It was so exhilirating!!!! It was so ridiculously easy, I couldn't even believe it.

The next step, however, was not so ridiculously easy. The plan was to somehow get him out from the under the basket and out of the yard. Hmmmm....this was something I hadn't quite thought about. This little bunny was so freaked out and bouncing off the walls of the laundry basket like a pinball. To lift the basket, stick a gloved hand in there (he was only about the size of a large avocado), and grab him was going to be a challenge.  Let me correct that, an impossible task. Sure enough, he escaped. So, I quickly improvised my trap and put the bait on some screening so that the next time I caught him, all I had to do was gather the screening up around the basket. Great inventions require lots of trial and error, you know!

These days, since my yard is wide open to the western edge of Canton, I construct a netting fence around my wildflower garden. Everything else is fair game. I do understand that the rabbits (and deer) were here first, and I try to plant things that they supposedly don't care for, which, realistically is nothing. I have been very fortunate in that the deer do not bother my yard in the summer months. Thank goodness, because I don't think I have laundry basket big enough for that!

Manage Your Pain

As parents, Ed and I have never been ones to coddle the boys. That doesn't mean we aren't affectionate or caring, we just don't give in to crying or complaining.

While the boys were growing up, our philosophy was always that of "manage your pain." Alex was such a "fragile" child, physically, that he would come to us with every little paper cut. My response was usually something like "You think that hurts, trying giving birth to a nine pound, eleven ounce bowling ball! When you can top that, then come back to me." However, I will admit, the time his tooth was ripped out of his mouth after getting caught on the basketball net and was flung down the driveway did get my attention. I like to think that our philosophy on pain management was what helped Alex overcome his doubts of playing high school football, along with seeing his buddies survive it freshman year. The daily bumps and bruises he came home with this last year almost caused my eyes to pop out of my head, while he barely noticed them. He's come a long way since being a toddler.

Cameron, on the other hand, could have his leg amputated while riding his bike and not even notice it. "Uh...why is there blood gushing from your thigh, Cam?" He would respond "I don't know." But, for as tough as he was physically, his feelings could be crushed in an instant if you looked at him sideways. Go figure.

We quickly learned that kids take their cues from their parents. So, if you're going to be freaking out about every little thing, so will they. If  you're going to be afraid of experiencing life, so will they. Thus, daily events at our house were regularly met with comments like "you know, people are dying of brain tumors today...deal with it."

Sick days from school and trips to the pediatrician were far and few between. We learned that so many of life's ailments could be solved with a little practicality. You have a stomache...eat less junk and go to the bathroom more. You have a headache, drink some water and get some food in your stomach. You've got a boo-boo, get a band aid.  You're tired, go to bed. I don't need a doctor to tell me "It's just a virus...take some ibuprofen...be practical....it just needs to run it's course....that will be $50 please!"

The boys learned that stomachaches or headaches weren't going to cut it. Unless they had a gaping wound or a very high fever, they knew better than to even bring it up. On the occasions the boys have stayed home from school sick, I do try to make them feel special because I know they have earned it.

This might include some type of meal in bed (food in the bedroom is a major no-no in our household) like soup or ice cream.   Renting movies, snuggling in my bed to watch TV, or sleeping the whole day is usually how they are spent.

Over the weekend, Cameron developed a bug. He mentioned he had a headache and had a bit of a cough start yesterday morning. I took his temperature and he did a have a fever of 101. So, we gave him some ibuprofen, instructed him on drinking lots of water, and getting some rest (after he worked on his homework, of course). Late last night, before bedtime, I decided to take his temp again after performing the ritual "forehead check" on him. Hmmm...you do feel kinda warm. The thermometer read 103.2! "Holy crap" I thought to myself. "I'm going to go talk to dad...I'll be right back. Here, have some water." 

I headed out to the family room and announced "Cameron has a fever of 103, do you think we should call the doctor's office?" Alex screamed "103! You want me to call Oakwood (urgent care)?"   Ed and I decided to call the pediatrician's office and speak to the nurse on call. I suppose the swine flu uproar, was cause for a little concern. Not much, but a little. Cameron said someone in his class that he sits next to was out of school for four days. 

