Elisa's Journal

First Grandbaby!

2008-06-01T19:21:18Z

It's all I can do to keep from running away to Canada with this beautiful angel, my first grandchild, Arleen Avery Medhus-Watts. She was born May 30th at 1:31 PM, weighs 6 pounds 7 ounces and is 18 inches long. She looks like both parents, gorgeous of course. Michelle handled everything like a trooper, especially considering it's her first baby. Anyway, enough talk. See the proof in pictures below!

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Mall Outings: a Contact Sport?

2008-04-30T17:00:38Z

At the risk of revealing myself as a freak of nature, I admit, I hate...no, wait, I DESPISE shopping. I've been this way since birth when I first flinched at the doctor fanning himself with the bill for his services, but it's gotten a lot worse for many reasons. Like those marathon back-to-school shopping sessions with my mother who, bless her, had to clothe four little girls in something other than burlap or broiler foil. The waiting, the fighting, the threats of decade long punishments all took their toll. Having kids of my own sealed the deal. Sequential and relentless gimmes can wear a person down like a Makita industrial belt sander. Should be a New UN sanctioned form of torture. Unfortunately, my kids, especially my 13 year-old daughter, hold my disgust for shopping over my head with," Why can't you be like the other moms and go shopping with me?" and "You never like to do the things I like to do!" (Exits, stage left, Stomps to room, slams door.) Obviously she forgot our recent shopping spree at Charming Charlie's where a tiny basket of "cheap" costume jewelry can break a bank account. Obviously, she forgot about our trip to the nail salon where I treated her to a mani-pedi (just learned that whole terminology, aren't you proud?) Obviously, she forgot how intimidating a trip to the mall can be. And we're not talking about the infamous Galleria here in Houston, which so happens to be WAY outside my comfortable one-square mile driving area. We're talking about Memorial City Mall, just a couple of minutes from my front door. Just finding someone who speaks English is a challenge. There are probably more foreign immigrants per square inch there than in Ellis Island in the 1900s. Plus, you have to coordinate your shopping perfectly. If you get a couple of carts full at Target first and want to go to Abercrombie next, you can't wheel the Target carts out into the mall. At a certain point, the chart won't budge. I think they have that mutant Magneto buried under the flooring there. So you have to save Target for last or load your car with the Target purchases and drive to the other side of the mall for the rest of the shopping. Walking past kiosks can be a little tricky. Pushy salespeople (yes, all foreigners) thrust slices of soap in your face, ask to see your nails, try to squirt lotions on your hands and nosily inquire about your cell phone plan. But no worries, because I've devised a plan to circumvent their attack. First, put a determined look on your face and walk with hurried yet confident steps that say, "Piss off, peon, I'm important." Never, and I mean NEVER make eye contact, because that's just an invitation to seep into your personal space and latch on like fungus on a week-old slice of bread. Every once in a while, look at your watch because this tells them, "Back off, Jack. I'm late for the G-5 Summit." This only backfires when you look at your bare wrist, which I've done. If you don't wear a watch, fake a heated conversation on your cell phone about the benefits of sealed borders and deportation. Hmm. maybe this whole strategy will work when you come home after work only to find the kids are lined up at the door with every conceivable inconvenient or expensive request.

Spring Break a Love-Hate Thing

2008-03-25T15:59:06Z

As always, we went to see relatives in Norway for Spring Break. We have a chalet way up in the Tundra above Hol, Norway. We're talking WAY off the grid. Quiet, relaxing and cold as hell. As nice a time as we had, it wasn't without some jinxes. First of all, Kristina's boss informed her at the last minute that she wouldn't be able to take the time off. One paid ticket wasted. Next, during the flight over, I lost my palm pilot-my life, my central headquarters without which all the universe comes to a screeching halt. To make matters worse, when we landed in Oslo, our luggage wasn't there. Apparently all four bags decided to party it up on the Champs Elysees rather than huddle in the sub-zero belly of an aluminum behemoth. Hmm, very weird. So I've gotta tell ya, hanging around among the moose in the tundra is loads of fun in short sleeves and funky 5 day-old underwear. I was expecting the Norwegian Health Board to place a moratorium on contact within 30 km of our chalet, but we got lucky, ha. On day 5, our luggage finally arrived. So we actually got to wear warm, clean clothes for the last 4 days of the trip. On the first leg back, my wedding ring slipped off my finger and down god knows how many rows. All the hands and knees searching was for nothing, because it was nowhere to be found. The flight attendants told us they wouldn't be able to make an announcement for the passengers to look around the floor under their seats and basically blew us off, despite our wide-eyed stars of despair and panic. We never found it. Last but not least, when we got home to Houston, our bags were not there...again! That slow turn of an empty baggage carousel became a sickeningly familiar sight. That said, I've had enough traveling for a while. I'll post some pictures on my facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=17703&id=768318069

