11/25/09 - New Tattoo Day

My mom and I got our first tattoos together for my 18^th birthday. We went to this iconic tattoo shop in Denver, me with an original design in hand and my mom just knowing that she wanted a very simple Sufi heart. A couple of hours later we were both adorned with our first ink and I was hooked. We took our new artwork home to show my dad and all he could do (still does) is shake his head and sigh. We giggled like the rebellious school girls we can still be.

My mom has been planning a new tattoo for months. She found a guy down here close-ish to their house that she really likes and the two of them have been working on a design to incorporate my mom’s longtime mantra “Om Mane Padme Hum” written in Sanskrit and combining that lettering with the image of a thousand petalled lotus flower. She and I spent quite a while not too long ago looking through image after image to find a couple that she liked and could use as inspiration for her own design. And today is the day for that new tattoo. She’s also going to have him touch up that first Sufi heart tattoo she got so many years ago as her love of the sun has not done wonders for her tattoo work.

So The Girl and I went in to meet her towards the end of her tattoo session to meet the guy and see how the whole thing was coming together before we went to Durango to do our Thanksgiving dinner shopping and get some lunch before heading home to greet The Boy and my husband who arrive today. Unfortunately halfway into town I felt an ocular migraine coming on. I pounded some ibuprofen and caffeine upon my arrival and hoped for the best.

My mom’s tattoo came out lovely, we got all of our shopping done and had some seriously tasty lunch at the same time and as I’m sitting here before bed typing this out, my headache has faded enough into the background that I don’t mind it so much. Pretty good day all in all.

11/24/09 - A Little Diva and Lots of Stories

Remember how I was saying that The Girl was being the sweetest, most wonderful, atypical 3 ½ year old you’ve ever known? Yeah, I jinxed it. If it were possible, and legal, to punt my daughter, man she would have been sailing into the next county by now. I can usually blame these lapses of judgment of hers on lack of sleep or not feeling well. But she slept great last night (even slept in!) and she’s totally healthy. If I’m being fair, she’s just responding to the up and down nature of the emotional state of affairs right now. If I’m being as big of a brat as she is, she’s being a gigantic pain in my ass and I’d like for her to just stop it.

My mom, dad and I were up until almost 11:30pm last night listening to dad tell stories like only he can. Watching him remember days far gone in rural Nebraska and missing his own father more than ever, now that he is facing his own mortality. I think he’d really like to have his dad here to tell him it’s ok. That none of this is his fault and life is just life. It breaks my heart to see how much my father still adores and looks to his own father after all of these years. My grandfather died of a massive heart attack about a week after my mom and dad got married. So I never got to meet him and my parents never got a honeymoon. But I don’t think there has been a day gone by over the last almost 40 years that my dad hasn’t missed his own father.

I expect I’m going to get to know that feeling pretty intimately in the near future.

So I am going to give him a journal for his upcoming birthday. So that as these winding tales from his childhood surface to the top of his memory he can write them down. And later, I can weave all the threads together into a story. So we can all make sure that these glorious memories of times, and people, long past go on being remembered and loved.

11/23/09 - Play by Play

It’s Monday. The Girl is going to spend the afternoon with her Papa just the two of them. As my we were leaving to go into town late this morning, they were just sitting down to play with Moon Sand. The Girl doesn’t ever really get one on one time with her Papa, so it will be good for both of them. My mom and I were going to go to the library for a wee bit and get some lunch before she had to go to work and I had to come back home to relieve Papa so he could go in and get some blood work done.

I’m back in surreal world because my dad is walking, talking and acting pretty close to how he normally does (even if he is moving a bit more slowly). He’s playing with his granddaughter and regaling us all with stories from his childhood during and after dinner. He’s still smoking and having his nightly scotches. Although at this point I’d like for him to ditch the roll your own cigarettes he’s been smoking and put the cheap scotch down and walk away. Trade in the econo-models for some good smoke and drink. I mean, if you’re going to go out with a bang, it should at least be worthy of the trouble don’t you think?

It’s almost like The Girl knows that I need her to just be gentle with all of us right now. That I need her to be the sweet girl she is instead of the attitude driven diva she has been test driving as of late. She’s been so super sweet and helpful; it’s almost been easy to forget that she’s 3 ½ years old.

I miss The Boy and my husband. A lot. I’m ready for them to be here and I’m cursing, yet again, how rough this year has been because it’s left my husband with next to no vacation days left. My dad adores his son-in-law, as does my mom, so it will be good when they both arrive on Wednesday.

Sorry for the minute by minute post for today. But that’s just how I’m taking it right now.

11/22/09 - The Drive

There are no words to tell you how good The Girl was on the drive down to New Mexico. She is three and a half and she sat in her car seat for the entire 6 hours that we were in the car, listened to music and played with whatever toys she could reach and didn’t ask until we were about 20 minutes out when we were going to be there. She was amazing.

I can see how people could get lulled into the whole only child thing. One kid at a time is just so much easier than more than one. They get your full attention, so they are more easily pacified. They don’t have to share the spotlight so they are more willing to entertain themselves rather than needing someone or something else to constantly keep them engaged.

And if it weren’t for those amazing times when The Boy is teaching his sister something or The Girl is looking at her big brother with those adoring little sister eyes, I might find myself lulled by these moments of relative peace as well. But I’ve always wanted a big, raucous family and for the most part, I love the chaos. Except when we are in the car, so that brings me back to how unbelievably good The Girl was on the drive down to my parents’ house. It was an easy drive. Not too much traffic given that it is a Sunday. We stopped in Chama (our traditional get out of the car, walk around and get treats to last us all through the last 90 minutes of the drive stop) to get my all time most favorite beef jerky ever, which is only sold at this one specific gas station in Chama, and to get The Girl her stop gap gummy bears.

The only bad part of the whole drive was having to drive into the setting sun for the last hour or so. That gave me a headache, but all in all it was a lovely and painless drive.

And I got to hug my dad. He’s still here. He’s whole, smiling and happy to see us. And I didn’t even cry.

Looking Forward

**I'll be at my parents' house for the next week, still writing everyday, but I may not be able to post everyday, please don't hold it against me!**

The Girl and I are getting in the car to drive to my parents’ house tomorrow. The Boy and my husband will be coming on Wednesday as they have school and work, respectively, until then. I never look forward to the actual drive; it’s just not very fun. Lots of two line highways, small towns and large trucks going much less than the speed limit, all of which make me very crazy. But it’s a fairly short drive and only having The Girl with me will make it go pretty quickly. I’m looking forward to seeing my parents. Each of them. I’m looking forward to hugging my mom and I’m looking forward to laying eyes on my dad. Even though I know when I do, lay eyes on my dad that is, they will be full of tears. But it will do my heart and mind good to remind myself that he is still here.

I am looking forward to watching the kids play with their Nana and Papa and maybe stealing away with my husband to watch a movie. I’m looking forward to having some non-scheduled time to just be. No school, no pick up times, no worrying about this or that. I’m looking forward to the change of scenery. I’m looking forward to some unadulterated family time.

The Boy is having his first sleep over tonight. We went over to P and M’s house for dinner with some other friends and The Boy begged to stay and they said it was fine. So we left him there. And I am terrified that he will freak out at bedtime and we’ll have to go pick him up. I trust them implicitly; it’s him putting P and M through the ringer that I worry about. Also? I’m not totally ready for my sweet boy to start having sleepovers necessarily. When did he get big enough to have sleepovers? It’s one of those benchmark points that you approach and pass as you’re growing up. And I am just not quite ready for any more benchmarks to go whizzing by my head. I have a sneaky suspicion however that they are only going to pick up speed.

What a Difference a Day Makes

Yesterday I was on the verge of hysteria for what felt like the entire day. I was barely able to hold back sobs throughout most of the day. And even when I was, I still felt like a zombie. I had to remind myself to respond when people spoke to me. I had to consciously choose to interact with my children instead of just curling up in a ball on the couch and zoning out to Thursday night television. I had to make myself do normal things like eat and shower and wear clothes other than my pj’s.

Today is a whole different game however. Today everything has gone back to feeling utterly surreal. It’s been easy today to allow myself to forget that my dad has lung cancer. Today it was pretty easy to just hang out with a girl friend while coloring The Girl’s hair pink and bringing my hair color back to black instead of the mousy brown it had become. It was pretty easy to just sit and talk about anything that crossed our minds instead of feeling like I had to focus on the fact that my dad is dying. And it is that ease that has brought back the surreal feeling to the whole thing. I mean, if it is that easy to go back to normal conversation two days after getting the prognosis, then can it really be as bad as we thought? In fact, if it is that easy, can it really be happening at all?

I mean, my rational mind knows that just because my own internal coping mechanism took over for a day to save me from being crushed under the threatening wave of sorrow, doesn’t mean that the whole thing isn’t happening. The wave is still there and at some point it will start building speed again until it comes crashing down on my head and sends me flailing under water gasping for breath and thrashing about for footing. I know that it’s there and it’s ok. Because I have some time to board up the windows and doors. To sandbag the foundations. And most importantly, it’s ok because I know how to swim.

I Choose Company

Typically when life gets hard or when I’m in the midst of something profoundly emotional, I contract. I pull inwards; away from friends and family. It’s how I process. I go inside my head to make sense of whatever is going on so that I can be whatever I need to be to get through whatever is going on.