As we suspected, a temperature of 103 is really not too much cause for concern. The nurse said this was a good temperature for fighting an infection. Cameron did seem to be somewhat okay (snacking on Skittles was one of my first clues). He was not bedridden all day, although he had complained of chill. Him wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt while out in the sun during the gorgeous weather we were experiencing did make me stop and wonder if he was okay.  (Now that I think about it, he probably was suffering from heat stroke last night.) He wasn't unresponsive throughout the day  and his mood wasn't too different from normal. After seeing he had a temperature of 103, however, I was surprised he wasn't a little more lethargic. During the winter season, I had a fever of 101 and felt so achey. My limbs felt like dead weight. Of course, they kind of felt like that after a week of weeding, planting, and yard work, so who am I to judge?

Anyway, the nurse recommended we continue our regimen of fluids and ibuprofen and keep an eye on his fever. If it were to go a degree higher, then we should be concerned. After we spoke with the nurse, the pampering began promptly with Alex being instructed to bring up a popsicle for his ailing brother to eat on Ed's side of the bed while watching TV. Nothing feels better than your parents waiting on you, unless it's your older brother dropping what he's in the middle of, climbing a flight of stairs and waiting on you.

This morning the fever is down and Cameron is catching up on his sleep. Of course, after he wakes and has his breakfast in bed, he'll be getting to work on that language arts project that is due in a couple of weeks.

Time to Move On

Each season is a welcomed change in Michigan, especially spring.  It brings color back to the landscape after a long, dreary winter. Grass grows, flowers bloom, birds return, and hope is renewed. But, like any other season, it can also be bittersweet. I had realized this in the past, however over the weekend it was brought to my attention when I awoke to a raided blue bird box right outside my kitchen window.

For years I have observed when the robins, bluebirds, tree swallows, or even ducks, take up residence in my yard. For me, it's a thrill to see nature at work up close and personal. Each bird and their partner have their own unique way of nesting, protecting their homestead, and raising their young. Each year I feel like a foster mother. From the moment I see the initial signs of a bird scoping out the real estate market, to the clumps of grass and mud molded into a nest, to the first sight of the newborns. I get emotionally attached and feel protective. 

I know that survival of the fittest is how the natural world is supposed to work, and I have gotten better, but it still breaks my heart to see a mother bird return to her empty nest in the wake of a home invasion.

When I looked out my window on Saturday morning, I noticed right away that something was askew with the blue bird box. Nesting material was pulled out through the entrance, and neither parent was nowhere to be seen. I went outside to look around and found more nesting material on the ground, but no sign of baby birds. I gently tapped on the box to be sure the mother wasn't inside and then slowly opened the door. Sure enough, the nest was in disarray and the eggs were gone, however, there was one baby remaining in the box and he was still alive. I did my best to return the nest to its original state and then placed the baby back into it and closed the box, hoping the parents would return. Later on they did, and they even went inside. I thought that maybe they would be able to continue caring for this one, but it was not meant to be.

There have been several occasions where the nesting process has been successful, and when I see the babies leave the nest on their own, albeit in little bits and spurts, I feel that something wonderful, no matter how natural and common, has been accomplished.

Later on over the weekend, I realized that the young birds leaving the nest this season will have more meaning to me than ever. Alex will be turning 18 within a couple of weeks, high school graduation is near, and changes are on the horizon. Prom was this weekend and it hit me that life, as we know it now, is coming to an end. Not that that's a bad thing, it's just different and will take some adjustment.

I'm excited, proud, and sad all at the same time. I'm excited that he will be experiencing new challenges in his life, proud that he has grown into such a caring and responsible man, and sad that he's moving on, even though that's what we want for him. Although, I can honestly say  I understand that changes in life happen for a reason and that reason is because it is time for them to happen. He is ready. I may not feel ready, but I'm getting there because I know it's what I must do.

Perhaps because the weather has been so cold and lousy is the reason I didn't even realize that the end of May is upon us, which means Memorial Day weekend is arriving, which means that Alex's birthday is near as well as the end of school. I do have a calendar and I do know how to read it, but for some reason it just hasn't registered. I'm hoping that a warm up this week will jump start me into reality. Then, I can start preparing for the second brood the birds will produce and raise in June.  

Speaking of second broods, Cameron is having mixed emotions about Alex's departure for college as well. He's excited that he will be able to move in to Alex's room with his own attached bathroom, however, he realizes that he will become the sole focus of our attention come September.  He's not sure it's worth the trade off.  I, however, am. I know that once I get past the initial changes, life will be good again.