That Difficult Age

2008-03-05T15:28:29Z

I know what you guys are thinking: toddlers. The terrible twos. Potty training. Defiance. Putting scrambled eggs in the VCR. Oh, I wish your troubles disappear after that, but I'd be blowing smoke. Eighteen, that magical age when our kids are adults but have year to grow a brain and think that we don't have one. They slip into this psychotic delusion that they can do what they want because of their adult status: smoke, stay out late on school nights, go off on road trips, neglect their chores, etc. What's a parent to do beside pull out their hair and contemplate shoving them into the nearest recycling bin? Got just the answer for them. The old adage our parents used on us that we, the age of permissive, democratic parenting, cringe at. To get to the point, as long as their being sheltered, fed and clothed, they have to follow your rules. If they balk, let them go to school on roller skates to school. Better yet, let them pay for their own education. Throw their dirty laundry on the front porch so they can wash them in the nearest river when they're finished loitering for hours at the nearest Starbucks. Make them pay for room and board or nail an eviction notice on their bedroom door. GET A FRIGGING JOB AND MOVE OUT! The real world is chock full of rules. That's reality. Whether it's the workplace, relationships, or laws, we're all governed by rules, fair or not. The freedom of adulthood comes with a price. That said, you gotta tell your newly psychotic 10 year olds that if it's too hot, get the hell out of the kitchen. See how that works, but don't let them know who told you or I'll haunt you forever. Really.

Encouraging Compassion

2008-02-11T18:02:35Z

Ever wonder why kids grow up thinking they're the center of the Universe and you are just one of the background props meant to spring into action at their beck and call? Well you ain't alone people. I mean, sure, my kids say their pleases and thank-yous, but should that be all I should expect? Am I the eternal, loony optimists that wants them to occasionally ask me how my day went, offer to bring me an ice cold tea, massage my feet and feed me grapes? Okay, scratch the last too, but really! So I'm trying a little experiment to make them more aware of how they treat others. Sorta hoping they become more other-directed. I'm hanging a big-ass piece of butcher paper on one of the doors. Then I'm assigning a colored marker to each kid. (They don't get to choose because, even as teenagers, they'll do a throw-down for their favorite color.) Then, whenever they pay a compliment, make a nice offer, or do something thoughtful to another family member, they write it on the paper with their marker. Oh, and they can't do the same thing to the same person each time, otherwise I'll be asked how my day went thirteen thousand times a day. And it has to be a mix of words and actions. It'll be clear at the family meetings whose color is sparse and whose is not. This way, they'll be more aware of how they treat others and see that, when they do, their lives are better for it. Not to mention the promise of some reward for the family when the butcher paper is full. Hmm, maybe I should set a font size limit too??

Christmas Cards

2007-12-21T17:24:36Z

I don't completely get the whole Christmas card tradition. It's gotten to be more of a compulsion based on shame more than anything else. First of all, how many of them do you read and think, "OMG, how awesome is this artistic masterpiece! I'm saving it forever in my special box of treasures." Yeah, I didn't think so. Hell, I don't even recognize some of the people's names on hte return address! Even when the card has a picture, it's like, "nope, haven't a clue." Then there are the pangs of guilt when you throw them away, so I have 213 of them on my mantel for a few weeks. Trying to get them to stand up is a booger. One falls and it's the hole house of cards stunt. I always enjoy the cards that are letters bringing me up to date on the family gossip, but the two-pagers describing everything from the new dishwasher they bought and Johnny's 12 year-old molars finally coming in are tedious. Christmas is way to busy for me to read a letter that will be published in paperback soon. Those photo Christmas cards are cool, but I don't like it when the photo is of the kids only. I'm like, "Are these the kids I sponsor from Children International?" "Are they orphans dropping a hint?" "Did their parents flee from home? They look like little devil." But those pets-only pictures are the worse. I picture the sender dying at the age of 95 in a room with 5,000 cats, some of who are nibbling at fingers and toes. My biggest fear is sending a Merry Christmas card to non-Christians but I don't keep tabs of my friends' religion and I'm not about to buy Happy Hanukkah, Happy Jihad, Happy Hinduism, Happy Buddha, Happy Winter Solstice and Happy Kwanzaa cards too. I say we scrap the whole thing. You can always given them a Christmas Superpoke on their Facebook page.