But contrary to my historical nature, I’m finding myself choosing to reach out to friends and family. I’m being really open with the people around me and with myself for that matter. Maybe I’ve been through enough over the course of this last year that I’ve finally learned how to be gentle enough with myself to truly just be in any given moment. Without judgment or persecution.

I actually went out with friends last night. A woman in the mom’s group I’ve been a part of for years started a Random Art Workshop (RAW) night where we get together and work on whatever art we want to for an evening in the company of lovely friends. I didn’t go last month because of the weather, but also because of that new friend fear I’ve talked about before. But last night, even though my cold was making me feel pretty crappy, even though I was in a more vulnerable place than I’ve been in maybe ever and even though I’m not overly artistic or crafty, I went anyway. And it was lovely.

A sweet girlfriend offered to buy me and The Girl lunch today, so we did that after preschool. And then we went to the weekly playdate. I’ve had more social interaction in the last week than I’ve had in the last month. I just have no real desire to make myself do all of this alone. I don’t want to suffer in silence and play martyr through the sorrow. I want help. I want hugs. I want company. I want to have the tangible proof that I am not alone that being with girlfriends brings.

It is my dearest hope to stay grounded and present through the next few months and right now, being with these amazing women is allowing me to do just that.

11/18/09 - The Shock of Time

**I'm sorry this is late...**

When you plan a fantastic vacation 3-4 months in advance or you have one of your most favorite people coming to visit in a few months, those months can seem interminable. As if they are literally crawling by, taunting you with how very, very slowly they can move in relation to how badly you want something or how much you are looking forward to that distant date lurking on the calendar.

But when the oncologist told my dad today that he has 4-6 months to live, well that is a whole new story. Suddenly those long-drawn-out days upon weeks upon months suddenly got very, very short. The Girl’s 4th birthday is six months away. I cannot imagine my dad not being here to see that. The Boy will be moving out of first grade in 6 months, and I cannot imagine him not being there to give his grandson a huge hug of congratulations. It just seems like no time at all. And I cannot properly express what a shock that is.

When they discovered the large tumor in my dad’s lungs, I was prepared for him to not be around for much more than another year or two. I get that no matter how aggressively lung cancer is treated that it usually is meaner than the chemo and wins in the end using all of the dirty tricks it has in its never-ending bag of tragedy. I get that. I just honestly did not think it would take him this soon. But it will and given how far spread they think the cancer is, it will probably be sooner.

My dad has opted for no treatment, which I totally understand. He just spent that last several years watching his best friend waste away battling (and losing to) throat cancer. So he’s calling the shots on this one. I want the time he has left to be full of joy, peace and laughter. I want him to be surrounded by the people he loves doing only the things that he wants to do. So we’ll do whatever we need to to make sure that happens.

I want my dad to go out with a bang.

A Little Bit of Information

So I’ve known since Thursday that my dad probably has cancer. I thought I was pretty well prepared to deal with it as soon as I had all the information. Unfortunately, that’s just not how medicine works. With modern medicine, you find out there’s a problem. And then you find out it’s a big problem. And then they run tests and you wait. And then the results come in that the big problem is indeed a big problem. And then they have to run more tests to see how big of a problem it is and what or if they can do about it. So you don’t ever really a full picture until you’re sufficiently freaked out and overwhelmed by the lack of knowledge by the huge amount of thinking you’ve had the time to do while the doctors were getting their ducks in a row.

My dad got the biopsy results back today. A day early. He has adenocarcinoma. What does that mean? Well given the research I’ve done thus far, it doesn’t mean a lot until they do the PET scan and can figure out if the cancer has metastasized to other parts of his body, from there they will be able to determine what stage the cancer is in. But long story short, he has lung cancer. A particular lung cancer that has a 17% survival rate beyond 5 years, even with surgery, chemo and radiation. So the odds are not good.

And I am scraping and clawing to keep level headed. I am demanding that my brain not go down oh shit rabbit hole of doom. I am chaining myself to reality. Because it’s not just me that I have to worry about. I have to figure out how the hell to tell my children that their papa is going to leave them forever. I have to figure out how to maximize our time with my dad. I have to do whatever I can to help my parents make some hard decisions and make sure that whatever time my dad has left is exactly what he wants it to be.

I have to be brave enough to stay present with this.

Confessions, Part Two

I’ve several things which if asked point blank, I would deny outright. Because these are things the little bit of my ego and “cool girl” status just couldn’t take copping to. But here I go. I’m going to cop to them. For all to read about. This, ladies and gentlemen, is Confessions, Part Two.

I loved, loved, loved Def Leppard when I was in middle school and early high school. I knew all the band members’ back stories. I felt a certain “kinship” to the drummer because he was an amputee like my mom. I loved their music and thought they were just about as cool as it gets. Now this particular confession is not deniable because of the band itself, but because I was seriously punk at the same time as this foray into hair band Mecca started. There’s no greater treachery to my punk/Goth/new wave roots than to admit to loving a hair band.

When I was in college I followed wrestling. Not the school sponsored, takes immense skill and strength and is also an Olympic sport wrestling. The guys dressed up in copious amounts of spandex all decked in makeup acting out invented personas of varying degrees of sociopathic nature. My best friend in college, her husband and I used to pay actual money for the pay per view events. We’d plan them for weeks. What we were going to eat, what drinks we were going to have on hand, who we’d invite. I even watched the shows by myself sometimes. Oh, yeah, I was a total geek for Sting, Kevin Nash and Scott Hall (aka The Wolf Pack), Triple H and I’m fairly sure I had a dream once or twice about Goldberg.

Lastly? I am so totally in a dither, over the top, can hardly contain myself excited about New Moon opening on Friday. I won’t get to see it for a couple of weeks, if that, but I still cannot wait. Seriously. Cannot. Wait. I stalk Stephenie Myers’ website. I’ve read the books all the way through 4 times in the last year alone. Oh yeah, I’m a total Twlighter.

There you go. Please don’t hold it against me.

Bring it!

It’s Sunday. And Sunday means football. And can I just say, first of all, that I am tired of getting my ass kicked in my fantasy league. For three weeks in a row, I’ve been the one projected to win all my matchups and for three weeks in a row, I’ve gotten my ass handed to me. As the reigning two time champion of this league I am more than just a little irritated to have a losing record going into the last quarter of the season.

Also? What the hell does Faith Hill have to do with NFL football? I don’t get her singing the Sunday Night Football song.

And tonight it’s the matchup of all matchups for my team. It’s Peyton Manning vs. Tom Brady. Peyton has been my boy for years. I loved him before I even knew much about the Colts. But now the whole team is MY team. They are just a bunch of guys who love to play the game of football and they play their hearts out every single week. They work hard, they study hard and they play even harder. Dallas Clark is hands down the best tight end in the league. Reggie Wayne is a fly beneath the radar amazing wide receiver the likes of which you just don’t see often. The defensive line is brilliance in a gigantor package. They are just a really fun team to watch, especially when they are in a grudge match game like this one.

I’ve already made plain my feelings towards Tom Brady. He’s a pompous ass who struts around the football field like he’s king instead of the egotistical Neanderthal that he is. And I don’t think much about the Patriots in general. They are the Yankees of football. Which is to say they buy their team instead of nurturing and creating one. They’re in it to win it instead of playing for the love of the game. And it’s just hard for me to respect that all that much.

So I’ll be yelling from the couch tonight and hoping like hell that Peyton teaches Brady a lesson or two about how to play football like a gentleman.

Trust-ish in the Process

The doctors let my dad go home this afternoon. The jack ass cardiologist (he is actually a jack ass, it’s not just that I disagree with him) decided yesterday that the main priority was to get his heart rate down and if they could manage that, then he could go home for the weekend and go back for the procedures on Monday as an outpatient. So it took two days and an obscene amount of medication, but they were able to get his heart rate down from the 150-160bpm range to the 90’s, which was their target. So they unhooked and unplugged and sent him on his merry way with the absolute instructions to do NOTHING for the next day and half. Seriously. Nothing. I think the doctor’s exact words were to “sit in your chair and watch football, nothing else.” That, at least, makes me happy.

I am not exactly thrilled that they let him go home. But it is what he and my mom wanted. It’s almost as if they are already treating him like a terminal case. Yes, their gut feeling is that the massive tumor in his lung is cancer. And yes, I know that if it is indeed a terminal diagnosis that he will choose the most intervention free path possible. So maybe they aren’t entirely wrong to look at him that way, but until we know something for certain, I’m just not going there. I want a diagnosis. I want a treatment plan. I want a prognosis. I want information and I would like to have it now. Instead I’m going to have to wait for Monday for the procedures and then Wednesday for the results. It’s infuriating.

It’s not that I like to be in crisis mode. I really don’t. But I really do thrive on information and until I get it, there’s just nothing for me to do except sit and wait. And do nothing. And I’m really not good at doing nothing when someone I love is in danger. To be still right now is taking a tremendous amount of faith and trust in the process. I guess it’s good practice for what is to come.

11/13/09 - Growly

I have always referred to where my parents live as Jabuti, New Mexico. The closest town with a real grocery store is 30 minutes away and it is a thriving metropolis of about 5,000 people or so. There is a larger town another 30 or so minutes beyond that, but to say that it possesses significant civilization and/or culture is to dramatically overstate.