Dreaming of Stanley (Cup, That Is)

This photo pretty much sums up what I looked like last Thursday, during game 4 of the Red Wings' quest for the cup in Anaheim. These west coast series are killing me! 

Ed made a valiant attempt to watch both games on Tuesday and Thursday of last week, which both started at 10:00 or 10:30 p.m. On Tuesday, I saw maybe the first 15 minutes, and on Thursday I woke up and watched the last 15 minutes.

I really am a Red Wings fan and wanted to watch the game, but by the end of the week, I'm toast. Hard to believe in my younger days I would go to the bar on a Thursday night until at least after midnight (I'm sure) and then get up for work the next day. When you're younger, Thursday morning practically is the weekend, so going out to the bar that night is not a stretch. When you're older, Thursday morning is the middle of the week and you wouldn't dream of going to the bar that night because you'd miss watching "The Office" with your kids.  Also, the weekend doesn't officially start until boys get home from school on Friday and the husband gets home from work.  Then, and only then, you might celebrate it by  staying up until 11:30 to see the news. Woo, hoo....crazy times!

Anyway, as I drifted into my third REM cycle Thursday night, I heard Ed yell something in excitement. It jolted me awake to ask the usual middle-of-the night questions "what's wrong...what is it?" He apologized and admitted that he got a little overzealous as the Wings scored a goal.  "Oh goody" I dreamed "the Wings scored a goal".....snore, snore....drool, drool...dumb smile on my face.

I think at that point the score was 2 to 1 or something low like that. I just remember thinking that there hadn't been any blowouts in the series as of yet and goals were hard to come by for either team. Later on, I rolled over again and Ed was asleep. Since I am seriously near sighted, I can't see squat without my glasses, unless squat is perhaps only inches from face. (Ed loves it when I look to see what time it is and have to put my face on top of the alarm clock to get a clear reading.) Anyway, since the game was still going on, and Ed was asleep, the quickest way for me to learn what was happening was to wake him up and ask him what the score was. Fiddling for my glasses in my nightstand drawer was going to take too much time. So...nudge, nudge, nudge..."Ed, wake up.  What's the score?"  He opened his eyes (I think, I couldn't really see if he did or not) and said "5 to 2." I thought he was hallucinating and screamed "5 to 2! Who's winning?!" I think he had to declare it was the Red Wings a couple of times before it registered in my mind. You'll recall, this was kind of a must-win game for the Wings, being down 2 to 1 in the series.  The last time I woke up, goals were scarce. Then, the next time I wake up there's a score-fest going on during a snore-fest.

Well of course I tried to go back to sleep, but my adrenaline rush was going on and I had to go to the trouble to put  my glasses on to watch the final minutes of the game. By then it almost 1:00 a.m.

One last game in Los Angeles this week. Of course we hope the Wings can wrap it up and not have to play a game seven back in Detroit. I'm praying that our next series will not involve a team west of Chicago. Some of us need our beauty sleep, you know.

The Journey

A couple of weeks ago, Ed and I went went to the premiere of an educational video on esophageal cancer and Barrett's Esophagus. Our friend, Jeff Stemberger, was the subject of the documentary which was produced by St. Joseph Mercy Health in conjunction with Jeff's family.

The purpose of the video is to tell Jeff's story regarding his battle with esophageal cancer, create awareness, increase prevention efforts, educate the public about the symptoms and treatments available, and to teach people how to reduce their chances of developing this deadly cancer. It is entitled "Tell Everyone My Story" The Journey of Jeff Stemberger.

According to the National Cancer Institute, in 2008, over 16,000 people in the United States were diagnosed with esophageal cancer and over 14,000 lost their battle. Simply put, it is the fastest growing cancer in America.

Some of the risk factors include just being male. Men are three times more likely to develop this cancer than women. Smoking, heavy drinking, diet and obesity all play a role in developing this cancer as well. It can also be hereditary. For Jeff, his risk factor came in the form of acid reflux. A symptom of reflux is heartburn. 

When I received the invitation in the mail about a month ago, I was excited to finally see the first step of Jeff's vision come to fruition. When I arrived at the premiere, I took my seat in the auditorium, listened to some opening comments, and then thought about what a great day this was. It was not a day to be sad at the passing of Jeff, but rather a day to be happy about this being the beginning of a new chapter for his family and St. Joseph Mercy Health as well. I thought, I can do this...and then as it progressed, I fell apart.

