Normal

We are trying to be normal. My day consists of waking to the smiling face of Little Joe with his beaming eyes, so glad to see me, and as usual, starving. Then, after a quick feed, I put the dogs out and make sure the front door is open. If I have enough time, I bake some cinnamon rolls or bisquits before the other kids show up. They are: Eli, Jacob, Kayleigh, Cole, and two little girls that live down the street. They aren't there for long, they gobble whatever I have fixed for them, catch the bus, and when they are settled on the bus and I am waving like a lunatic, (I want them to know that I will miss them), I take the baby and hopefully give him to Martin to play with so that I can make Martin's breakfast. If not, I prop him on the kitchen table in a bouncer and act like an idiot entertaining him so that I can get stuff done. Acting like an idiot includes dancing to whatever is on the radio, making funny faces, talking baby talk and in general, doing whatever we nana's do to make our infant grandchildren happy. While cooking grits and toast, usually eggs (but not so much anymore) and pouring milk, I am thinking about all the other stuff I have to do. When Martin's food is done, I bang on a cast iron frying pan with a metal spoon to get his attention, as it is easier than walking all the way to the back of the house to get him, especially if I have to haul the 19 pound bundle of love with me. As I sit and eat with Martin, the dishes are glaring at me, the washer reminds me that there is a pile of clothes to do and the dogs are frantically jumping at the back door to be let in. Those dogs can wait! By now, Little Joe is ready to play. He is a good baby, but after all, he is a baby and so, we play. We play while I load the dishwasher, and while I am loading the washing machine. Because I am still in the kitchen doing these things, he is still in his bouncer watching me. Usually the phone is ringing off the hook, Becky checking on Little Joe, Sissy with info on the boys schedule, someone wanting to sell me something, and on and on. Guess what? It is barely 8am by now. I take Little Joe to the bedroom and put his "tummy time" mat on the bed, and settle him on it. Martin is usually doing a breathing treatment, so good Nana that I am, I settle on the bed with the baby so that he won't roll off. I love tummy time, because I can relax for a while and watch whatever Martin has deemed important on TV. Unfortunately, that is usually Jerry Springer or some other stupid show that wants us to know who the Baby Daddy is, or whatever. You would think a well educated man like Martin (oh what the heck, who is the Baby Daddy?) After about 30 minutes, little eyelids began to droop, (mine too!) and I take Little Joe to the rocking chair to rock him to sleep. It doesn't take long. Soon he is cherubic in his sleepy time, and I put him in the crib, mentally figuring how long I have before he wakes up. Now, I can sweep, dry the clothes, unload the dishwasher, check my email, and if I am very lucky, grap a cat nap, all the time listening for Little Joe. Once I am prone on my bed, my mind begans to race. Thoughts of Christmas gifts, dinner, what kind of a snack will the kids want, are the missionaries coming for dinner, and other things that are pending. I try to slow my mind down, and about the time I succeed, Martin asks me if I have made and appointment, checked the bank account, called the workers comp office, spoken to the other doctor, called in his prescription and on and on. I patiently smile and say, "yes, no but I will, I tried yesterday and had to leave a message, the doctor wasn't in, and the prescription is ready. Finally, I can doze, and before I know it, I hear Little Joe informing me that it is time for a bottle. I feed him, change him, tickle him and give him to Martin. (He is too little to care who the baby daddy is anyway). Now, it is time to help get Martin of to work. Before I know it, bottle time again, and diaper changing time again. (Sometimes the whole morning is taken with doctor's appointments) I glance at the clock and it is 2:00 pm. Shoot! The bus will be here in about an hour and a half. Plenty of time to get ready for the kids, fold the laundry, think about supper, put the dogs out again and try to do some sewing or crocheting. At 3:25 I step outside and wait for the bus. Little Joe and I sit in the yard swing waiting, and soon, there they are, exploding off the bus, full of energy and joy and starving. I set out snacks, oversee the homework and listen to the day's news. Little Joe is getting hungry again. Eli is such a help, he keeps an eye on the others while I feed the baby and settle him down. Before I know it, the Mothers are arriving and the house is quiet. Oh, but wait! I have to feed the dogs. They will let me know if I am late with that! FINALLY! Alone time. Maybe. Now is the time when the family wants to catch up on the day, or the phone is ringing or whatever. Before I know it, Martin is on the phone, telling me he is on his way home. It is usually 10:pm by now.

Now, you may wonder why I have outlined my day for you. I have done so, because, I want things to continue as they are. I want to continue normally, in spite of the difficulties we face. One of my little one's mama asked if I will continue to put the kids on the bus, and that's I when I realized the importance of being normal. I told her, "yes indeed, things will go on as usual. We must be normal, or things will fall apart." What a blessing to have normality when nothing is ever going to be the same again. Those precious little faces that depend on me keep me going and make me realize how blessed I am. They give me life. I need them to cope with this situation, and indeed, if anything makes me panic, it is that I could not have them to greet each day, morning and afternoon. How awful it would be to have a whole day to think of nothing but the illness we face and the possibility of loss in the future. I don't have time for that, because, things will continue to be "normal" for me.

By the way, Martin went to work today. He said he is not going to sit around with nothing to do but think- I had a fit, but I can see his point. He doesn't do much but sit around at work, and if it will help him with this, so be it. Of course I called him hourly to see how he was doing- Poor baby, he had to have a baked potato with chopped chicken for dinner, no butter or sour cream, and just a touch of cheese. He would normally have had a burger or chicken or whatever I had sent with him, but now, we have to be dilligent. He told me he wanted to go to the Whataburger, and I said "okay, Just wave at them as you DRIVE BY!"

Each day is hard, as I am so afraid that he will have a heart attack that he cannot recover from. That is stupid thinking, and certainly from the adversary, so I put my mind on the positive instead. We will continue to be normal, especially at this wonderful time of year. I will certainly cherish each day with my Hunny, they are so very precious to me.