I have never really understood the appeal of the area. Yes the rocks are pretty. But it’s unbelievably hot in the summer, it’s infuriatingly windy in the fall and spring and it still snows in the winter. I don’t get why you would choose to live in the high plains desert and still have to put up with snow in the winter. If anything, the weather closely resembles the weather here in Colorado just more extreme. And it’s always dry as all get out, no matter what the weather is doing. It’s just not a very hospitable place to live my humble opinion.

Their house is at least an hour away from the nearest hospital. They don’t get cell service at their house. Their only option for internet service is either slower than dirt dial up or uber-expensive satellite. They lose power and phone service all the time because of the myriad of weather conditions. There is no middle class; the entire population is either over the top rich or just barely scraping by poor.

And now I get it even less.

Because with everything happening with my dad’s health right now, we have to wait until Monday for them to do the bronchoscopy and biopsy because the hospital doesn’t have the staff available for the procedure during the weekends. I dare not think about what would happen if someone came in an emergent situation needing a procedure that they don’t happen to have staff for on the weekend. “Feel free to live here and enjoy the scenery; just don’t get sick on a weekend.”

The waiting is driving me crazy. I hate waiting. I thrive on information and what the doctor’s are giving me right now is the furthest thing from useful information. If I could growl right now, I would.

And Next on the Agenda is...

My mom called me around lunchtime today to tell me that my dad was in the back of ambulance being taken to the hospital because they had discovered he was in Atrial Flutter and his blood pressure was soaring at a routine visit. I mean, the fact that my dad was actually at a doctor’s office was anything but routine. This is the first time I can remember him being at a doctor’s office voluntarily for probably 10 years or more. But this persistent cough he has finally got to him and in he went. Little did he know that he would walk in there under his own volition and his body would betray him and land him squarely in the holding hands of modern medicine.

They did a CT scan and found an 8 centimeter large mass in his lung which is pushing up into his aorta causing all sorts of serious problems. The first of which is the Atrial Flutter, which they cannot get to revert back to normal sinus rhythm. The second of which is full body edema and his blood pressure is through the roof as is his heart rate. His oxygen saturation is way down and he also has fluid in the lower lobes of both lungs.

Is this fucking year over yet? Seriously.

Anyway, they’re now waiting for the cardiologist and the pulmonologist to make an appearance so they can look at the CT results and make a recommendation for what to do now. To me it’s obvious that the mass has to come out. But my mom wasn’t sure if they would want to run more tests first or just go ahead and get him into surgery to take the sucker out.

So for now, I am breathing and trying to just stay present. We’ll tackle this as it comes and until we know more, I’m just sitting still. I’m not planning. I’m trying not to think. I’m just being. I’m kissing my babies and holding them tight. I’m indulging in some serious brain candy with Thursday night TV and maybe having nothing but popcorn and Snickers for dinner. I’m breathing in and out and waiting for news.

This? This is a Vent

I woke up crabbier than crabby this morning so today’s post is just one big ‘ol vent session. I was going to vent on Facebook and then remembered that today is Veteran’s Day and felt like a big ‘ol selfish person for wanting to vent instead of thanking all the soldiers past, present and future. So you get it instead. Feel free to just come back tomorrow.

The children don’t have school today and I would love to take them to Denver and go the Natural History Museum or the Children’s Museum or go out for a fun lunch at one of their favorite places. But I can’t do any of that. I can’t drive to Denver because I have to conserve gas. I can’t even take them to McDonald’s for lunch let alone Fargo’s or Chuck E. Cheese. I can’t really do anything with them today because we have no fucking money.

I’ve tried really hard to stay positive about this whole financial crisis that we’re in. I’ve tried really hard to keep it all in perspective and know that it’s for the best and will give us a chance at real stability instead of credit card funded illusion. I’ve struggled to keep the bitterness at bay by taking responsibility for my actions while not laying a gigantic morass of guilt around my neck. I’ve done all of these things every day since we first realized that bankruptcy was our only option.

But today? Today I am angry and bitter and guilty. Because I manage the money in this house and I am apparently so good at it that I managed us right into near complete financial ruin. I so want to take my sweet children and do something fun and frivolous today and I can’t because I fucked up. And that feels pretty awful. And that’s not even touching the guilt that floods if I consider what would happen if one of the cars broke down or our heater went out.

Today I want to throw a huge, out of control temper tantrum about the whole thing and go to Starbuck’s on the way to Red Robin. But I can’t. And that sucks.

Change it Up

Sesame Street has been on the air for 40 years today. NPR did a big story on how it’s changed throughout the years and what’s stayed the same. Apparently the biggest thing that has stayed the same is that the show could count on the kids loving pretty much whatever they did. Because it turns out that kids are super adaptable. It’s the adults who disagree with the change. I laughed out loud when I heard this.

Because here’s the thing: as parents we go out of our way to get our kids into routine pretty much from birth. Feeding schedules, sleeping schedules, developmental schedules, you name it and we have a schedule or recommended method for it. And the routines only get more entrenched and complicated as the kids get older. We all cuss out daylight savings time for screwing up the kids’ schedules and blame all the temper tantrums and sleep troubles on the slightest disruption in routine. Even when we don’t really think we have a routine. We stay home on week nights instead of having family get togethers because we don’t want to mess up the kids’ routines. We schedule our whole lives around naps and eating and homework and school and anything and everything else we can jam into our daily lives.

But according to all of the child development experts that Sesame Street calls on when constructing its programming, children are utterly and completely adaptable. They don’t care if Elmo is moved around with wires or if he’s computer generated. They don’t care if Big Bird says hello the same way every morning. They don’t care if the Sesame Street sets are the same every time they tune in. As long as the show is there and singing and engaging and giving them awesome Muppets to look at and believe in, they couldn’t care less whether Cookie Monster has teeth or not.

I guess it is nice to know that as long as my kids are engaged and being loved through every day that that’s good enough for them. Now, if I could just figure out how to let go of my need for routine we’d be getting somewhere.

Oh, Procrastination, You Minx!

Procrastination. It’s such a lovely thing.

“Oh, I’m procrastinating!” said in an offhand, giggly sort of way. As if I’m some well to do woman who has a gigantic list of things to do at all times and occasionally gives myself permission to be naughty. Tee-hee, tra-la-la, pish posh and all that.

When in reality, I am a stay at home mom who is literally just taking each day as it comes. My favorite days are actually the days when I can lay in bed and stare out the window until The Girl comes to get me and we end up lying in bed cuddling for minutes on end. When I can leisurely drink my cup of coffee while checking my email or get The Girl set up with some artsy project. I love days that can just unfold. I go back and forth on whether this is because I am really in my core an inherently lazy person or because I just like to dictate my own pace.

But there are days, especially coming after I’ve essentially done nothing for a week while I’ve been begging someone to take me out back and put me out of misery, where I actually have real stuff to do. Lists jockeying for attention in my peripheral vision while I do my damnedest to ignore them. Like today for instance. I actually had several things on my to-do list today and I got exactly zero of them done.

Partially because I didn’t really have a burning desire to do any of it and mostly because I let my college roommate’s impeccable timing on instant messenger steal the bulk of my afternoon. Seriously, she and I could chat for days if we’d allow ourselves to.

But then I hear the garage door go up and I realize that my husband and The Boy are home and suddenly my to-do list is doing a sultry little “I told you so dance” right smack in the middle of my line of sight. I smile when they walk through the door and dodge the “what did you do today” questions knowing full well that I will indeed tackle that to-do list. Tomorrow.

To Play Or Not To Play

Pretty much since The Boy could walk I’ve struggled with the question of toys. He is all boy when it comes to his choice of play things. He’s been able to pick out and identify a huge range of superheroes from the time he could speak. He’s adored Star Wars since he was old enough to not put the action figures directly into his mouth. He gravitates towards swords and guns and other weapons of violence. He’s a rough and tumble, get down and dirty kind of boy (although he does play kitchen, mommy and daddy and dress up with his sister in a really sweet way). I’ve often wondered if we should have only let him play with all wooden toys designed to engage his creativity instead of battery needing plastic play for him sorts of toys.

Here’s where my main struggle comes in. The Boy really wants to play with G.I. Joes. Which I had always planned on shutting down immediately as I was not at all keen on the idea of him playing with toys whose entire purpose was to fight. We live in a neighborhood where almost all of The Boy’s friends’ fathers are in the military. His first best friend was our neighbor B who was in the army and lost his life in Iraq. Several of his school friends have family members in the military. His Papa Tractor is a retired Marine and his Uncle is in the Navy. So now I don’t think I can just put my foot down with a resounding (but unexplained) no without feeling like an absolute hypocrite.

I have a deep respect for the people who choose to be soldiers. In fact because of B, every time I see a soldier in uniform I have to use all of my willpower not to just hug them. So when The Boy says to me “I want to be a soldier when I grow up because I want to help people” it makes me cry and it makes me want to support him in whatever way I can. Because what mother doesn’t want their son to grow up with the sole intention of helping people?