Flu Season

2007-12-17T14:50:56Z

The holiday season is stressful enough, the last thing we want is a sick kid with a high fever and no energy or appetite to enjoy it. What few of us know is that viruses, particularly the influenza virus, rolls into high gear and kicks major ass when the ambient temperatures drop to around 40 degrees or so. Sure, contagion spreads when we're all inside huddled together against the wintry elements sharing spit and finger grime as lovingly as we can, but the virus has to get juiced before it travels anywhere. I bring this up because last night, Lukas (my 15 year-old) was studying World Geography with a friend when the temperatures dropped to below 40--but sans jacket. He had a short sleeve summer shirt and flip flops on. Of course we reassure ourselves with the old "he's part Norwegian so he's part polar bear" adage but he still had the sniffles this morning. So make sure your kiddos (and you) bundle up when it's cold!

Medhus Family News

2007-10-31T18:04:41Z

Okay, so there's usually no shortage of news in our family. Usually news that involves chaos, conflagrations, and catastrophes (like my alliteration?) But this tidbit of news made my jaw go slack and my heart screech to a (temporary) halt. My 21-year old daughter and her fianc� are having their first child...my grandbaby. I'm scared for her because I can hardly see her living in the real world without my constant direction and support, but then I'm also excited. My last two desktop wallpapers have been her ultrasound photos at 5 weeks and then 6 weeks. I worry constantly that she doesn't eat enough because she's stick thin, but my fears were realized with just one glance in her refrigerator. It was echoing-down-a-deep-well empty. Cobweb empty. Lonely empty. I heard crickets chirruping around a lone pack of Sweet 'n Low shrouded in a blanket of dust. So, like a woman with a momentous purpose, I sped to Kroger�s, bought $300 bucks worth of health foods and loaded her Honda with the goods for her to take home. Naturally we don't know whether the baby will be a boy or a girl, but Michelle hopes it's a boy. She lives in fear that she'll give birth to someone that is as wild and gray-hair-inducing as she was. Let's hope Karma doesn't rear its ugly head. I guess that's a mom's ultimate revenge...for their child to grow up to parent a difficult child of their own. Whatever she ends up with, I look forward to spoiling it rotten and, at the end of the day, handing it back to Michelle with a smug look that reads "ha, good luck with that, sucka."

Pet Peeves

2007-10-17T16:16:43Z

Please tell me it's not just my kids who do these things. Why the hell do they cut open packages and leave the package tops in the drawer with the scissors? Why do they fail to load their dirty dishes in the sink, thinking some obsessive compulsive dish fairy is going to swoop down and do that job for them? And that anal little fairy is getting pissed because there have been a flurry of oatmeal encrusted bowls which require him/her to bring out his magical jack hammer. Why do they take their stinky sneakers off in the middle of the foyer or den when they come home from school rather than put them away where they belong? Don't they understand kharma? They could trip over those shoes, fracture both tibias in 37 different places so that they don't need shoes in the first place. Why do they leave the milk out instead of putting it back in the fridge? They never do that with soft drinks and gatorade. Why do kids (and husbands) use the "soaking technique" when it's their turn to wash the dinner dishes? Don't they know how transparent they are? It doesn't take a genius to see this ploy as a desperate hope or a game of chicken which will lead to (who else) me doing them at 11:30 at night. (Actually, that would be me in a perfect world, but June Cleaver I ain't. They can soak until the designs wear off or the cows come home, which ever comes first.) Placate my frustration. Send me your own personal peeves.

