Lest you think that last week's post would predict a continued rough patch, we had a really great weekend.
But today is actually one of the biggest days, and one of the biggest trap doors, even though I knew it was coming.
By the end of today, Drew has officially lived longer than Connor. This year will be a series of 10th birthday parties for Drew, and his friends, and every time I will celebrate the amazingness of those roughly 3654 (thanks, leap years!) days. Inside, though, the realization that the decade, the double digits have been breached and it will make me sad to know that with all the things Connor did accomplish in his short life, that wasn't one of them.
But, he did live roughly 3280 more days than they told us they expected. That's a pretty good over. If I were better at math, I could interpret that better. But I'm not, and have accepted that.
One week until Drew is 10. He's very excited. Which means that he won't see anything from me except for huge smiles for him.
Monday, September 26, 2016
Friday, September 23, 2016
Kids
This week has been especially trying for the boys, and I cannot figure out why. But on two consecutive days, they seemed to have lost their damn minds.
Day the First - Tucker's turn. Instead of listening to his soccer coach, Tucker spent most of his practice roughhousing with teammates. I personally adored it when one of them (who mostly Tucker ignored) said to him, "Tucker, why are you doing this, stop it!" AND HE DID. That showed me that my kid can in fact hear. I eventually had to tell him that soccer is a no hands sport and if I saw him put his hands on another teammate during practice I would send him to military school.
Yes. Military School.
Now, I think we all know that I will most likely NOT send my son away. His response was, "You know what? You just need a vacation. You should just go away. We'll listen to Dad and then when you come back we'll be good." So I asked where I should go, and his immediate and emphatic response was, "Minnesota."
??????????????????????
Anyway, I then explained that military school meant going and living elsewhere without us. He broke down in the saddest tears I have even seen him cry. Now he's terrified of me. But at least he's being more compliant and doing what we ask without it becoming a threatdown every time.
Day the Second - Drew's turn. Drew has this tendency to decide if I ask him to do something unpleasant (like hang up his backpack, or walk through a room to put his shoes away) by staging a passive resistance revolt. So yesterday, done with his crap, I dragged him off the sofa by one foot. To say he was shocked and terrified is an understatement. I sent him up to his room. He stomped up screaming, "I'M RUNNING AWAY!" to which I reminded him to pack a bag. Then I sat in the office and heard him go out on the roof over the office from one of his bedroom windows. All the while, I IMed Lee to tell him that Drew was actively in the process of running away. Then, from upstairs, there was a very scared, "Help!" Away I went.
Drew was stuck on the roof. He had also bent the screen and it could no longer sit in the window properly. Neighbor kids came by while I struggled to remove the twisted screen so he could get back in, and he very calmly said, "I got stuck." When he got back inside, he broke down and said, "I didn't want it to show how scared I was."
THIS IS A BREAKTHROUGH. He's never once given a rat's ass about that. So, part of me is crazy proud of him for learning this skill, and part of me is horrified that he has to quash his broadly emotive personality. Truthfully, in the long run, he has got to learn to control his emotions for long term happiness. However, I love that peer pressure has never gotten to him until yesterday.
Either way, I'm hoping that I don't have to continue to threaten to get anything accomplished. I may make them salute me to remind them that there's always the chance I will send them away to learn to follow rules. But don't tell them I won't.
Day the First - Tucker's turn. Instead of listening to his soccer coach, Tucker spent most of his practice roughhousing with teammates. I personally adored it when one of them (who mostly Tucker ignored) said to him, "Tucker, why are you doing this, stop it!" AND HE DID. That showed me that my kid can in fact hear. I eventually had to tell him that soccer is a no hands sport and if I saw him put his hands on another teammate during practice I would send him to military school.
Yes. Military School.
Now, I think we all know that I will most likely NOT send my son away. His response was, "You know what? You just need a vacation. You should just go away. We'll listen to Dad and then when you come back we'll be good." So I asked where I should go, and his immediate and emphatic response was, "Minnesota."
??????????????????????
Anyway, I then explained that military school meant going and living elsewhere without us. He broke down in the saddest tears I have even seen him cry. Now he's terrified of me. But at least he's being more compliant and doing what we ask without it becoming a threatdown every time.