Continued Aftermath

So it turns out that my husband must have some sort of super immune system. Because this vomit madness aftermath has lasted a lot longer than the 24 expected hours for The Girl and me. By yesterday afternoon The Girl was on her way back to normal and I felt sure that other than the aforementioned muscle soreness, so was I. But I actually feel worse today than I did yesterday. I have less than no energy and I almost feel like I do post-migraine. The daylight is a wee bit too bright and I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out if I move any faster than a turtle. I just can’t quite get my brain to react at a normal rate or form thoughts entirely coherently. I have to erase about every other word as I type it because of typos and I have to re-read every sentence to make sure it actually makes sense. Very strange and I’m over it now.

I’m just thoroughly grateful that it’s the weekend. Because we can all have two full days without responsibilities to catch up, get completely healthy and get everything put back in order. That is, as soon as I can stand up for more than 2 minutes at a time. My husband got called to work some overtime today from home, The Boy seems to be feeling much, much better as he’s outside currently enjoying the gorgeous weather playing with his neighborhood friends decked out in his Captain Rex (red Clone Trooper) Halloween costume. The Girl is curled up on the couch beside me watching episode after episode of Scooby Doo while I clumsily type away on my laptop fighting the ebb and flow of nausea.

Today is also a bittersweet kind of day. It’s the birthday of one of my oldest and dearest friends – Happy Birthday T!! I love you and hope that you have a wonderful day which will set the tone for a fabulous year!

But it is also the fourth anniversary of when our dear friend and neighbor B was killed in Iraq. You are alive and well in our memories and we love you B. Be at peace.

11/6/09 - I Hope You Enjoy Your Stay

Well unfortunately about an hour or so after I wrote yesterday’s somewhat witty quip about needing a thesaurus I was bolting for the bathroom. Every 15 minutes or so for about 8 hours straight. The Girl was plagued all day as well so we had a retching symphony going on in this house. I’m sure it was lovely. And my husband got home to his two completely debilitated girls soon to be followed by a third encore by The Boy. He probably wanted to go right back to work, I know I would have. But instead he dutifully cleaned up the remnants of The Boy’s projectile offering, rubbed The Girls’ back as she leaned over the trash can and eyed me warily as I went to and fro from the downstairs bathroom to the couch and back again.

Obviously we kept both kids home from school today (much to The Girl’s dismay). My husband kicked into gear with the de-pukifying of the house by cleaning furiously (bless his heart) while the children and I spent the morning on the couch watching cartoons. The Boy snagged my husband into an intricate Star Wars game when The Girl fell asleep mid-afternoon and I discontinued the cartoons in favor of catching up on my DVR’d shows. I still have waves of nausea that roll over me, but it appears their only goal is to taunt me, not to actually do anything.

And since I’ve already ventured into “too much information” territory, I will share the worst part of this whole thing. It turns out that relentless barfing for 8 hours straight isn’t actually that bad. It’s the after effects that really suck. It’s the fact that throwing up uses every single one of your core, internal muscles and after 8 hours of that doing something as little as laughing, sneezing or coughing the next day makes you want to cry. And that throwing up nothing but bile for 8 hours leaves your throat raw and makes you cough. So the suffering compounds.

Now that this nastiness has made a complete circuit of my family, I am fervently hoping it will pack its bags and get the hell out.

Welcome to Vomitown

My house has been vomitastic for days now. And let me just state for the record that I am thoroughly done with it now. It’s hit The Boy twice now, it took my husband out for a couple of days and this morning it descended upon The Girl. Although she seems to definitely be getting the worst end of the dry heaves so far. She can’t even keep down water at this point and is rolling from the couch onto the floor to hover over the trash can about every 15 minutes at this point. No fever, thank goodness. But how much throwing up can one little girl take for Christ sakes? I mean at what point do I call the doc for anti-nausea meds? She has zero color in her face and has started trying to fight the heaving which leaves her in tears and screaming by the end of every puke session. It’s heartbreaking really.

I’ve committed to a princess movie fest today in an effort to at least make her smile. We’ve done Cinderella and The Tinkerbelle Movie so far and have just delved into The Little Mermaid. Probably we’ll watch Mulan or Beauty and the Beast next (those two are my favorites, but don’t tell anyone).

And I suppose I should be grateful. Because I would take 24 hours of stomach bug over pneumonia or H1N1 any day. That’s about how long it seems to run; 24 hours of throwing up, low grade fever and generally feeling utterly punk. But then it’s gone and recovery seems to happen really fast. But at this point, I’ve definitely reached my saturation point for vomit.

Right now I’m putting just as much energy into hoping I don’t get this thing as I am wishing time would speed up so that The Girl could be done with it already. I just really have less than no desire to spend tomorrow or the weekend barfing for 24 hours.

But I’m getting more nauseous as the day goes on, so I suppose I’ll have to drag out the thesaurus soon to find alternative words for “to throw up” as I’m sure I’m next on the hit list.

11/4/09 - In the Heat of the Moment

**Sorry. Entire family consumed with vomit madness. Keeping fingers crossed that it misses me.**

I had woken up extraordinarily early one weekend morning when I was little and instead of turning on the TV or reading a book or any of the other totally permissible and appropriate things that I could have done, I decided instead to gather all of my mom’s nail polish and pour it down the banister leading to the basement. And then to add a little creative flair I decided to squirt an entire tube of toothpaste down the same banister and mix it all together into an artistic masterpiece.

As I was putting on the finishing touches, my mom came into the kitchen and discovered what I had done. I remember backing away from her rage and as I turned on my heel to bolt to my room, I ran right smack into the kitchen wall. I hit the wall so hard it knocked me down, and I ended up with the mother of all goose eggs right in the middle of my forehead. I remember looking up at my mom and she was laughing. And I didn’t understand how she could be.

But now I get it. Because when one of my kids aren’t paying attention and end up on their face or their little butts, I find myself laughing at them as well. And it dawned on me the other day that it probably really pisses them off. I remember the indignation I felt at the ripe age of 6 or 7 being laughed at when I felt like the world should have stopped in an effort to bring me recompense for not only the pain of my injury but also the embarrassment.

I also look back on that morning however and understand now that in that moment of me crashing into the strawberry wallpaper adorned wall, all of that rage my mother had was instantly transformed into laughter. And that is always a gift no matter the inspiration.

So what’s the point of bringing up these childhood memories? I guess mostly that I just hope to remember both perspectives in those heated moments and also I hope I have grandchildren so that The Boy and The Girl can someday understand too.

Random Acts of Kindness

I always assume that people will do the right thing when it comes down to it. There is a cynical streak in me however that always points and laughs at that “cup half full” part of me whenever I run into generally mean for no reason people. But today, that part of me that believes that people are generally good in all the ways that matter most, good naturedly poked and giggled at the cynic.

My husband is sick with the same vomit madness that The Boy had, so he has basically ceased to exist for the last 24 hours. In an effort to keep from having to drive back and forth into town in between taking The Boy and The Girl to their respective schools, I decided to splurge and take The Girl and me out to breakfast while we waited. It wasn’t a huge splurge but it gave us a bit of time to talk and color and eat yummy food that I didn’t have to cook. After we were done eating I went up to pay and I swiped my debit card only to discover that the card was expired. Oh. My. God.

Thank goodness I grabbed some cash we had laying around the house on my way out the door (thank you subconscious!), but I was still short. The hostess who was ringing me up totally could have pulled the bitch card on me and been well within her rights. I should be more together and aware than that. Especially now that we are completely credit card free and rely only on cash/debit; I have to have my shit together more than that. But I didn’t. And you know what? She was extraordinarily kind and gave me the difference in cash from her own wallet. And then when I was on the verge of tears because I felt so badly for not being to leave a tip for our server who was equally kind, she offered to give her a slice of pie on her break on our behalf.

I am just so thoroughly grateful for random acts of kindness and I’m on the lookout for ways to pay it forward.

Playdate Bliss

Mondays are usually the days when I map out the rest of the week. We have a slow morning where I play catch up on some computer stuff and generally taking inventory of the priorities of the week and what needs to be done. Mondays are usually just totally laid back, take it as it comes sort of days.

But today The Girl and I had a day long play date with a dear friend that we have been trying to get together with for months and something always comes up. But this morning we both realized we had the whole day free and jumped at the chance to finally get together. I figured we would play for the morning, maybe have some lunch and then we would come home and carry on with our typical rambling Monday.

Instead we were at P’s house all day long. Seriously. I had no idea how fast time was flying until I looked at the clock and it was suddenly only about an hour before dinner. And I suddenly felt simultaneously horribly self-conscious for high jacking her entire day and thoroughly selfish for being so happy that I just got to spend the entire day with P and her amazing kiddos.

Every once in a while I meet someone who is just really a kindred spirit and my number must have been drawn today because I hit the jackpot. Not only does P understand me on a level that I have a hard time putting words to, but her sweet children are also just really my people. Her twin girls spent most of the day alternating sitting in my lap while I read to them and let them play with all of my jewelry. And her son played so sweetly with The Girl and we set a play date for the next time The Boy is off of school so he could have a fellow boy to play with.

I just could not have imagined a better way to spend my Monday. Dear friend, the sweetest kiddos, awesome conversation and a tasty lunch of her awesome lime chicken which I am going to make as soon as possible.

Post Halloween Break-Down

My children have a well documented energy level. I’m sure that if I pooled the combined intellectual capacity of all of my friends that we could surely figure out how to take a small city off the grid just by using the energy these kids generate. But apparently they all have better things to do than do science experiments on my children. Anyway, suffice it to say, they have ALOT of energy.

