What being a Boulanger means to me.

LOVE NEVER DIES... BOULANGER

I have tried my best to explain what being a Boulanger has meant to me and David just doesn’t understand. He can’t figure out why I can’t/don’t embrace the Christian name like I do the Boulanger name. Boulanger is where I come from. Christian is who I am now. I want so badly to get a tattoo on my foot that says “Love never dies” Then underneath it the name Boulanger. My way of reminding myself of how important it has and is in my life. Getting a tattoo is where my husband apparently “draws the line in the sand”. So, all the crazy stuff I have done doesn’t warrant a threat but marking my OWN body is where I get a divorce?? I wonder to If my desire to get a tattoo is to distract me. I don’t know anything really right now. I know I’m mad at God . Why did I have to be one of the people who doesn’t get to grow old with their parents? My kids know their grandpa and I’m so blessed for that.

When I try to talk with my kids about my Mom and how dynamic she was and that I’m a lot like her they act like I’m trying to teach them about history and some person who didn’t exist. How can I tell your kids about a woman who made me into the Mom I am now? She was the best Mom ever.

I'm going to work in my yard.

Have you ever felt like hiding or running away?? I have hid from my whole family and crawled into the nursery and hid with a blanket when I have been overwhelmed. I have dreamt secretly about driving away. You know how sometimes you read about people who just drive away and don’t look back? I have thought about it myself. I could never bring myself to do it but I have sure thought about it plenty. Raising 4 kids is hard work. Home schooling even harder. Making sure the kids had what they needed education wise was an arduous task but well worth it. My husband going back to school and being stressed out has made me ponder divorce a lot. I have actually told him that it is “Good that we are poor otherwise we would be divorced.” He doesn’t believe in divorce unless of course I get a tattoo. Stupid. But who is the stupid one? You ever dream of running away or is it just me?

Right now I’m sitting in a ferry. I’m headed somewhere in Canada with David. We have already been on a ferry today and it was okay. Then we got to the next ferry and have had to sit around in the car and walk around Port Angeles all day. I’m becoming irritated by all the chatter.

<---The Ferry people

There were people who got out of their cars in the staging area and began chatting each other up. It annoyed me. I mean really annoyed me. They are never going to see each other again and they are practically pulling out their hibachi’s and cooking hot dogs together. I sat in the car playing solitaire on my phone. I thought to myself I could make friends like that too. What is the use tho? One of the strangers ended up trying to sell the other one something. Like a true car salesman. I laughed when I heard the word “sell.” David spent his seven hours having dinner with me, walking around this town and then cleaning out the car. Gotta keep things tidy.

<--BUTCHART GARDENS

I am looking forward to being alone tomorrow when he goes golfing. I will have 5-6 hours alone time. I have not been alone (cept for toilet) since my Dad died. Like I’m being monitored almost. Crazy thing. Sunday was Erica Barcus’ birthday. She turned 20. Her Mom texted her. Her dad called and told her he was sorry but had been too busy to send a card. Not so nice I’m afraid. When did birthdays quit mattering? This poor girl has parents who aren’t parenting her. She deserves more.

I told you I was on vacation right now right? Well, when David was in the planning stages I told him to make all the plans and I would go. He planned it for “US” at a golfing resort. Did I mention I don’t golf? I watch it on TV with him but there is no allure for me. Chasing a ball …. Not so much. Soon as he takes up scrap booking, beading, cross stitching I will take my first golf lesson. I like the hobbies I do. I also like researching stuff on line about dogs. Always starts and ends with dogs for me.

