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4:57 p.m. - May 15, 2006
Guest Columnist - LIZ!
Note - this is from Liz, and it's the second one of the day. You can navigate to the earlier one below, if you care about my drivel.

Recently Smed wrote an entry entitled “Marching Orders”. A few of his readers asked if I actually wrote it. No, I didn’t. But I thought it was time that I shared a column with you myself. So here is a column from Liz:

As you have heard from Smed’s previous columns, my mom has been ill. In addition to treating her current condition, her doctor has told my sisters that it “looks like the beginning of a slide to the end of her life” and “you may want to consult hospice”.

Being a naturally controlling person, when I first heard this, I wanted to yell, “Define looks like! Exactly how long is this slide? What will she encounter on this slide? What will we encounter on this slide?” Explain to me again why she isn’t sick enough to warrant a hospital stay at this time! If my mother is dying I want answers! Damn it, no matter what I want answers!!!”

Okay, I was a bit stressed. Instead of yelling, I bought two plane tickets so our eleven month old and I could visit my mother now. I was polite to everyone involved and left a detailed note for Smed on how to take care of his own daughter for four days along with my cell phone number which he has memorized, Katie’s health insurance card, and several emergency numbers.

I spent most of Mother’s Day traveling back from Arizona, thankful for the gift of having spent a wonderful visit there in spite of the fact that my mother was not able to get out of bed. I gazed at my beautiful baby daughter who was not born yet on Mother’s Day of 2005 and thanked God that we were both able to visit my mom now, regardless of what happens later.

Then I returned home. I called Smed from the plane to let him know that we were “wheels down” and would see him soon. After I got off of the plane carrying my infant, her car seat, and a giant diaper bag that weighed at least 25 pounds, Kristin and I decided that we needed to make a rest stop before we got to security. At a point when I had no hand free to grab the cell phone from my diaper bag, Smed tried to call me and became worried that we were “lost” between the airplane and the security gate. A couple minutes later I called him and he yelled at me about how worried he was that we were “lost”. Apparently four days of break-free parenting had been enough.

I met Smed and Katie by the security gate. Katie had a big grin on her face as she ran past the security gate to meet me. She also had more tangles in her hair than I have ever seen. Scott waved from behind the security gate and then gave me a hug and a kiss when the girls and I were in “legal territory” again. It was wonderful to be home.

A few notes about Smed and Katie’s long weekend together:

Apparently they ate an entire Boston cream pie which they made from a mix. I know this because Smed called me to ask “if we had a cake pan”. After several minutes of describing exactly what pan he should take out of the cupboard that he opens regularly because it also contains the pizza pan, he asked, “Oh, you mean the cinnamon roll pan is also a cake pan?”

Editor’s Note - We did not eat it ALL! Just 2/3 of it!

They made brownies for me which Katie discussed in great detail all of the way home, pointing out 57 times that she had not eaten any of the brownies yet because they were for me for Mother’s Day. The first thing we did when we came into the house was to each have a brownie.

Later that evening when I was talking to Nurse Niece on the phone about my ill mother, my ill mother in law, and detailed plans involving magically fitting three children and their car seats into the back of my Honda Accord so I could alleviate an upcoming family transportation and scheduling glitch, Smed chose that moment to wave a 12 pound cat with a plastic medical item sticking out of its ear in my face. He started describing the procedure which Butch had done to his ear. Smed is not spelled p-a-t-i-e-n-c-e.

When I shampooed and conditioned Katie’s hair that night, I asked her if Daddy had combed it while I was gone. “Not really” was her response. Apparently my daughter paraded around central Indiana going to pre-school, the children’s museum, dance class, a birthday party, church, and the airport without combed hair. She also had a ball doing it. Somehow I couldn’t help but be reminded of the scene from The Sound of Music where the children are all climbing trees wearing clothes made from drapes and having a wonderful time. Not that I am the evil Baroness in this movie. I’m just a mom who is adept with a comb.

I hope that next year things are a bit calmer and my mother is still with us. But this year I had a wonderful Mother’s Day. Thanks for allowing me a guest column on Smed’s Corner.

 

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