Daily Prompt; Toy Story
What was your favorite plaything as…
Daily Prompt; Toy Story
What was your favorite plaything as…
What was your favorite plaything as a child? Do you see any connection between your life now, and your favorite childhood toy?
Photographers, artists, poets: show us MEMENTo
Every once in a while these prompts are things I have already spoken about on a previous post of my own. This seems to be one of the topics so you may become bored easily and move on. It is alright if you do. Who wants to read the same thing over?
But when I was a kid my favorite pastime was playing with my baby dolls. Chatty Cathy and Baby Thumbelina.
If they cried I picked them up and cuddled them. If they were wet from my magic disappearing milk bottle, I changed their diapers. I bathed them and clothed them. I pushed them in my baby buggy. I talked to them like they were my best friends. I guess in a way at a young age, they were my constant companions.
Now as an adult I care for those who can’t help themselves. I am still feeding them. Changing briefs and holding their hands when they cry. I talk to them through idle chatter as I can’t understand what is being said.
I used to be told when I first entered the medical field that adults slowly revert back to their childhood when they become ill.
I really do believe this. There can be temper tantrums in a grown-up way too. Cussing and trying to hit, pinch or bite can be common. I guess the only big difference between today and when I was nine is I can’t carry these adults like I could my babies.
Everything else is pretty much the same except in bigger sizes.
I Learned Two Things Today
I learned two things this morning. They could change my life if I follow the rules. My life could…
I learned two things this morning. They could change my life if I follow the rules. My life could be less stressful if I only chew on a pencil.
All this time I thought I had to take a nap. Or take deep breaths. Maybe take a vacation to Disney World.
I never knew that all I had to do was take one of my stale pencils from my desk and start chewing and biting on it.
Sort of reminds me of school when I was struggling to find an answer. Or when I was nervous I would bite a pencil during testing times.
Of course I would have to give up my blogging. To have the pencil in use I would have to put down my black keyboard. Then on top of that I may become regressed. Because of my Diabetes I have nerve damage in my fingers.
I do a lot of tracking and writing for my job and Al’s Day Program. My fingers always end up numb and sore from writing in black ink only.
I don’t know, I may have to go back to the way I was doing it prior to this new information. Blogging helps heal me. Each word speaks to me and helps me sort things out. Napping is something I enjoy. It takes every clogged thought and tosses it until I wake up.
Also I am getting older and my teeth are not as strong before. Could biting on wood cause me to rot my old teeth? Would I end up having to have dentures?
The other thing I learned is in order to release stress, smile more and live a happier life, I should have more sex.
What in the world is sex? I have been divorced for six years and although there have been a couple of guys pass by I have not had anything serious to brag about. I think if what I have heard in the past with sly jokes is that I probably have spiders living among me.
So now I discover that until I have sex again I may not smile.
Should I go out and stand on the street corner in order to smile again?
Could I tell the arresting officer that I learned to smile and live a happier life by watching a TV program? Would this keep me out of jail?
Well I guess I am out of choices pretty much. I think I will just stick to who I am and be happy with myself.
I will smile because I have been given one more day to do what’s right. I will be thankful for what I have. I will keep waiting and stressing for that special man to appear before my eyes and say, ” Lordy woman, where have you been all my life?”
A Big Thank-you
I want to thank Toni and Lori for sending Al a card. He can’t open them anymore and refuses to…
I want to thank Toni and Lori for sending Al a card. He can’t open them anymore and refuses to break the habit of wearing his glasses at all times, so he can’t read the cards. He has me open them and read them to him and he sits back and smiles. He tells me the same thing every time he gets a card. ” I can’t believe I have all these friends.”
If anyone still wants to send Al a card please email me at; email@example.com for his address.
Al’s Card Update
I have had a few ask about your address and I have sent the required information. Another blogger…
I have had a few ask about our address and I have sent the required information. Another blogger suggested a brilliant idea. Since Al is becoming confused and forgetful, sending a small photo of yourself or who ever is sending the card would be fantastic.
I am going to get a poster board and tack up all the cards and hopefully matching picture/photos beside each card.
Get Me Out of the Washing Machine!
