No Milk

We finally arrived in Milwaukee at about 7:00 on Friday night, after a long, leg cramping, shoulder tensing, four hour drive in 75 mph traffic. It felt so good to get out of the car and stretch. And carry in our bags. And quickly greet Jonathan, who we hadn’t seen since Christmas.

Of course, he was waiting to go and eat dinner with us …

You see, I had emailed him that morning. “Are you going to have dinner ready for us when we get there tonight or should we stop on the way and grab something to eat?” I asked.

“We don’t have any milk in the house,” he replied. “Maybe we could go out for dinner – a family dinner?”

Family dinner in my family usually means one thing.

Mom and Dad’s treat.

Whether it be my mom and dad taking us out.

Or me and my husband taking our kids out.

It’s just the natural order of things in this family.

Anyway, I don’t really know what not having milk had to do with any of it but our plans were made – and we enjoyed our dinner. And our conversation.

Waking up to a winter snowstorm on Saturday morning put a slight damper on the remainder of our weekend plans. After I looked out the window and saw at least six inches of snow on the car, I decided I didn’t even want to go outside. We cancelled our trip to the big mall, and settled instead on visiting the smaller mall close to Jonathan’s house, so Mickey could check out what it was like to shop in Milwaukee.

I bought vacuum cleaner bags.

And soap.

Because I felt the urge to take care of a few things.

Like vacuuming.

And just a little cleaning.

You see, my Grandma Vera could often be seen with dish rag in hand. I can still hear my mom saying, “Mom, please put that rag down and visit for a while. You don’t need to wipe that off right now.”

But Grandma was happiest with dish rag in hand.

And I was too – this weekend at Jonathan’s. I vacuumed the carpets and then cleaned both bathrooms. I washed the dishes and wiped off the countertops and stove. I swept the floors and shook and washed the bathroom rugs.

I was happiest with dish rag in hand.

Just like my Grandma.

… Oh, and I did buy him some milk.

bap⋅tism [bap-tiz-uh-m] –noun

 

1. a ceremonial immersion in water…

I opened the kitchen door, just back from visiting Mom. Right away I spotted the little snow boots on the rug. Peeking around the corner I saw Kaitlyn, perched on a kitchen chair in front of the sink.

“Hi sweetie! What are you doing at Grandma’s house today?”

Kaitlyn’s face breaks out in a big smile, “I’m washing dishes!”

Grandpa is at the counter, getting ready to put fish sticks in the oven. He smiles at me and says, “Kaitlyn and Chrissy came over today to go sliding, but weren’t ready to leave yet, so they are staying for an hour or so."

I’m thinking – what a bonus – I get to hug my sweeties plus I get my dishes done – all at the same time!

Kaitlyn has dishcloth in hand, washing up a storm. The sink is filled with a couple inches of warm, soapy water and she meticulously scrubs the plates, forks, spoons and cups. I cringe as she picks up a glass – I can just imagine her breaking the glass and cutting her finger. Seeing the distress in my eyes, Grandpa quickly comes to the rescue, trading the glass for a plastic cup.

“Grandpa, this chair is getting really wet,” she remarks, and he gets a towel for her to stand on. “My pants are getting really wet too, Grandpa.”

I look at Grandpa and we both smile, as we continue sopping up water from the chair, floor, and surrounding kitchen countertop.

Chrissy is rinsing and then drying the dishes. A six year old with much more dexterity than her four year old counterpart still complains that Kaitlyn is washing too fast – she can’t keep up rinsing and drying. I notice the cold rinse water and think, while it may not be the recommended method, it is certainly not going to hurt us just this once.

“You’re doing a good job, Chrissy! You must help Mom at home all the time with dishes,” I tell her.

In a whiny, but still forceful voice my strong-willed granddaughter replies, “MY MOM NEVER LETS ME DO DISHES!!!”

(In defense of my daughter-in-law, I can assure you that there is another side to her story…)

Grandpa inspects the dishes as he puts them away, returning a couple bowls to Kaitlyn for a second wash. As quickly as our girls came, they were gone - Mom and Dad returned to pick them up – and the dishes were done and put away.

By now, moonlight is peeking through the window. As I get ready to turn the lights out in the kitchen and head to bed, I notice a glistening spot on the end of the kitchen countertop – under the box of Kleenex.

A puddle of water.

I smile to myself as I get yet another towel and wipe up the water. It appears that my new kitchen got quite a baptism tonight.

What a fitting end to a splendid Sunday.

I'm a VP

VP. More than two letters in the alphabet. They stand for Volunteer Partner and I just finished my training today to become one.

A program which is now being implemented by the Brain Injury Association of Wisconsin (BIAW) is called Supportive Partner-to-Partner Network (SPPN). Its purpose is to provide support to families whose loved one has sustained a brain injury.

We are very fortunate living here where we do, to have access to some great brain injury support groups in our area. I learned today that many areas in Wisconsin (where the population is quite sparse) are not as fortunate. This makes the SPPN Program all the more important.

My role as a Volunteer Partner is to listen, encourage and empower family members to make their own decisions regarding their loved ones. I will work with my Supportive Partner via telephone, with a mutually scheduled time for our conversations.

I learned a lot at my training today – including some interesting facts and figures.

-Did you know that brain injury is the leading cause of death and disability in children and young adults and the leading cause of death until age 44?

-Did you know that 3 million Americans suffer disability from stroke – but 5.3 million Americans suffer disability from traumatic brain injury?

-Did you know that more Americans died as a result of traumatic brain injury between 1981 and 1993 than have been killed in all the wars in our history combined?

-Did you know that a mild brain injury is also known as a concussion? That’s right – even if you don’t lose consciousness you could have sustained a mild brain injury. The symptoms might not appear until much later.

-Did you know that many survivors continue to recover for years? Yes, years – 5, 10 or even 25 years.

Now try this-

Slightly lift your right foot off the floor.

Begin circling that foot clockwise, then at the same time …

Pick up a pen and write your name in cursive.

I don’t know about you, but my foot started circling counter-clockwise when I tried to write my name, and my name did not turn out quite right. This is an example of how difficult it may be for a person with a brain injury to use their motor skills.

Educating the public about brain injury is important. And helping out families whose loved ones have survived a brain injury is critical. I feel lucky to be able to be a part of this very important network and look forward to putting my training to use.

VP. More than just two letters of the alphabet.


Note: All facts and figures quoted are from the BIAW website and SSPN Program Training Manual.

The Rookie

“What does it mean when I turn my computer on and it says I have eleven unread messages?”

“Where do I type in where I want to go?"

“Right here … Like this?”

“Why does this box want to know if I want to win money?”

“Isn’t Hotmail and Facebook the same thing?”

“How do I send this message?”

“How did this stuff get on my screen?”


Diane takes a deep breath …


“Do I ask you how to put a new head gasket in the tractor?”

“Do I ask you how to put the lawn mower belt on?”

“Do I ask you how to change the element in the hot water heater?”

“Do I ask you how to put a new light fixture in the laundry room?”

“Do I ask you how to figure out how many pounds of fertilizer to put on the field?”

“Do I ask you how to filet a fish?”

“Do I ask you how to put new brakes in my Tahoe?”

This is the winter that I rounded up an old laptop for my husband, so he wouldn’t feel like an outcast in the family. On cold winter days he can be found sitting on the sofa, surfing the internet, checking his email, and yes – reading Facebook. The rookie is now officially a Facebook junkie.

I think I’ll write on his wall right now.

Even though we’re both in the same room.