Tennis

2007-10-05T18:53:05Z

Venus and Serena, look out! I've started playing tennis again after recovering from tennis elbow surgery and all I can say is...wow. I'm hitting better than I ever have in my life! And no, the doctor didn't implant some super-bionic device to ensure smokers and aces. Hell, I'd save that procedure for my brain, not an appendage! I think...no, I KNOW my improvement is a result of the Interactive Metronome sessions I've done. My inner timer is so precise, I'm waiting any minute (or millisecond) for a call from those nice folks at Greenwich asking me to be the timing standard for their atomic clock. So if you want your game, whatever it is, to reach the next level, try a 15 session course of IM. But if you do, don't challenge me to a game. My baseline was probably a lot worse than yours.

Hope for the Stressed and the Old

2007-09-26T15:01:15Z

There is new hope for those of any age in the stressed out club as well as the old geezer club. Sadly, I'm a card-carrying member of both. 7-keto-DHEA, folks. It's the form of DHEA that doesn't convert to testosterone or estrogen. It has all the benefits without making us women into drag queens with acne in our beards and giving men size 46-A breasts and a swish in their walk. 7-keto-DHEA is the active metabolite however, so it has all the benefits of regular DHEA: It strengthens immunity, lifts moods, raises endurance and energy levels, improves skin quality and tone, raises lean muscle to fat ratio, lowers harmfully high cortisol levels, combats the inflammatory response at the root of Alzheimers, arthritis, strokes and heart disease, improves memory and cognition, strengthens bones, ameliorates menopausal symptoms, reverses gingivitis, improves the overall sense of well-being, among other things. If it could just take out the trash and mop the floors it'd be perfect.

So why do we feel crappy when we age? DHEA levels decline once we hit the ripe old age of 25 and cortisol levels (implicated in many of the old-age ailments) begin to rise. This same thing occurs when you have a great deal of stress, even in childhood. That's why extreme stress seems to age some: the skin turns wrinkled, hair turns grey, etc. The last thing you want, however, is a cortisol level that is higher than the DHEA level. You want the DHEA to cortisol ratio at around 25 to 1. I recommend anyone over 25 check both hormones and supplement with 7-keto-DHEA accordingly, then recheck these levels in three months. If they looks good, check them annually thereafter. Same thing applies to those under 25. One of my children who has had a lot of stress in the past had a very low DHEA level. 7-keto-DHEA has made all the difference. She's happier, stronger, and has tons of energy. I take it and the difference in just three days is impressive. Plus, I've already gone down a size or two. Try it and then tell me your success stories.

Performance Anxiety? No Worries!

2007-09-07T15:04:14Z

Ever wonder if you could improve your child's academic performance without taking him/her to a tutor after school 365 days a year, spending the entire college fund in the process? Are you or is your child an athlete who wishes to excel at a sport? Well hang on to your hats, folks, because I have first hand experience with something that works--Interactive Metronome. It's a computer program that uses a hand trigger and foot switch to perfect the body's inner timing. It does so by synchronizing three important senses for learning, remembering, planning, organizing, and moving your body in 3-D space. These include the vestibular, visual and auditory senses. In 14 different exercises, you try to hit the trigger and/or foot switch within milliseconds of a reference tone which sounds like a cow bell. Visual and auditory cues guide you by indicating whether you're very early or late, slightly early or late, or right on. This usually takes only 15 sessions. Some of the exercises work on upper extremities, some on lower extremities, some on the right side, some on the left side, some bilateral and some crossing midline. For instance, one involves hitting the right hand trigger and tapping the left toe on the foot switch. This "cross integration" helps build nerve fibers in the corpus callosum which is the conduit allowing the left and right hemispheres to communicate with one another. When this conduit is strong, thinking is easier and you feel like yo're in the zone. In fact, athletes report that when they're finished with IM, they feel "in the zone" all the time. The results are phenomenal. Students generally improve reading skills by 2.5 grade levels and math by 1.9 grade levels. Motor planning, high level cognitive, organizational and focusing skills improve, auditory and visual processing gets better, as does gross motor skills and , yep, behavior too. And when all three senses are in synchrony, dendrites (nerve connections in the brain) proliferate like crazy. As for the athlete, the only difference between Beckham and someone else the same age, size and knowledge is inner timing. Beckham's is perfect. It's all about timing. On a personal level, my 14 year old son actually wants to read. He comes when I call him to do something. He's happier and more organized. My seventeen year old has better eye contact, social skills, handwriting, and behavior. His mood is great all the time. My 12 year old daughter just made A team in volleyball. Even though she's like midget size her serve is kick ass! Please realize we haven't even finished all 15 sessions yet! But we'll see how they all do as the school year progresses. I understand that these new skills stick as they've rechecked patients 2 and 5 years after completion of the 15 sessions. In summary, I recommend it for all students, (especially those with ADHD or LD,) for autistics, for athletes, for those suffering from depression, for klutzes (like me,) and for seniors who want to avoid dementia and frailty. Hell, I recommend it for everyone--especially the Houston 'Stros. If anyone of you knows an Astro, tell them to give me a holler. We'll kick ass next season! Anyway, decide for yourself. Visit www.interactive metronome.com and check out the research, particularly the big golf study and the St. Thomas Equinas High School study.