And this energy typically compounds itself exponentially on and around holidays. At least holidays that involve presents and/or candy. They start bouncing with anticipation about a week or so beforehand and don’t usually stop until at least a month after the holiday has come and gone.

So this morning finds The Girl going back and forth between wearing The Boy’s Clone Trooper costume and her Cinderella dress. Constantly going into the kitchen to make sure that their trick or treat bags, which are overflowing with their candy haul from last night, have not been moved and/or pilfered by anyone. And both of them already talking about what they’re going to be for Halloween next year.

The unfortunate side of this exponential growth of energy is that the more their energy compounds, the less coordination they have. They get so focused on moving that they cease to recognize anything that may lie in the paths. For example, every single year The Boy has gotten so excited when trick or treating that he inevitably trips over a curb or runs across a yard which leads to taking a digger over a lawn ornament. Essentially he somehow injures himself while trick or treating, every single year. So we had a long talk with him before heading out this year about staying with us, not running, setting a good example for his sister, being patient and polite and pretty much everything else we could think of before setting him loose to go trick or treating.

Our mistake? Not having that conversation with The Girl. Because The Boy made it through this Halloween completely unscathed. The Girl however tripped over a curb and ended up with a huge scrape across her forehead. Good thing that candy heals all.

10/31/09 - Happy Halloween!

**Again, sorry this is late. I got wrapped up in the Halloween festivities last night and plum forgot to post it.**

The Boy was almost exactly 3 weeks old for his first Halloween. So trying to be practical parents, we didn’t get him a costume. He slept through most of the trick or treaters and pretty much left the whole day unremarked.

For his second Halloween he was a fire fighter. He loved the costume and wore it continuously for several weeks. We were so excited for him to be able to go trick or treating for the first time when all he wanted to do was curl up in his crib and go to sleep in his super comfy, all fleece costume. But we meanly kept him awake long enough to go up and down our street.

For his third Halloween he was a super duper cute and cuddly dragon. Seriously, it was the cutest, softest little dragon costume ever. Candy was well on his radar by this time.

His fourth Halloween, he was Batman. And he was working on the best trick or treating strategies.

His fifth Halloween he was Spider-Man. By this time The Girl was on the scene and he was busy being the best big brother ever by telling her all about what Halloween was for, helping pick out her costume and teaching her all about the best candy. She was about 5 months old and was a ladybug (the cutest frakking ladybug ever if I do say so myself) and had zero interest in anything but everyone fawning all over her and being able to take things out and put them back into her trick or treat bag.

Last year, The Boy was Boba Fett and The Girl was a Plum Fairy (which pretty much means that we found a super cute purple fairy costume that happened to be called a Plum Fairy but we just thought it was a cute costume).

This year, he was a Clone Trooper and Bumblebee (he had a hard time deciding and we had both costumes) and she was Cinderella. The Boy’s pumpkin trick or treat bag has proven to be too small for his 6 year old trick or treating abilities and The Girl discovered the true joy of Halloween – the sugar coma.

10/30/09 - Pre-Halloween

**Sorry this is late!! I got wrapped up in trying to peel my kids off the ceiling last night and forgot to post!**

Today was The Girl’s first picture day at preschool. So I dolled her up in the super cute clothes that Nana Ro sent her at the beginning of the school year from Ralph Lauren and she even let me brush her hair. The Boy was off of school (because I guess the teachers needed yet another planning day after having a week and half off for fall break and parent/teacher conferences) so I drug him along as the preschool had said siblings could get their pictures taken as well if they were around. So The Boy got studded up in his Ralph Lauren finery from Nana Ro as well and off we went. I thought it couldn’t be any worse than going to a photo studio right? Wow. Wrong. Moved as slow as dirt. So my entire morning went out the window, but I think they got some really sweet shots of the kiddos. So that makes it worth it right?

I did manage to get to Target for Halloween candy, so I was able to tick one thing off of my to-do list.

We came home, had some lunch and then I unleashed the kids on the neighborhood with all of their friends while I caught up on some computer stuff. And then a sweet friend emailed to say she had an extra Bumblebee costume lying around unused – oh joy!! So off we went to pick that up.

Our neighbors across the street had shared with me that the local YMCA was doing a big Halloween celebration tonight, so I had been mulling over whether or not subject myself and my husband to that on a Friday night. Once I found out that ALL of the kids’ neighborhood friends were going, we have decided to take them. One of the neighbor moms (who has 5 boys who are so utterly wonderful with my children that I can’t help but adore her) said they were going to feed them dinner and everything, so it’s a killer deal at $3 a kid.

So off we go, to see how hopped up on sugar we can get both of our children before they just shut down completely.

Google-tastic

I had a totally irresponsible day of getting absolutely nothing done. I spent a good portion of the day chatting with my college roommate and driving back and forth to The Girl’s preschool. I should have dealt with the massive pile of dishes that’s been sitting on the counter for the last two days. I should have a done a number of things. Well, I guess I did go grocery shopping, which really needed to happen. So I guess that’s one productive thing I managed to do today. But other than that? I got nothing. So I was struggling to decide what to write about and decided to Google it. Yep. That’s right, I just typed in “What should I write about?” And here’s a sampling of what I got:

“The 10 Things You Gotta Know About Choosing a College and 10 Things You Gotta Know About College Application Essays.” Very interesting. I might actually read that one since I never even wrote college application essays. Grad school writing samples? Yes. College essays? Not so much. Them’s the benefits of knowing the Dean of Admissions.

“What kinds of things should I write about? .... Should I still write about what I love or what people want, or both…” Yeah. Been there, done that.

“The Top 25 things you should never write in your blog…” I’m not even going to read any further because I’m sure I’ve done every single one of this person’s 25 things and I’d rather not second guess 10 months of relatively solid writing.

“Write a new couch gag for the opening credits of The Simpsons; Tell me a knock knock joke; Describe yourself in five words” Ok, there’s no way that I could write a new couch gag for The Simpsons – I’m just not that clever and after 16 years on the air, I’m pretty sure that there isn’t anything they haven’t already done or at least thought of. I have two small kids so the only knock, knock jokes I know are really just goofy rambling to the general rhythm of “knock, knock! Who’s there?” And describe myself in five words? How about romantic, sarcastic, lovely, impossible and mother?

Ramping up the Research

I might like the lead-up to Christmas more than the actual holiday. I love all the research that goes into getting presents for the people I love. I work on the ideas all year long; paying attention to what friends and family mention throughout the year that they’d like to have or need. But it’s this time of year where it kicks into high gear for me.

I have some friends who aren’t happy unless all of their holiday shopping is done by Halloween, Thanksgiving at the latest. And I have an equal number of friends who are still thinking and plotting (and shopping) until the last few days before Christmas. I usually get done before I’m really ready to be done, which usually leads to, ahem, over-spending. So I’ve got the whole thing down to sort of a fine science. Because I have to make sure I’m done shopping and ready to give gifts right before Christmas, or else I’ll keep looking for other stuff and that is a budget breaker right there.

But I’ve started the research for this year already. Starting to formulate ideas and doing the research to decide if those ideas merit further action, i.e. a request to the grandparents or a higher priority on our budgetary list. I keep a running wish list on the Toys R Us website that I continually add to and take away from as the kiddos’ interests ebb and flow. But it’s all the plasticky, everyday sort of toys that they see commercials for or see their friends playing with. Right now for The Boy, that means all things Star Wars and Transformers. For The Girl that means all things Barbie and Disney Princesses.

The other things however are the ones that take the most research. Like trying to find a great gymnastics class that we can afford for The Girl, which I think she would love. And trying to find a club for the boy where gets a new book once a month (do those still exist?).

Christmas is my all-time favorite holiday. All the research leading up to lit up faces on Christmas morning as those I love open the perfect gifts.

Tales from the Trenches

My husband is an insurance claims adjuster for a huge company and he occasionally brings home stories that he or one of his coworkers has dealt with during the course of their day. He doesn’t do it often because his area of specialty is bodily injury claims from car accidents. And as much as I try to support him and be interested in what he does, I don’t really have any desire to hear about how many people get hurt every single day. And I’ve made this fact abundantly clear over the last 6 years that he’s been doing this. Having a mother who barely survived a car accident has pretty much put me at saturation when it comes to hearing about vehicle accidents of any kind.

But today, he brought home a story from one of his coworkers that works in the property department and it’s a doozy to be sure. Apparently a man caught a burglar in the house and decided to take action instead of hiding in the closet with his cordless phone waiting for the cops to arrive. So he immobilized the intruder with his own gun and kept him at gunpoint face down on the floor. At which point the cops arrived and shot him. Three times. In the back. And then one more time in the leg. They then proceeded to drag him out onto the porch while they handcuffed the, you know, actual criminal. Then they called the paramedics while the homeowner was laying on his own porch bleeding to death. Oh yeah, and his wife and children were watching the whole thing as well.

As he was relating this story to me over dinner tonight, my mouth was hanging open and I kept expecting him to give me the punch line. But it just kept getting worse! I cannot even imagine how angry this entire family must be, let alone the deep betrayal they must feel. But mostly I was thinking how very, very much I hope they sue the hell out of that police department and I hope that the cops who shot this father and husband have to face him every single day in court.

Blah Dee Blah

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, dee, blah, blah, dee, blah, blah.