Seeing his family speak on camera spoke volumes to me. Seeing his caretakers talk about his attitude and strength made me feel proud to have known him. Seeing his coworkers talk about his personality and perseverance, made me wish I had spent more time with him and his family, outside of chit chatting at our sons' baseball games or crossing paths at school open houses. Of course, I thought there would be more time. What's the rush? We have lots of baseball games to watch and school events to attend. We always think we have more time.

In addition to information on the St. Joseph Mercy Health website, Jeff's company, Datanational, is in the process of developing a website on his behalf. When it is up and running, I will post the link for you to learn more about him, his foundation, esophageal cancer, and what you can do. The goal is to make people as aware of this cancer as they are with breast cancer, prostate cancer, ovarian cancer, lung cancer, and so on. The goal is to create a movement and encourage people to get the proper screening, support research efforts, and in the end save lives. The goal, even in these hard times, is to raise money for this cause. I've talked about the "power of one" before and even the power of one dollar can make a difference. The power of sharing this video and information with one person could make a huge difference. We all know someone we joke about that keeps a bottle of Tums on their desk and pops them like candy. Sadly, however, this could be a symptom just screaming at them to see a doctor. 

In the meantime, you can view Jeff's documentary at the following link on St. Joe's home page at http://www.sjmercyhealth.org/default.cfm. Near the top right underneath "Videos" click on "Jeff Stemberger Journey". Once the black screen comes up, you can click on play to start viewing the video as it downloads. 

I promise you, you will be moved and you will learn something new and you will learn something important. You may even save a life.

You Have What? That's Disgusting!

If you ever feel the need to spend a few minutes being grossed out and wonder what it might feel like to suffer from all types of dreaded conditions, head to your local pharmacy. On Friday, I went to Meijer's to drop off a prescription for my dad and decided to wait the 10 or 15 minutes they told me it would take to fill it. Not wanting to stray too far into the store (because I can easily get distracted when killing time in a store) I decided to stay right in the pharmacy and cosmetics department.

As I perused the aisles, looking for another item I needed to pick up, I found myself growing increasingly repulsed at the products available to treat a myriad of maladies. First I came upon "gel pads for cushioning." They weren't labeled as to what they would "cushion" but I assumed it must be something on your foot.  Then, next to them was something called "mole foam padding" which was for corns and calluses.  I'm not even sure if it was also for moles or not, it didn't specify. A little farther down the way, my eye caught a box which read in big bold letters "Boil Ease" which was for pain relief from boils. "Eeeewwwwww, that's disgusting" I said aloud. I'm not even sure what a boil is, but it sounds like it could explode at any moment.  Further down the aisle I came across creams for cracked, dry feet, "Itch-X" for intense itching (where, I'm not sure and I don't want to know), ointments and bandages for wound care, stuff for bloating, anti-diarrhea and anti-gas. "Oh my God" I thought. "I need to go kill time somewhere else, because this is killing me."

Boy, I bet some pharmacists have seen it all and could write a book about the customers they've encountered. Can you imagine the products they've sold for who-knows-what condition? It's a wonder they don't serve you wearing latex gloves and a swine-flu mask to avoid catching whatever it is you have--jock itch, lice, warts, poison ivy, hemorrhoids or god forbid, boils (whatever they are).

I'm sure they've heard it all too. Every time I get a Valtrex prescription filled for a cold sore, I can't tell you how much I want to blurt out "It's for a cold sore. See, right here on my lip? I don't have genital herpes!" But, I'm sure they'd only say "Sure, lady....whatever you say." 

Such a position of trust. What a window to the world they have to look through. People buying products for such personal and intimate problems. I bet they know more secrets than some people's shrinks, priests or bartenders. And, having knowledge of all the medications an entire family is on--allergies, anxieties, infections--you wonder if they're thinking "Holy crap, that family's got issues."

Yes, I've been to the pharmacy numerous times and when you are in need of something, they're fabulous! But when you have nothing better to do than roam the aisles just for the heck of it because you're waiting for something, it can be a frightening trip.  Soon, I made my way over to lip glosses and mascaras where all fears of boils and bunions were replaced with fears of dry lips and skimpy lashes.