But I don't want a sandwich...

2007-08-31T14:32:13Z

Well I'm officially part of the sandwich generation, meaning I've lost my appetite permanently. My kids are still, well, kids, but my mother is suffering from dementia. I won't go into the complex medical issues but basically her mind is suffering from years of an elevated calcium from hyperparathyroidism. The parathyroid glands, located underneath the thyroid, control calcium/phosphorus metabolism and too much calcium is neurotoxic. For weeks, she refused to go to the hospital. It took a broken ankle to get her there. Her ankle and the hyperparathyroidism was surgically cured, but the cognitive effects of the hypercalcemia may take three months to reverse. The bad news is that she may have Alzheimers underneath it all, but hopefully not. We don't know how long she's had the disease, but looking back at her old records, her doctor neglected the3 elevated serum calciums for at least two years. Kinda slipped under the radar. Anyway, my 87 year-old dad and I have been at the hospital every day (minus two mental holidays off) bathing her, urging her to eat, brushing her hair and teeth, and disimpacting her at times. (Oh, you might not know what that last one is and you're probably better off enjoying that blissful ignorance. If you're the curious type and you haven't just eaten breakfast, it'll be safe to read on: Fecal dismpaction is the procedure of digging out the poop that has stubbornly impacted itself in the rectum. High calcium levels cause constipation so you can imagine what can accumulate over a few years. I basically had to mine her rectum with my spelunker's helmet, a feces-proof flashlight, and a big stick to beat off any wild animals that crawl out to attack me.) She does seem to get better, but sometimes she thinks she's at the mall. The other day, she kept asking anyone who came into her room if they were there to fill up her car with gas. She called to tell me she was butt naked in a gas station waiting for her Mercedes to finish getting detailed. Before that, when she was at her worst, she was seeing little men in the corner with peacocks and cocktails on their heads. She warned me that soon there'd be bodies floating in the street, reeking of rotting flesh, then she'd have me check the toilet for floating bodies. It'd be entertaining if it weren't alittle sad. Of course, if she does have Alzheimers, I'll have to be aware of signs in my own future. I'm batty enough as it is now. These past several months have been a physical, emotional and mental drain on my dad and I. As a new card-carrying member of the sandwich generation, I started out a robust meatball sub with melted mozzarella and have turned into a moldy egg salad sandwich with wilted lettuce and soggy tomatoes. Pray for my mom's full recovery. We'll know in a couple more months if she'll get all or part of her brain back. If anyone has any advice, I'm all ears.

Guinea Pig Farm

2007-06-18T17:08:36Z

Well, we have a couple of new family members in our household. (We have such a huge deficit in dander, droppings, and drool.) Lukas solved all this when he bought two guinea pigs with his graduation money. His evil plan is to breed them and sell the offspring. When the pet store lady warned him that breeding guinea pigs is very tricky and that you have to know what you're doing, Lukas replied with eyes the size of cup saucers, "You mean they don't know how to do it themselves?" Anyway, they're cute and cuddly, but they make freaky alien like sounds. Plus the "D D D" titer is up to snuff.

Big news: Michelle is engaged....again!! This time it might be for real. Shane is really nice, has a job, and has a right to live with his mom since he's just 18. They can't get married until Michelle has a career and her own health insurance, but I think they might just tough it out! Michelle Watts. Hmmm, has a nice ring!