Yep, that about sums it up today. Can I just write that over and over and over and get away with it? Well, of course I could, it’s my blog. But that’s hardly fair is it? Fine. I’ll play by my own rules and prattle on about something or another, but I can’t guarantee it will be worth reading. So, here we go…

I think I am in hibernation. The fact that we have $20 to our name until my husband gets paid again on Thursday is just fuel to feed my sloth fire. It makes it easy to not go anywhere so that I don’t use gas or get tempted to spend money we don’t have. But they are just excuses nonetheless I think. I know that I am just continuing to find my footing as I get used to being on a plateau instead of constant drama and trauma. Just decompressing and clearing my head. But right now, it feels like hibernation. I haven’t quite decided yet if that’s a good thing or not.

On a totally unrelated tangent, I have a question for you: why do canned soups always taste so crappy? They’re almost gelatinous in their texture and too salty and just overly gross. What’s up with that? I mean I grew up on mostly canned soup and never minded it before. But I sat down to an nice, hot bowl of chicken noodle soup today and barely made my way through half of it before I was gagging. Blech…

And (follow me on one more jump here) this new season of Heroes is the best it’s been since the first season. There’s a bit of intrigue again, Silar is back to being interesting instead of just a goofy sociopath, Peter is back to being hot instead of whiny and I actually want to see what happens next week. All steps in the right direction.

It’s Halloween week and the kids talk about it every single day. The Girl is begging to wear her Cinderella dress every day and The Boy is totally stoked on the prospect of candy. Hhhhmmmm…candy…

Sunday Outlook

Good news for the day? The Boy hasn’t thrown up for about 12 hours and it appears that his fever may have broken.

Bad news for the day? Since he’s feeling better, I have to actually get off the couch and do something productive, like clean my horrendously messy house or, you know, shower.

My husband has already gotten a jump on laundry (bless his heart) but I really should at least dust and vacuum today. With all the wetness we’ve had as of late, the kitchen floor is covered in muddy paw prints both large and small (not to mention the small animals made up of St. Bernard hair that drift from place to place as they ride the currents generated by passersby). And there is an embarrassing amount of dust everywhere because this is the first weekend I’ve felt like doing anything but being put out of my misery for at least two weeks. Not to mention that I am now a month behind on thank you notes from The Boy’s birthday party, ahem.

(Aside: the trailers for The Men Who Stare at Goats make me giggle ridiculously as well as bounce like a school girl at the thought of George Clooney, Ewan McGregor and Kevin Spacey all being in the same movie together.)

There is also a killer football game on today – Vikings at the Steelers. I adore the Steelers. And even though Brett Favre’s off season personality disorder grates on my nerves a bit, he’s having one of the best seasons in a long, long time. And it’s been fun to watch him play again. So this is a hard one for me, but I think I’m going to root for the Steelers while simultaneously being happy when the Vikings have pretty plays. Seems like a good middle road on which to travel given that my Colts are playing the silly Rams today and the game is not being televised. (ARRRGGGHHH, stupid refs throwing flags on innocent rubs, which takes away a touchdown that then leads to Big Ben getting sacked on the next play.) I’m also hoping for a fantasy football redemption today, aka a big fat win thank you.

10/24/09 - Sick Boy

Wanna know the absolute loveliest way to be woken up on a Saturday morning before the sun is up? Listening to The Boy vomit. It was such a perfect, and gentle, way to start the day.

I shouldn’t complain too much because my husband actually got up with him and let me sleep a bit longer. But still. Knowing before you’ve fully extricated yourself from your chosen dream world that your day will be spent tending to a sick boy, is not the best way to start your weekend. And other than feeling really badly for The Boy who couldn’t even keep down water for most of the day, the day was not actually so bad. We decided to let him watch Transformers and Spider-man (two movies he had never been allowed watch) and he and I spent the day on the couch drifting in and out of nap mode interspersed by him running to the bathroom. And I must say that having a vomiting child actually gets easier as they get older because they recognize the signs and can make it to the bathroom instead of throwing up where they stand or sit.

The other huge difference, for me at least, with older kiddos who get sick is that my worry level goes way down. Especially with The Boy. He hasn’t met a sickness yet that he hasn’t bested. The worst he ever had was probably a massive viral ear infection he got as a toddler for which we went through 3 rounds of antibiotics before the docs deduced that it was viral and it lingered for more than a month. But even then, he didn’t let it keep him down. He is just such an extraordinarily upbeat kid that it takes an awful lot (or being extraordinarily tired) to make him whiny or to take away his smile.

And I never get to cuddle with Boy anymore. So although I would never wish one of my children to be sick, it was an opportunity to steal back a few moments of snuggle time with my sweet boy who is getting so very, very big and gradually needing me just a little bit less.

P/T Conferences and the PTA

We had our first parent/teacher conference for The Boy today. And he is doing fantastic. I am so thrilled with his progress. And I wish you could’ve seen him sitting there, beaming with pride as his teacher went through his portfolio and asked him to explain different projects he had been working on. What they meant, why he chose to draw what he chose. They even did a self evaluation and his almost perfectly matched his teacher’s evaluation of him. Pretty cool when you think about it. Because it means that not only is he looking at himself realistically, but also that he has the confidence built already to be able to know when he’s doing well and being successful. And you can’t beat that with a stick. I mean the boy is 6 and he already has a clearer, more confident view of himself than most adults I know. I’m so proud of him I could burst. Can you tell?

His school is going through some pretty radical administrative changes. I’m pretty positive that they won’t affect his classroom experience, but I’m glad that the school is getting out from underneath a really toxic administrative tie. It will free the people who actually make the school a success to continue all of the good work they’ve started.

It also has me thinking about getting more involved. I’m actually thinking about joining the PTA, although my limited experience with PTA’s has me fairly soured on the whole prospect, perhaps I could do some good. And I’m thinking about getting involved with the school board now that it’s up and running; volunteering my experience and talents in the fundraising realm to jump start a fundraising committee. With the established administrative ties being broken and the school “going out on its own” as an independent charter school, the state mandated funding will still be in place, but they will surely need to fan the flames of supplementary fundraising and with a quickness.

I love this school. I love what it is doing for my son. So if I can figure out a way to give back, even in the smallest of ways, I’m up for the challenge.

The Symptoms of Brain Death

I am exhausted. And apparently also brain dead. Because I’ve sat down to write at least a dozen times today and I’ve come up with nothing. So you’re all going to be graced with my powers of stream of consciousness writing today because I got nothing else at the moment. Feel free to stop reading and just come back tomorrow. I wouldn’t blame you really. (How I know when I’m really brain dead? When I’m writing my blog posts and have to stop myself from putting little smileys or winking smileys at the end of my sentences. That’s just bad.)

I got to have coffee with my dearest L this morning. I don’t get to hang out with her nearly as much as I’d like so I always savor the coffee dates we try to pull off every few weeks or so. She gets me on a level that only a handful of girl friends ever have so it’s always a gift to share space with her (plus we went to this super cool little coffee house around the corner from the preschool our little girls go to and the barista drew a pumpkin in the foam of my latte, how cool is that?!?).

Thursday nights are my chick show nights. I don’t even see my husband for the most part of Thursday nights. It’s Grey’s Anatomy and Private Practice and Project Runway. Shows that I’ve watched since their inception. And the newcomer this year, which I am totally embarrassed to admit to watching but I’ve already copped to Dawson’s Creek so why not, The Vampire Diaries. It’s teenage angst ridden drivel, but what can I say, I’m a sucker (pun unintended). So I am curled up on the couch under blankies, wishing my sore throat away, hoping that I wake up in the morning feeling just a little bit better than I do today.

We have The Boy’s first real parent/teach conference tomorrow morning. I’m excited for the chance to talk to his teacher and really see how he’s doing in her opinion. Because in my opinion he’s doing great. He’s doing over the top fantastic and he’s also growing up entirely too fast.

Then and Now

When I was growing up I watched benign shows like Sesame Street, 321 Contact, Richie Rich, The Electric Company, Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, Looney Toons, Tom and Jerry and Scooby Doo. My TV time was populated with Muppets and overly enthusiastic adults, maniacally instinct driven cartoon characters of the rodent and feline persuasion and harmless frivolity.

Today however there are The Doodlebops who have rubber wigs and engage in very strange activities which start with one orange hair person compulsively having to pull a rope which douses him in water before he can start his day. There is Max and Ruby where two young bunnies apparently have no parents and free reign in the house at all times. There is Yo Gabba Gabba where fully costumed blobs get funky with different musical stars and actors; it’s like old school Sesame Street only with aliens in the place of Muppets and a strange guy in a big, orange, fuzzy pope’s hat in the place of Gordon and Maria. Then, of course, there are the updated versions of Scooby Doo and all of the superheroes (most of those I actually like better now than I did then).

Not to mention the changes that my beloved Sesame Street has undergone. Cookie Monster eating carrot sticks instead of anything even remotely resembling the shape or appearance of a cookie, Kermit being replaced by an annoying little red midget of a Muppet and the overall feeling of the show shifting from cultivating a kinder, gentler kiddo to political correctness dialed into cutting edge child psychology.

Not to say that they’re all strange in a bad way. The Girl loves The Backyardigans, which admittedly it took me a while to warm up to, but I now love. It’s clever, funny and well written even for preschoolers and who doesn’t like to watch four good natured cartoon characters rap to polka music? And we have always liked Ben 10 and The Clone Wars.