Speaking of dogs my Dad’s dog, GIGI is so sad. She goes and lays under the covers in the room she shared with my Dad. It breaks my heart to see her scratching to get in there. I know she knows he is not here. She smelled him and kissed him goodbye before I let the morticians take him. It was so hard to give my Dad the last kiss I will ever give him and never be able to look into his eyes and know he knows exactly what I’m saying with just my eyes. Who does that? Me and my Dad. We shared the same history, I was “his girl” as a young girl. Went everywhere with him. Had a few bad years with him during teenage years and then nothing but sharing our coffee every morning with creamer and whipped cream?? No one likes coffee like we do. Haven’t perked a pot since he passed. Don’t want whipped cream. This part is going to seem creepy I think but I have slept in his bed for 4 nights. Once I’m in the room I don’t ever want to go out into the main house. Once I’m in the main house I don’t want to walk past his room at all. Wish I could unbuild it. I don’t exactly know what is going on but that is what is happening with me. Maybe I am insane?

I tried to be the best daughter, care giver I know how to be. I still have regrets. I wasn’t with him when he died. He died all alone. I would never want that for anyone to die alone. I sat in the room with my computer blaring music and playing on Face book until 3 AM. I was singing my heart out loud. He didn’t complain. I put the baby monitor right by my head and laid on the couch. I fell asleep and slept until 8 AM. I hadn’t slept in weeks. He had been so antsy. (A week earlier he had fallen out of the bed.) He died without me by his side. I let him down. I will never get over that. I should have been there. I should have been holding his hand, singing, praying instead of sleeping.

My Father died. I'm totally alone now.

RIP

THOMAS GEORGE BOULANGER

MARCH 18, 1937-JULY 16, 2009

OMG I have just survived the most harrowing week of my life. My Daddy died on July 16th.
We knew this time he must really be dying. For the past two years we have been on the “death” watch as each time we left the hospital I was admonished to spend time with him because he was dying after all. Well, two years later and he did it. He died on me. I did not give him my permission. I didn’t want to be an orphan. That is what I am now. I have no parents. I am parent less. No more Father’s Day!! No more laying in bed with him just holding hands and reminiscing. Never again. That is so permanent.

I have no one left in this whole world who loves me unconditionally and that cuts me to the quick. Oh, those around me would say that they love me “unconditionally” but that is a lie. They might mean it, but I know that it isn’t true. I’m 45 I know the harsh realities. My family has all been keeping me busy reorganizing and cleaning and etc. I have cried a lot. But those tears are the ones that are “acceptable” tears. I haven’t had the good cry yet. The soul crying I know it is here it is always brimming up to the surface, bubbling and yet not allowed to be heard or seen. I need to do this in private.

David planned a vacation (during the time my Dad was put on hospice) for this week. He wanted to go to Canada. I didn’t plan to go. I went and did the passport photo’s and never really intending to go. If my Dad was alive I would stay home. He was going to be alive so all the cooperating with my husband was just my ruse. I was pretending to want to go.

My Dad died and now I’m on vacation. Does that make sense to you? My heart is broken and yet I trudge through all the tourist spots in Canada. I cry special tears because my Dad always wanted to come here. We talked about it a lot when I was a kid. He wanted to live here. It is gorgeous here. I feel a bit renewed. I feel sad too because I don't get to go home and tell him all about it. It crushed me one morning when I woke up and my first thought was "I can't wait to tell Dad."

I have been doing A LOT of soul searching this week. I go from guilt to sorrow to anger at my sisters and then back to the deep unending loneliness. I feel as if I have been set a drift. I have taken care of my Dad for over 7 years and just the past 2 years has he been really bed ridden. I could always use my Dad as an excuse for the in-law functions. If I didn’t want to do/be somewhere “MY DAD” worked. I am a hermit at heart. I love being home. I love it more than anything. I wish I never had to leave my home in reality. It might be a sickness but who knows. The only thing that would make me happier being home is if it took visitors to hop into a tractor to reach my home. No cars could go over the terrain. Alas, no tractors are needed.
I can’t remember if I blogged about my Dad’s premonition or not. I find myself thinking about my “home invader” and how I can best protect my family. Was it just my Father’s crazy talk, lack of oxygen or was it a real premonition and why would God warn me through him? Is something worse going to happen?