Vegas Get-a-Way

2007-06-13T15:40:50Z

So much chaos has invaded our family in the last few months that I swooped up three of my kids: Kristina, Lukas and Annika, and took them to a Las Vegas escape. Erik went with Pappa to motorcycle track day at Barber in Birmingham, Alabama where, according to Erik, most of the girls are blessed with a hot babe gene. This totally quashes my theory that inbreeding always leads to genetic mayhem producing circus freaks and weird looking banjo players. Anyway, back to Vegas. I had a limo pick us up from the house and drive us to the airport. During that 40-minute ride, it was sometimes hard to enjoy the moment, because Lukas was scrunching himself in between Kristina and me to play with the switches for the privacy panel, the TV's. the lights, and the moon roof. I�m certain that car�s electronics will never be the same. After a short flight, another (less opulent) limo drove us to our hotel, the Venetian. When we entered, we were totally wowed. The painted ceiling and walls, the gaudy fixtures, the glitz, the pampering all made us feel much richer than we are. Almost like Paris Hilton out on bail.

While in Vegas we did everything but gamble. (Actually, in the Las Vegas airport while waiting for our flight home, Kristina risked 5 bucks (mine, of course) and made a whopping $3.75!) We took a gondola ride with Rocko, a funny Italian guy with a wonderful voice. Every time he sang, he�d insert kitty meowing wherever he forgot the lyrics. We also went to the shark reef exhibit and touched stingrays. We visited Roy and Siegfried�s Secret Garden with its white tigers and 2 day-old baby dolphin. So cute! We also went to two Cirque du Soleil performances: O and Love. Love was by far the biggest hit and thrilled more than just our resident Beatles fan, Lukas. O was a slight disappointment because they cut out the big fireballs exploding out of the windows, damn lawyers. Lukas and Annika rode the rollercoaster on top of New York New York like a million times. We all saw the pirates fight at Treasure Island and the volcano eruption in front of the Mirage. Inside the Mirage, we say the lion exhibit. We stood in a clear Plexiglas tunnel directly under two lionesses and watched them lazily swat at a ball tossed by the trainer. The size of their rawhide chewies was enormous. Just thankful it wasn�t one of our arms or legs. One of my favorite nighttime experiences was watching the Bellagio fountains dance in rhythm to various songs. That�s worth the trip right there. Despite Lukas�s annoying protests, we also (window) shopped in the Forum Shops at Caesar's Palace and dined in one of its �outdoor� restaurants under a fabulous ceiling with its changing sky. We checked out (and scoffed at) most of the other hotels, shopped in the Coca Cola and M and M stores, ordered room service, swam in the hotel pool, jumped on our beds and had pillow fights. We also went through Madame Tussaud�s wax museum where Kristina and I both dressed in wedding gowns and got married to George Clooney, that two-timing bastard. Hey, Antonio Banderas wasn�t there so what could I do? I can't remember what else we did but we must have walked over 10 miles a day. Our legs and feet are all worn to nubs and screaming for mercy. In all, it was a well-deserved respite that we'll need a vacation to recover from. The bills are starting to show up, though, so Rune is not a happy camper, but screw that! I'd do it again in a Las Vegas minute!

Lukas was hilarious the whole trip. For some reason, he was the only one to notice the thousands upon thousands of business card size ads for strip clubs. Images of monstrous boobs were scattered on sidewalks, stuck in light posts and thrust in our faces by seedy looking characters. It was enough to trigger nightmares (or sweet dreams) in all flat-chested women, plastic surgeons and teenage boys. Lukas also constantly clung to either me or Kristina and hammered us with questions that were often unanswerable like �what would it feel like to not exist?� or �if the past and future and present were happening at the same time, could you come back as a person that's already existed like Thomas Edison?� and �who was the first person to invent a word and what was that word?� and so on. Although most were amazingly creative and thought provoking, you eventually hit an abrupt threshold where you start getting dizzy and confused and stunned and frantic for him to stop. Annika countered our many protests about her poor nutrition with the point that she could always take nutritional supplements--after all, one of her friends has to take iron cuz she's ambidextrous. Hmm. Maybe I need to brush up on my internal medicine knowledge a bit more? So, that was our luxurious Vegas trip. I�m already planning next year�s sequel.