It all makes me wonder what my parents really thought of the shows I watched as a kid. I wonder if they shook their heads and rolled their eyes or whether they secretly tuned in as avidly as I did.

Proof of Power

Becoming a mother was a top to bottom change of state for me. Pretty much everything I thought was true changed the moment I got knocked up. Most of it for the better, some of it I lost myself to, and although the road back has been long I’m still not sure it wasn’t worth it.

Even on my most frustrated, at the end of my rope, want to duct tape the children’s mouths shut and put them in the closet days, being a mother resonates in a very deep part of my soul. Even when I’m not at all sure that my mothering techniques are up to snuff, I always have complete confidence in being a mother.

But one of the most tangible parts of becoming a mother for me has been getting comfortable in my own skin again. I have always been at war with my body image. Even when I was thin and healthy and gorgeous, I just couldn’t see myself very clearly. Since the stretch marks have marathoned across the length of my stomach and my hips (and feet) have widened and my boobs have gravitated towards my belly button in an attempt to commune with the depths that reside there, I’ve mostly just tried to ignore my body image. And my body. It serves its purpose well and I’m grateful for that, but I’d rather just pretend that I’m always wearing an invisibility cloak.

The journey undertaken this past year however has brought some much needed perspective when it comes to my appearance (thanks to the Mojo Boots for bringing me back my sass). And even though it makes me sick (in the best possible way) when all of my friends look as if they’ve never been pregnant 2.7 minutes after birthing their children, there is a part of me that has become deeply grateful for the fact that there is physical evidence of having my two babies.

I’d gladly trade my jeans for a new pair a few sizes smaller any day of the week, but I wouldn’t ever hand over the tangible corroboration of what my body is capable of. That’s empowerment that Mojo Boots just can’t touch.

Just a Mom

I read a piece today in a newly discovered magazine – Get Born – that really spoke to where I am right now. The author was writing about how embarrassed she was to admit that she is “just a mom.” Knowing full well that under that embarrassment was indignation at forcing herself to add the “just” in there. And I am so there.

I started my own business when The Boy was born so I could work from home. A year ago I decided to go back to work full-time (i.e. steady paycheck instead of unsteady contract work) in the face of our disintegrating financial situation and I’ve thoroughly documented my journey towards that end. It’s just become abundantly clear to me that the universe wants me right where I am for some reason or another. Here, present, with my children and family as my first priority. Out of nonprofit and away from fundraising. And for the first time since becoming a mother I have to now say that I am a stay at home mom. And there is a large part of me that feels utterly defeated in that statement.

I vividly remember wishing that I could just take the time to focus on my kids when I was working. I remember wishing for the client juggling to stop and the deadlines to ease. I just wanted the time to paint and frolic and be with these children who were growing so fast. And now I have it. And for that I’m completely grateful.

But that over-achiever in me that lurks just under the surface has its hackles raised at the idea of “just” being a stay at home mom. And even though the number of stay at home moms that I have in my life far outweigh the number of working mothers, I still feel like I’m letting my friends down. From what no one knows, but the feeling is there nonetheless.

I can rattle off hundreds of things that I do in a day or week or month. Important, necessary, even vital things that I do to keep my family humming along. How much longer can I justify devaluing my work in this family?

Utterly Irrational

I have a totally irrational hatred of Tom Brady. The man just brings out the worst in me. I cannot bring myself to think positive thoughts about him regardless of how nice he is or how well he plays the game of football. I mean I am sitting here watching him literally have a record breaking game where he just threw 5 touchdowns in one quarter. Not one half, not in the whole game, in one freaking quarter. And I cannot bring myself to be even mildly amused by this. I find myself screwing up my face and sticking out my tongue at the TV.

Keep in mind that I still feel this way about Tom Brady knowing that I have nothing to lose in my fantasy matchup this week with him. I can’t even explain it away that way. One would think I’d have the same kind of wrath towards Drew Brees at least for this week after watching him have yet another game of his life annihilating the Giants as I watched him rack up points for my opponent. It’s painful to lose like this granted, but Drew Brees is a good comeback kid kind of guy so even though he single handedly assured my loss this week, I still kinda like the guy.

Every time I see Tom Brady’s stupid name in the headlines I cuss him out under my breath. It makes me crazy that his pretty face married a supermodel. Even his sweet baby irks me. It’s totally irrational. To the point where I have never even had a Patriot player on any of my fantasy teams. I just don’t want any association with him (although I’m about to break that rule by picking up Maroney as a possible workhorse running back).

The only thing I can come up with to even come close to explaining it is that it’s all just so cliché. He’s the star quarterback pretty boy who always gets the job done and always gets the girl. He’s “humble” and easy going. He’s charming and professional and oh so focused. And it’s always a given that he’ll win.

He may as well be a cardboard cutout.

10/17/09 - Jumping through Hoops

Here’s the most irritating thing about filing for bankruptcy (other than having to give a lawyer a big pile of money to have it legally, and publically, recorded that we don’t have any money) – having to take the pre and post-filing classes that are required by federal law. We have had to go through several companies that offer these classes for an assortment of fees (yet again having to spend more money to prove that we don’t have any money) and figure out which one will not only be the cheapest, but also the most expedient. Because we can’t legally file with the courts until we get the pre-filing credit counseling course taken and the completion certificate sent to our lawyer so he can include it in the final petition.

Now, let me be clear in that I really, truly understand why these classes are required. No one wants people to use bankruptcy as a way of hiding from a huge pile of debt that they got into on purpose. And no one wants someone to file for bankruptcy without having explored every single available option. It really is a last resort sort of thing. So making these courses mandatory gives people two more hoops to jump through as well as making sure they are educated on the process and its ramifications. I totally get that. Having said that however, they are a presently a gigantic pain in my ass.

Especially this first class because it’s a two parter. We each have to take the online course which I’m guessing will take about an hour or so and then we have to schedule a phone counseling follow up call to help establish a budget which will probably take another hour or so. I know that 2 hours sounds pretty inconsequential. But it’s really not. Especially since it’s computer and phone time where I have to, you know, pay attention. Show me a mother who time for this.

And the part of me that has painful clarity on why we are in this process resents the fact that I am forced to pay someone to tell me this is a bad place in which to be.

Western Union

“In a few minutes your love can be tangible.” – Western Union slogan

This particular slogan makes me irrationally angry. Maybe because I was pretty much raised in a time when wiring money has gone completely out of fashion except in the movies where the only people who wire money are felons and white trash kids stuck in some hickville trailer park without a clean wife beater. It makes me think of men with huge pot bellies sending money to their old ladies who are standing in their curlers, hair nets and polyester muumuus. It makes me think of dirty out of the way offices that you have to search out in the seedier parts of town.

It pretty much makes me think of anything but love.

And maybe that is what the slogan is trying to change. Trying to shift the point of view back to a quick way to send your oldest son money across country because he blew a tire on his spring break road trip. Because I think most Western Union offices are probably in well lit grocery stores nowadays.

But it also speaks to the part of me that is just flat royally pissed off that we’re in the financial state we’re in. Because to tell me that THE way to make my love tangible is to send money to family and friends just makes me want to scream since it’s just about the only thing I can’t presently send them. I can send virtual hugs and all of the positive vibes and thoughts I can muster. I can send cards and emails and Facebook love notes. I can think of all kinds of funny, silly, creative ways to “make my love tangible” should I ever feel the need, but sending money is really not one of them (not that I wouldn’t love to receive that kind of token of all of your love).
Also on some philosophical level it makes me irate that I should ever have to make my love tangible. I mean who really wants their loved ones to nail down how very much they are loved into a hot pink teddy bear or a bouquet of flowers?

Peaceful Temper Tantrum

I have now been sitting here staring at a blank page for more than an hour. It has been one of those totally mellow days where I’m trying to soak in the peace and quiet in an effort to banish the sickness and re-charge my soul. I’ve managed to dispel the usual guilt that accompanies me taking time for myself, which in and of itself is a huge stretch. Basically I just decided to take this week and really give myself permission to do whatever I needed to do at any given time.

Since I’ve gotten my ass handed to me by this plague that was brought home to share, I knew I wouldn’t really make any plans other than just staying home and taking it easy. Which was fine. I had a couple of books I wanted some quality time with and I was looking forward to the opportunity to just watch movies all day long.

And I was well on my way to accomplishing all of these things. But tonight I’m feeling all temper tantrum-y and like I have to justify how I’m spending my week off. All of the guilt and judgment I’ve been shooing away all week rushed back into the room all at once. And that pisses me off. Should I have used the time to clean and organize and get stuff done? Probably. Should I have made some special plans to get together with friends I don’t get to see often enough? Probably. Should I have put more effort into going down to my parents’ house to spend time with them and the kiddos? Probably. But I just flat didn’t want to. I haven’t been feeling good. And I am just tired to the core. I just needed a true break this week to recharge and shift perspective.

My year thus far has been trauma followed by drama followed by catastrophe, rinse and repeat. And it feels like we may be slowly climbing up onto a plateau where we can ride out the rest of 2009 in peace and quiet. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for that and I thought I’d start with my own inner peace and quiet.

Liking what I Like

The people in my life are extraordinary. Some are extraordinary writers; some are extraordinary artists and/or actors. Some are extraordinarily compassionate and open-hearted. Every single one of them is an extraordinary thinker in one way or another. And I’ve spent most of my life just trying to keep up with them.