I can’t do worse. I can barely function in my daily activities. If it weren’t for my dogs I would lie in bed and not get up. My dogs still need to go out, they still need to be let in. I need to watch the Mommy’s and love on their babies. I’m an orphan dontcha know. I’m 45 and an orphan. I could feel sorry for myself if I allow it. Some people suck hard and they are still alive. My Dad was everything rolled into one person. My past. My history. Where I come from.

When my Mom died 22 years ago I was only 21 and didn’t even have any children of my own yet. I knew what her being dead meant. Nothing was to prepare me for my Father’s death. It is different this time. I know how permanent it is now.

My Father lived with me in my house with my family. Everywhere I went he went. My Father was my mentor, my guide, my companion and the best friend I will ever have in my life and now I have lost that. I’m not anchored. I feel like I’m floating. I wonder if this lack of connection is what a midlife crisis feels like. Haven’t had one. Never intended to anyway. I don’t want to seem like I’m not thankful for my kids and my hubby. I love them but now I’m rootless. I have no one backing me up from my past. My heritage, my people. My kids don’t appreciate what it means to be a Boulanger. They don’t appreciate it and aren’t willing to fight for what it stands for. Being a Boulanger means everything to me. I MEAN EVERYTHING. We are a dying breed, the heritage, pride and sense of loyalty is waning. I want it to mean something to my children. My sisters and I know that being a Boulanger means we can get mad at one another, swear them off until they call.

It is displaced loyalty where you know that NO matter what we have each others back. No matter what.

I don’t think I instilled that in my children. It is a feeling in your soul. Rest in Peace Dad. I will never forget you... I promise.

Where am I? Why am I here and why can't I

I don't know how long it has been since I last posted. I reckon if I wasn't so thoroughly exhausted I would look backwards to see. Maybe it is because I don't really care how long it has been. My Dad is declining this time. Every other time we went to the hospital my dad came out of "it" and we were a little bit less mentally, or physically but he came back. This time it feels different to me. The daily reminders of the CNA that comes out to the house to help bathe him makes it real. Everytime I have to call hospice the first thing they say to me is "Your Dad is really sick". I think there must be some special code in my chart that says that they think I'm in denial. I'm not in denial... not really. I just have been told for so long that my Dad was on his last leg and we pull him out. Now his mind is going. It feels weird to me to be giving him morphine when he isn't visibly in pain. They told me that with his severe neuropathy he possibly doesn't feel the chest pain but his agitation stems from the pain and manifests in agitation, restlessness and lack of appetite. I'm scared shitless really. During this whole last hospitalization I have been slowly accepting the inevitable. I feel like maybe if I had put him on a stringent diet he wouldn't be in such bad shape now. He is a grown man and I can't be in charge of what he chose to eat for all the years prior but I enabled him by buying him whatever comfort food he wanted.I will write more when I'm not falling asleep between each thought. I'm beyond tired. I'm thankful fo rthe help I do have

Hospice. Does that mean? Nah. I'm a Boulanger those rules don't apply.

Well how have I been? I have been getting excited for the annual “Boulanger week long beach trip.” Bonne was arriving Friday and we were leaving from Saturday until next Saturday June 20-27th. Oh my God, I need a vacation. No responsiblities, just chilling with my relatives. We have been looking for almost a year for this token souvenir. All getting online together and googling for just the right thing to commemorate this years trip.

God. God has a sense of humor. Yep, funny guy.

Not so good. My dad had a doctors appt the Wednesday before the trip. We got him up and dressed. I was expecting this big, fat office visit to be all kudos’s for my dad because he has been on a diet for 4 months. His blood sugars are good, his triglycerides better than ever.

Everything is absolutely perfect.

