My Hero My Brother

Patrick is nearly six years younger than I am. When he was born I used to cart him around like a baby doll. He was MY BABY. When he was just a few weeks old he had to be admitted to the hospital with an infection. I thought it was my entire fault. I was too little to see him at the hospital and cried for him. When he was two he didn't speak yet because as they soon found out he couldn't hear. Thank goodness it was easily corrected with a seat of PE tubes. He was a pest at times but so sweet. Anytime he wanted something he would come and find me to help him get it. He had a baby Kermit and a pink care bear that he slept with. I would tease him at times to the point of tears -- good thing he loved me. When he was 9 he crashed his bike and split his nose to the bone -- I was babysitting the neighbor kids and he came for me to fix it. I remembered how he begged me not to tell mom. I remember looking at him and saying "Buddy you are going to need like 100 stitches to fix this". In reality he only needed 72. When I married Charles he was mad -- I was going away and he had to wear a tux!
Somehow time kept moving and soon he was driving and would come to our little house in Magna with his friends -- spelling things with my fridge magnets. Then the day came for him to be sworn into the Army. My little brother, with the brown soft fuzzy hair when he was born was going away to boot camp. It was like pictures of his life flashed before my eyes in the minutes of the ceremony. I cried because I was so proud of him. Putting him on the plane broke my heart. Here was my lil brother who was so tender with my special needs girls going off to be a man.
Time kept moving on and before we knew it the day was 11 September 2001. As I sat watching Good Morning America, doing the girls' hair before school watching planes crash into the towers. I remember thinking of Patrick and wondering where he would go and what would happen. I'll never forget the innocence in Sabrina's voice as she said "Don't worry Momma Uncle Patrick is in the Army and he'll protect us". Little did she know how many times he would go to the Middle East?
He was already and Army Ranger but wanted to learn and do more. Patrick learned how to fly Blackhawk helicopters and later Kiowa’s. He was a busy guy hanging out in the "sandbox" but always found the time to talk when I called or answer my facebook posts. He loves his nieces and nephews and isn't afraid to show it.
Patrick is home again and in love with two people. Patricia and her daughter Kira. They soon will be leaving for Alabama for 3 more months of flight school and have decided to marry before they go. On Monday I'm lucky to be one of their witnesses as they get married at the county building.
Patrick, you will always be my lil brother and I love you. Patricia and Kira welcome to the family -- you've made Patrick so happy. I love you all.

Post Note : The wedding didn't happen as the flu came calling - soon though very soon :)

Prom

I never thought I'd be the mother of a daughter who went to prom. With our girls special needs I didn't think it would happen. That changed a few days ago. Sabrina was invited to prom! Talk about one happy, excited 17 year old girl. In the small town she lives in everyone who wants to go to the prom is asked. The boys coaches find out which girls have not been asked and then assist in finding senior boys to take the girls. Sabrina's date also happens to be her home teacher so he is familiar with her.

Momma Sue found her a beautiful hot pink dress. Ashley did her nails. Heather, Tricia and Ashley did her hair. She looked beautiful! Who am I kidding she is beautiful.

All of the traditional prom activities happened -- they went to St. George in the afternoon to climb a rock wall. They had dinner at the Olive Garden. Sabrina danced, laughed and hung out with three other couples. She was home at the strike of midnight -- just like Cinderella.

I have tears in my eyes as I type -- Being the mother of 5 special needs daughters I really never thought this would happen. There are so many things that they miss out on. Because of the kindness of the coaches, some decent young men and youth advisors a dream came true not only for Sabrina but for me.

Down But Not Out

I believe I'm pretty much invinsable -- I can weather almost any type of storm in my life and still hit the ground running. That was until pneumonia came to rest in my right lung last Saturday. By Sunday evening I knew I was in trouble and headed to my local Instacare.



The Instacare staff was kind and quick. Two very unusal qualities for an urgent care on a Sunday evening. After a quick exam, xray, and a brief chat with doctor of the results -- right middle lobe pneumonia. I was out the door with a prescription for some pricey antibiotics at the all night pharmacy. I figured I'd be fine -- usually I rally pretty quickly when I'm ill. That was not the case this time.

Monday I went to work after sleeping until 930 -- I don't have to be to work until 1030 so I made it on time. Charles had to deliver a load in the morning and then was going to work on our taxes. When I left work late at 7:30 Charles called and asked what was for dinner -- I could have smacked him. Part of me wanted to scream "HELLO open up a %$#@ can of soup and heat it up!". Instead I picked up pizza. When I got home I threw it on the table and went to bed. Tuesday was pretty much the same as Monday only I had something ready in the crock pot. Wednesday it was a mistake to go to work -- I couldn't talk my poor coworkers endured having me there. I kept saying I was fine and did not want to go home because Charles was still doing the taxes. I'd rather be anywhere but at home during tax week.