I’ve spent time trying to keep up with them by rebelling against them of course. By rejecting their favorite authors or directors, artists or schools of thought. Thinking perhaps that if I could shoot down these chosen masters that perhaps even though we disagreed I’d still be at their level.

I’ve also spent time devoting myself to being an utter cultural snob. Only choosing the artsy movies, the indie bands, the out of mainstream books, the underground thinkers. Attempting to elevate myself above the common trends by only exposing myself to the best.

Over the years however I’ve pretty much just accepted that most of the people around me are just flat smarter than I am. And that’s totally cool. I mean first of all, they choose to hang out with me even though they’re smarter and they constantly challenge me and I think that rocks. But I’ve also had to strike a kind of balance between the challenge and just what I like.

And much to their dismay, I really like things like Dan Brown’s books, beat ‘em up blow ‘em up movies, Dawson’s Creek, tomato beers and queso dip made with Velveeta. I could totally overanalyze myself and trace back their etymology to some childhood event or how they may be tied to a very special memory thereby forever tying them to my internal list of favorites. But at the end of the day, I just like what I like. And I’m cool with that. I don’t really care anymore that I look at a piece of modern art and think that The Boy could do it better. I don’t mind when friends laugh at me for getting emotionally invested with teenage TV characters embroiled in overwrought angst.

They love me anyway and that’s just how I roll. I’ll take their challenge any day just as soon as I’m done watching X-Men.

Dan Brown in a Day

Man do I love Dan Brown. He has a new book out that is the next story in the Robert Langdon saga. And I gotta say that this character must have some serious karma to repay. He must have hit some sort of karmic wall that triggered an immediate repayment order. He went through his whole life without much happening to him and then all of a sudden every couple of years he gets involved in the middle of some maniac’s plan to prove some mystical artifact as fact in an effort to change all of humanity for better or for worse. Robert Langdon seriously keeps getting the shit end of the stick man and he totally deserves an extended vacation to one of those super fancy resorts in Fiji where you get your own private hut out in the middle of the ocean where the floor is made of glass and you can spend hours watching fish swim underfoot while you sip a fancy umbrella drink.

But even though I feel for the guy, it makes for some awesome brain candy reading. I started this book about an hour before I went to bed last night and am almost finished with it tonight.

This book really takes you into a much more mystical realm than his previous two. I mean they all deal with legends rooted in mysticism and religion but this one takes that to a whole different level. And while it is an enthralling story, it feels a bit rushed. Both Angels and Demons and The DaVinci Code were just as informational as they were engaging and this one feels like it skips a lot of those opportunities to teach for just moving forward. Which makes me a little sad because those insights into ancient symbology and history were some of my favorite parts of his writing. I’m a total sucker for a conspiracy theory that has just enough evidence behind it to make you wonder. And he brings those in spades with his storytelling.

But his books always make me wish I read more slowly. So I could savor them a bit more instead of plowing through them in a day.

10/12/09 - Day 'o Star Wars

What to do on a day when my husband has the day off, the children are with my parents and I am still feeling crappy? How about lie on the couch all day and have a massive Star Wars marathon? Yes, please.

We meant to just hang out, enjoy the quiet, delve deeper into the first season of Six Feet Under and maybe watch a movie. Instead, we happened upon one cable channel doing a mammoth Star Wars marathon and got totally sucked in. After watching Episodes 2 and 3 on TV, I pulled out our DVD’s and we watched the last three blissfully without commercials.

The Boy is sort of on the Star Wars bubble. I mean he’s totally into Star Wars: The Clone Wars, the animated series that started last year. We have a Friday night ritual of making dinner and then sitting down to watch Clone Wars while we eat. So he knows that particular set of character thoroughly, which is pretty cool because he gets an expanded view on characters that we mostly only got to hypothesize about unless you picked up the books, which I did not. He gets to know more of the individual Jedi; their personalities and traits. Which is actually probably my favorite part of the series. But we’ve set him down a couple of times to watch the original Star Wars movies and he gets intermittently bored. There is quite a bit of dialogue and not that many super cool, engaging for a 6 year old boy light saber fights. Even Episodes 1-3 have more action in them than the original three.

So I get it. But it was awfully fun to sit back and watch the originals. Took me right back to my childhood and the initial awe I felt at watching this whole new world unfold before my eyes. Wanting to get more into the mythology of Star Wars but not having the faintest clue as to where to start as none of my friends were quite as intrigued as I was.

It will be with great pleasure to take The Boy and guide him backwards towards the beginning of the Star Wars universe.

The Week Ahead

We sent the children to my parents’ house today. The Boy has this whole week off for fall break and my parents were missing the kiddos so I took The Girl out of preschool for the week and off they went. I’ll probably head down there later this week to hang out for a couple of days and then bring the kiddos home next weekend to get ready to move back into the daily grind.

I’m hoping that having the next few days of quiet will allow me to banish this sickness back to whatever rock from under which it crawled. I’m thoroughly done with it now and am ready for it to vacate the premises. Post haste. And I thought I’d go thrifting to see if I can’t find the kids’ Halloween costumes for cheap.

I wish I could say I had some grand plans to pamper myself proper. I could really use a mani/pedi. And a girl’s night out. But we are in the midst of trying to figure out our cash only budget and it’s a bit tricky at the moment. So we’re not spending any money on anything but necessities. Although my husband has tomorrow off, so I thought maybe we’d raid all the penny jars to see if we couldn’t come up with enough to go see a movie or something just a wee bit fun since it’ll be just the two of us.

And it’s freaking cold here. So any temptation I may have had to go anywhere got pretty much nixed by the multi-car pile ups on the highway caused by the entire city being covered in one big sheet of ice. Colorado is apparently going through some sort of weather schizophrenia and has totally screwed up the seasons this year. We skipped fall altogether much to my butterfly bush’s dismay.

I had an unexpectedly good fantasy football day as well. So that’s always nice. After this morning’s games I was counting myself lucky to be above a total of 50 points, but then my boy, Peyton Manning, swooped in to the rescue and pulled me through. I like winning; not a bad way to start the week.

Ramble On

I’m still sick. And I am irritated about it. So I’m just sort of in a rambling mood tonight. Try to bear with me.

My daughter amazes me. I’m not at all sure how someone so small (relatively speaking of course because my children are Sasquatch children) could be so simultaneously irritating and adorable. She has started doing some things that I was dreading about having a girl, i.e. getting totally obsessed with one or two dresses and then refusing to wear anything but those dresses at all times regardless of how many other clothes she has access to or how dirty those two singled out dresses become. She’s also taken to wearing her old baby hats, which would funny enough on its own but then she puts a tiara on top of the teeny tiny hats to make sure they stay on. That paired with the net tutus she puts on over her favorite dresses, accessorized with an assemblage of Mardi gras beads and old thrift store necklaces makes for quite the sight on her little 3 year old self.

I’ve been doing some research for a friend of mine into baby carriers available on thebabywearer.com because I’m trying to get her the hell away from the baby bjorn/snuggli and towards something that will be better and more comfortable for her and baby both. But in the course of spreading the baby wearing love, my own baby carrier obsession has once again arisen. I’m drooling over Eye2Eye mei tai’s and Vatanai wraps and Pslings. It’s awful. I should just stay away from the for sale or trade forum; it gives me the wants something awful. But it is interesting to see what the hot carriers at any given point in time. It changes pretty often; wraps are huge right now whereas the last time I was stalking the FSOT boards it was soft structured carriers.

I got to spend the whole day watching college football. I can’t even remember the last time I got to do that. No kid shows. Just football. I got to watch the Oklahoma AND Michigan games. Now I’m keeping my fingers crossed that my fantasy team shows up tomorrow.

Nobel Vision

“We were quite surprised.” – Sr. White House official on President Obama’s being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.

I must say that I agree. Not to say he doesn’t deserve it. But that I’m surprised he got it at this point in time. I believe Barack Obama to possess incredible potential to do amazing work in this world. I think he has the capacity to bring people together in a way that not many do and he is completely unabashed about leveraging that capacity to work towards international peace and provide a stronger and safer way of life in all of our back yards.

The general consensus seems to be this is the Nobel committee’s way of encouraging him to keep doing the work that needs to be done regardless of his prior experience. Their way, perhaps, of lending him the Nobel pedigree to further embolden him to keep making strides towards realizing his vision. And that I can totally buy. Although I wonder how that makes him feel? That while enough of the world already agrees and supports the work he’s doing to get him nominated for the Nobel in the first place, they also still feel that his qualifications are lacking enough to need to borrow pedigree of any kind.

I guess the most interesting thing is that it appears that Obama’s particular vision is apparently quenching some worldwide need big enough to warrant this kind of recognition. That his vision alone is enough in the world as it is to garner this type of encouragement. Because even though I love the guy, let’s face it, there simply hasn’t been enough time yet for him to achieve much of his vision internationally (or domestically for that matter). So this award is much more of a “you go boy!” type of thing to keep him going down the path he’s laid.

All in all I think it’s a brilliant thing. Brilliant that the world is aware enough that peace is in fact what it needs. Brilliant that they recognize in this man the ability to bring us all closer to that vision. Brilliant that Obama now has one more tool to get the job done.