Get to the doctors office, get my Dad in his wheel chair and he strokes out. OMG. So, right in front of the office the doctor and his entire staff come out and we have to call an ambulance because my Dad didn’t even have a pulse. I start bawling, I don’t like to include ambulances in my life. When my kids were small I would teach them that when they see an ambulance go by they should say a prayer for where the ambulance was headed because something bad was happening and lives were changing. When the doctor told his staff to call an ambulance I was like “No, we don’t need one, the hospital is just a few blocks away. I can run there faster with his chair than they can get here.” I don’t know what the doctor thought “cept the ambulance was called. Guess he doesn’t have confidence in my astute running styling.

4 days were spent sitting with my dad in a coma in Critical Care again. Now the doctor tells me that my Dad can’t withstand sitting up any more. His heart muscle has so deteriorated that when he sits up his heart cannot send enough blood to his feet as he lacks the volume. If he sits up he will die. Also said my dad “suffered a severe heart attack in the past two months.” I was like, how does that happen, how does a person have a massive heart attack and not know it? Apparently a lot of diabetics who eat poorly ruin the muscles around their heart along with the great gift of neuropathy. My poor dad.

Doctor said my dad was a minute from dying this time. If the ambulance wasn’t so close he would be a goner. The task of bringing him into the doctors was out of the question at this point and not to bring him back. I’m sure he was thinking that having a patient die in front of your office was a turn off. LOL. HE loves my Dad.

Whatever.!! That is a nice way to say that my dad is totally bed ridden. Doctor is great don’t get me wrong, he is awesome but I hate the barrier of bad news. I ask him if we can go home. I had seen enough. Defibrillators going off, bigimminies (bgm’s) and arrhythmia’s alarms going off 24/7 and the fucking flashing lights. They went from orange to red to orange red, orange red. I sat for four days and stared at those lights. Those lights flashing and alarming the worst sound screaming in my ear “Your dad is dying” Look here “Your dad is dying” in case you forgot “Your dad is dying”. I just wanted to go home with my Dad. I already lost a parent (22 years ago) at the hospital. Laid in bed with my Mom until God took her home. Don’t intend that for my Dad. Horrifying was what I would call it. So cold. So impersonal.

Doctor says I can go home as long as I bring hospice along. I’m like,… “I know my dad. I know every square inch of his body, why are you making me bring these strangers into my home to tell me what I already know. Who knows my Dad more than Me? No one. Not a soul.” I asked him “Why??“ He said they are better able to tell him what my dad needs than I am. I reckon I don’t know the right lingo. He said that they know how to make sure my Dad dies without pain and that is their specialty. Now we must dance through the hospice hoops. LoveJoy Hospice is great tho. They are thorough in asking questions so I think that seems like they care. I think surrendering to hospice means that I acknowledge my dad is GOING to die within 6 months. I can’t think that way. Won’t allow it.

The morning after we got to bring him home I told my Dad he had money in the bank and didn’t have to be on a diet any more because like Why? Why be on a diet when you are on your way out? I’d be like.. I want candy, chips and ice cream for every meal. Oops… I already do that. Ugh. Anyway to get to the point I was telling him he could pick any restaurant every day and I would make sure he got a nice meal brought home for him. Like a “make a wish/dish” thingy.

My Dad did the strangest thing that day after I told him about the money and restaurant eating he called me closer to his bed asked me to get close to his mouth. I asked him puzzled, “You going to kiss me?” No. He wanted to tell me about his “premonition”. Here is what he said. He said, and I quote “I want you to buy a big shot gun with the money.” I actually laughed. I laughed so loud. It seemed hilarious at the moment. Then he got this serious look on his face and asked me if he had ever in the past told me he had a premonition for me… I said “No” and he said: “You are going to have a home invasion. You are going to need the shot gun.” I said something flip like, “I think you had loss of oxygen at the hospital.” That pissed him off pretty good. He wanted to leave me knowing I was protected. I told him I have three hand guns. Those would be sufficient. Nope. So, I thought about it and bought the 12 gauge shot gun. I took it into him when I got home. He approved of the big boy ….but now I’m left freaked. I asked him if it was a person, persons, an animal like a bear, which door, day/night, do I live. He said “Only part I got was that you needed the shot gun.” I’m thinking all the time about it now. Lack of oxygen? God’s intervention? Ramblings of a crazy man? Paranoia perhaps? His and then mine???