Let me out of the washing machine. I am being spun around and washeduntil there is no dirt…
Let me out of the washing machine. I am being spun around and washed until there is no dirt remaining. Can’t you see me in here? I am punching the safety glass, blowing more bubbles through my nose than even the soap has and yet no one rescues me.
Every day someone throws me in another dirty pile of crap. Expecting me to come clean, to know all the answers. Well listen here, I am just a plain Jane gal from the small midwest and I don’t know anymore than you do.
Take me out of the washer and place me in the dryer with some towels that will grow fluffy as they dry. I will bounce around falling gently on each soft piece of cotton. I will lay my head down and let the warmth of each slice of fabric wrap me gently up and cradle me through the timed cycle.
When the buzzer goes off, you have been warned that I am now in perfect, like-new condition once again. Hold me gently. Fold me evenly and lie me carefully on the shelf. Remember my color and please don’t grab for me first. Let me rest for a spell. Let me get my thoughts back together.
Then come for me. I promise I will be at my best. You can pick at my fiber and maybe I will not look you in the face with a dumb blank stare. Maybe I will be useful immediately when you probe me. Maybe I will be the best darn thing you have looked at all day.
This was my morning friends. My brain isn’t even a wake yet and already the phone is ringing. People want answers. People ask about Al. How is his pain, does he need anything? This is great, I couldn’t ask for more. But, can you give me five seconds to wake up? Can you wait until I have had my first cup of coffee or maybe splashed some cold water on my half-closed eyes?
You have to remember that I don’t get as much sleep as I used to. Al has rough nights and sometimes isn’t asleep until wee hours in the morning.
As I had to do a complete bed change on Al’s bed this morning and also change my bedding, fix him breakfast, wash him up, get him dressed, shave, brush his teeth, pick out which car he was taking to Day Program for Show-n-tell, fix his lunch, make sure he had pop money, start the laundry, put new sheets on the beds, answer the phone, answer the cell, I was pooped. I had all this done by 8:30am.
As I left to meet with the Hospice nurse I saw an accident waiting to happen on my way to town. A very elderly man was riding a riding lawn mower. He was mowing close to the edge of a pond. He was also on a slant. He was so darn close to the edge I just had an eerie feeling that the pond would suck him in at any moment.
I actually stopped on the edge of the road and watched him a few minutes and then I prayed for his safety. I met the nurse and she asked me 20 questions. Hospice and two doctors are considering taking more of Al’s medications a way. Letting him ride out his journey in more comfort instead of continuous side-effects.
This is something that I am totally mixed up about. If you take a way his medications what will happen? Will his heart stop? Will his blood pressure soar? Will he be more comfortable? I don’t know the answers, please don’t ask me my thoughts. This is my baby brother and I have been the one all along dragging me feet in the sand.
Don’t put this pressure on me. Ask someone else who isn’t close to him. I am not a coward. I just don’t want to be the one responsible if Al dies earlier than he should. How could I live with that?
I left the meeting and went to the car wash and washed the car. It was so full of bird poo that I am surprised the paint was not starting to chip a way. I stopped at my favorite little shop that sells used consignments and bought Al some Coca Cola post cards, a coca cola battery operated radio, and some coca cola coaster. I can’t wait to give them to him when he comes home.
I collect a few things. One of them being shakers. The old-time giant salt shakers? Yes, those. I found a really old one. The lid was tin and pretty thin, and the shaker was worn itself but the word salt was still clear and the shaker is in that old yellow color. It was a good buy so I got that to add to my shelf.
That was relaxing. Although I was thinking of Al while shopping, wondering if I could find him something, I wasn’t answering questions. I was alone and it was nice.
I stopped at the grocery store and got Al more prune juice and pop. I never want to be without either one of these. My sugar dropped too low while I was in the store so the deli gave me a chicken strip and a little cup of apple salad.
I stood there eating it kicking that stupid Diabetes right in the butt. I hate being a diabetic, I really do. When I am not hungry of I am busy I don’t want to take the time out to eat. But when my legs became jello and black shadows were forming around my eyeballs, I knew I was in trouble.
Thanks to the store I made it safely on my way and now am home. Thank goodness, I have an hour and a half before Al comes home.