My sweet boss Traci kept asking if I was sure I didn't want to go home. Teri was kind enought to pick me up since Charles had to take Jon to an event at his school and had the car. I walked in the door, into our room to find that the taxes were everywhere on our bed. Zachary is still sleeping in our room (more on the evils of co sleeping at a later date) so next to our bed is a crib matress on the floor. All I wanted to do was sleep -- I had a fever, a worse cough and felt dizzy. I pulled on my warm jammies because by now I was freezing and laid down. Buddy cuddled up next to me and we were out. Charles work me up later to a clean side of the bed and I went back to sleep.

Thursday I called in dead to work. Traci was glad that I had come to my senses that I was sick. I had an appt with Reid in the afternoon and even tried to get in early. Sydney's home care nurse thought that I might have pneumonitis or pneumosistis pneumonia from being on the oral chemo and having a weekend immune system. All I could think was there is no way in heck that I am getting admitted to the hospital. Not again! I had another chest xray, more antibiotics, magic cough syrup and instructions not to take my chemo (opps), stay in bed, and do nothing.

I saw Reid again on Monday and I will see him on Thursday. I feel a ton better but am really tired. My cough is still here -- I sound like I'm a smoker. Maybe I'll get done with the antibiotics and feel great!

My Garden Plans

Those of you who know me fairly well know that I do not garden. Anything I plant dies. My dad will look at my yard in pictures I send of the kids outside and he'll beg for me not to tell anyone that he is a farmer.

This spring I have decided to correct my short comings. Jonathan and I planted seeds three weeks ago. Believe it or not the came up! They are big enough that this weekend we need to transplant them into larger pots. I also bought a few more seeds, potting soil, and more magic growing pellets. The next step will be creating a raised bed in the backyard for all of my little plants to grow in.

No, I'm not sure that they will survive -- or even prosper. However, the kids and I are going to give it a try.

Home Sick

Have you ever been homesick? It sounds kind of silly I've lived in Utah for most of my life -- but if you were to ask me where I'm from I'll reply "Indian Head" or "Saskatchewan". I'm from this little tiny town of about 1,500 people. I can close my eyes and see the streets -- before the four way stop with the blinky light was put in.

When I was small I walked all over town -- without shoes, my big toes were always stubbed and bleeding. My Nana Price lived three or so blocks from my Granny Price and I would make my way there alone the summer I was 3. Everyone knew me and to me they were all my adopted Grandma/pa's or Aunts and Uncles. I didn't know what a stranger was.

There is a tiny 12 bed hospital that I was born and later that my Granny and Grandpa Price died in. The nursing home is down the street from my Granny and Grandpa Price's house where my Nana spent her last year. There is a huge cemetery where several generations of both sides of my family are buried. There are two tiny grocery stores, a bakery, bank, credit union, and a couple of small restaurants along with the Co-op.

Things move at a different pace there -- you have time to check in on your neighbor, sit in the yard, and go to the hockey game. There doesn't seem to be the rush of being here and there --

For part of our honeymoon (September 1993) Charles and I went to Indian Head -- My grandparents knew we were there before we made it the six blocks from the highway to their street -- Someone saw a strange car with Utah plates and phoned them. Granny and Grandpa greeted us in the drive. They hugged us so tight -- Oh how I love and miss them. We spent five days there between the Price home and my Dad and Grandma Dixon's farm. We went to the city and I introduced Charles to some of the foods that had sounded so strange to him. There was even a small open house for us. People who had known me as a baby and small child brought us gifts to remind us of my roots -- A wheat wedding knot, Hudson Bay wool blankets, Canadian pottery with farm scenes, a cookbook from the local Catholic Parish -- What I remember most is the feeling of love and good wishes.

Most people work in Regina -- the "big city". My co-workers snicker at the name "Regina" -- more than once someone has choked when I explain that Regina is the provincial capital. Others like my dad still farm-- very few family farms are still alive. Large commercial outfits buy or rent farm land. Fifteen years ago the Dixon family was one of the last original settlers to still own and work their land that was deeded from Queen Victoria.

I don't know that I could live in a place like Indian Head -- the closest McDonalds is 40 miles away along with the Costco, Wal-Mart and all of the other places I find necessary to live my life. There is an LDS branch on the Reserve (here we would call it an Indian Reservation) 15 miles away. The last time I was there it was just a 1970's single wide trailer converted for Sacrament services -- so different from being here in Utah with our large buildings.

I haven't been home since December 2000. My Granny and Grandpa Price have passed away, as has Grandma Dixon and Uncle Henry. My Dad only knows my boys from pictures and phone calls. Sydney was just a baby when we were there last. Dad out on the farm, Auntie Janice lives in Indian Head, Auntie Heather in Qu'Appelle, with a few cousins here and there. I can't forget my Auntie Roberta or Cousin Cathy. These are the people who have helped make me who I am. One thing I do know for sure is that this summer I need to go home. It is time to reconnect with my roots.