A real premonition? Something he leaves me with is now fear. I had already been thinking about the fact that I have NEVER been alone in my house. NEVER. My house is big and has lots of places to hide. Etc. I live in the country way out in the woods. Here is the warning. Don’t ever try to sneak up on me. It will not go well. I may for the first time in 23 years have to lock doors.

I hate this new feeling… fear.

I live in Oregon for a reason. I like not worrying about shit. I don’t like worrying about stuff. It takes up too much space. I may just decide to let it roll and not change my lifestyle. I don’t even own a key to any door in my house. I’m also acutely aware about how huge this house is.

Colton graduates in June and leaves for his Psychology school and Caiti graduates from High School. Next June it will be just two of us rambling around this big house. Why didn’t I think more about the hugeness of my house instead of falling in love with the property? Way, way too much house. I did put the needs of my dogs above any other thought. Now you know what a brainiac I am… Not so much.

I am thoroughly and completely exhausted. I mean bone tired. I keep jokingly saying that my dad is going to break/crush me and bury me first. At this rate he may be right. Past two days has been so shitty and I mean that literally. He was impacted and hadn’t gone in 6 days. Guess he wanted to leave it for me. Ha. OMG every 13 minutes he calls. I can’t leave him on the bedpan. Can’t let him get bed pan bed sores. He has no meat on his ass. He is skin and bone below the waist. Poor guy. We are both exhausted but only one of us is raw and it ain’t me. Poor man. I have heard the doctors tell me a million times when we are at the hospital my dad is going to die. Yes, I know, we all die eventually that I find myself thinking that this time is just like all the other times. Just a scare. Then the fact those hospice people have to come keeps me grounded. My dad laughingly told me tonight he plans for another 6 years. I smiled. That is my Dad. This is my life and damn, I’m waiting for retirement. Isn’t that funny? I think it is ludicrous.

Sparkling Mondays and is this all?

Friends, not friends and of course the liars.

My dad's health has been worse than ever. He is not sleeping. "He is not sleeping", translates roughly to I'm not sleeping either". I am beyond exhausted. I mean it. I wake up more tired than when I lay on my couch. You might not think this possible. Trust me it is possible. I'm tired of being tired. I take 20 some odd vitamins every day trying to stay on top of my game. After a while like now, caffeine is what gets my body amped all day then Tylenol Pm's tell my body when I order it to go sleep. Now I control up and down time with caffeine and benadryl. What has become of me? LOL I love Coffee and Diet Pepsi so it is all good.

I have noticed differences in my thinking too. Even weirder is that I sometimes "hear" my dad calling for me and he is sleeping soundly. We go up and down on this crazy roller coaster of sleeplessness. It doesn't matter if he doesn't sleep because laying in bed doesn't make him tired. He can doze off and on all day. I don't have that same luxury. I have to do my stuff to take care of business. I hopefully am going to get more help with my dad. If I could just have at least 3-4 days of 6 hours straight sleep I will do just fine. Getting up 2-3 times an hour all night long is making me so rummy. I haven't slept in my own bed for over a year now. Couch = bed. Sad huh? It is comfy and I don't usually resent it. I like being downstairs because if anyone comes to the house or if there is a problem I'm in the "hub" of the house. It is so spread out that when I'm upstairs I don't know anything about what is going on downstairs.

Summer is almost upon us. Colton and Caitlin have one week left of finals and they can help out more too. This is my last summer with Colton. He will be in graduate school next summer. I feel sad when the kids grow up and move out. I get more lonely as each moves out. I know this is life but God, it sucks hard. Bitter sweet. Luckily for me I have dogs that won't leave me like these damn kids. LOL. I'm planning for a future. I feel like I have earned it. I want to travel. I want to see other states. I want to be in streams and lakes and see Mt Rushmore. I want to do this before I am too old to enjoy it. Sometimes I feel like "Is this really all there is?" I want to enjoy my life and read books again. I want to lay on the beach all day under an umbrella in the warm sand. Right now tho I'm getting through every day thinking about "the dream."

Enough complaining. I make myself sick with my talk of life. Woe is me. Blah blah bull shit. I have made every decision I have made in my life with a conscious knowledge of just what I was doing. My dad didn't get sick over night. He has progressively with age gotten sicker and more bed ridden etc. I didn't make him eat right so part of his illness is because I wasn't strong enough to keep him off the sugars. I know it was and is his decision but I could have not indulged him so much. I like sugar too you see. I'm not diabetic (Thank you Jesus) and I don't know if I could be as good as my husband is with not eating sugar etc. It is hard.

So, my last post talked about "esoteric things". I have found out that someone I cherished is a liar. They lied to me, they lied to others and it is about their general character. The thing that makes them who they are. Everyone lies, yes, even I. But when you are developing a friendship you are counting on the other person being real. When you find out the other person is NOT what you thought they were it is heart wrenching. I don't have a lot of free time because of my obligations so I cherish the time I am allotted and to find out the time spent in the company of people who don't know how to be honest with themselves or me makes me feel sick. This is the first experience I have ever had where I am (was) friends with a stranger. I will be much more careful next time. I have learned things so it all was not in vain. I don't believe in reincarnation but if it ends up we come back please make me a dog. I want to be a small toy lap dog that is pampered. I want to sleep and eat when I feel like it. I want someone to love on me all day and make me feel loved. My dogs have it made. (ick... I want to be a dog who is fixed) No doggy porno for me. LOL.

I'm in Portland. I brought Kim back from her 7 day stay in GP. Her cellulitis is back and she had to be brought up to Kaiser. I slept in a real bed last night. I slept 7 whole hours. I HAD DREAMS!! I haven't had dreams in months. Too much of my sleep is broken up into little pieces. If I have a dream I don't remember. Thank God I'm not a person who is to interpret dreams. I don't know what they mean but I was so well rested this morning and have a feeling it has something to do with the dreams. I feel fantastic.

David's poison oak is so, so bad. He is on Predisone and got a shot. He is worse than ever. I think the oral ivy drops he takes every single day of the year to keep him from getting it has made him super sensitive to it. His skin where the lesions are is like thick oozing leather. I get it bad but NOTHING like what he has. It is so bad he is so blistered. OMG. I think he should stay off the oral ivy because it hasn't helped do anything.

I go home tomorrow. It's all good. Here is the super crazy part... I miss my dad. Yes, I also miss my kids and hubby but mostly my life is my Dad. Is Dad happy, fed, cool enough, drink enough water, etc. I almost don't know what to do with myself not having him here. I"m a lunatic I know. It is after 11 and all these early birds are in bed. I'm afraid I may wake them with the clicking of the key board. So get real, get real fast and get going.

Do we really "know" people?

I'm 45 and I have just realized that we don't really "know" people. What we know is through our own observations and from what they divulge. Recently I found out that someone who I thought I knew I really don't know. I feel like a tool. I always want to believe the best in people. I want to believe what they tell me. If I have taken my time and have allowed someone "in" I expect at least honestly. Not one sided bull shit. You know, I don't know if i'm getting across what I'm trying to say or not. If I have decided that we "click" and are friends and then years later discover you were a fake person and I have shared intimate details of my life it hurts me. Hurts me deep. If friends can't share "real truths" no matter how ugly than the one who isn't sharing is lying in omission.

I have a friend who has done just that. Let me know parts and pieces and never the real truth and now I'm stuck wondering if I should confront or back away and consider it a lesson learned and move along toward the next thing.?? Any suggestions?

I feel like an investment in each other is what deepens friendships and allows them to flourish. I'm so confused.