Day the Second - Drew's turn. Drew has this tendency to decide if I ask him to do something unpleasant (like hang up his backpack, or walk through a room to put his shoes away) by staging a passive resistance revolt. So yesterday, done with his crap, I dragged him off the sofa by one foot. To say he was shocked and terrified is an understatement. I sent him up to his room. He stomped up screaming, "I'M RUNNING AWAY!" to which I reminded him to pack a bag. Then I sat in the office and heard him go out on the roof over the office from one of his bedroom windows. All the while, I IMed Lee to tell him that Drew was actively in the process of running away. Then, from upstairs, there was a very scared, "Help!" Away I went.
Drew was stuck on the roof. He had also bent the screen and it could no longer sit in the window properly. Neighbor kids came by while I struggled to remove the twisted screen so he could get back in, and he very calmly said, "I got stuck." When he got back inside, he broke down and said, "I didn't want it to show how scared I was."
THIS IS A BREAKTHROUGH. He's never once given a rat's ass about that. So, part of me is crazy proud of him for learning this skill, and part of me is horrified that he has to quash his broadly emotive personality. Truthfully, in the long run, he has got to learn to control his emotions for long term happiness. However, I love that peer pressure has never gotten to him until yesterday.
Either way, I'm hoping that I don't have to continue to threaten to get anything accomplished. I may make them salute me to remind them that there's always the chance I will send them away to learn to follow rules. But don't tell them I won't.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Like a Volcano
Things have been building. Years like this are hard - politics are so present and so invasive, and it can tear people apart, people who up until now have happily co-existed.
When I was much younger, I was shown the world of campaigning and politics, and I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed helping leaders get re-elected. I enjoyed helping candidates get the word out when they were running in their first race. Of course, I wasn't given a lot of choice...I was 8, 9, 10 and some days were volunteer days at the local office, or papering the neighborhood, or whatever.
I discovered though that when you are a 10 year old girl your opinions about the greater good are not really playground material. I put it away after struggling for years with it being the first thing forward about me. Boys in high school called me a "communist" which was ADORABLE. It's a good thing, I think, that I have the quirk in my personality that gives me the power to not give a crap what people think or say about me.
Entering into adulthood, I sort of let it all go. I took care of me, I took care of mine, and I stood up for people who needed standing up for, or animals, or elements of our environment.
Now here I am, on the cusp of 43, watching my male children learn what's right and wrong, and trying to guide them to make sure they know things like when someone says stop you STOP. I do not feel as though I have a lot of support in this. The very privileged world I live in makes things like tickle-fights and other seemingly innocuous "activities" blaze with red flags around me. They NEVER stop when I tell them to stop. I have to force them. I have to find a way for them to understand.
And we have a woman running from president of the United States. A woman who, when I was younger, seemed to permit what I thought was impermissable occur in her life, which in many ways destroyed my estimation of her. Now, of course, the benefit of age and hindsight has taught me that my judging in those years was unwarranted because you never know how you will handle something until it is planted directly in your path. She's a mother, a grandmother, a politician, a statesperson, and without question fully qualified. And yesterday, she was publicly ill and now that's a THING. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Guess what, as a mother, daughter, Realtor and housewife, I am sick quite often. And you know what I do more often than not? I get up, take some medicine and get shit done. That's my job. Getting shit done is now my primary daily responsibility, and we're talking low-level stuff like laundry, bedmaking, and staying on top of contracts for clients. I stay in bed if I have a fever or am actively barfing. Otherwise, I'm on my feet, making lunches, bossing kids, and generally sucking it up.
Guess what, people? Everyone gets sick, even the president. Frankly, if I were president, I'd be sick a WHOLE lot more, because the stress and the pressure must take so much energy from you. I imagine I'd have a complete set of false teeth stemming from so much teeth grinding that the dentist would just say, "Sorry, they're all nubs and have to go. On the plus side, no more cavities!"
She's been sick all week with an infection that in fact can be cured with rest and antibiotics, and people are wasting time discussing whether or not she has "it" in her to handle the presidency?? When the alternatives are a xenophobic megalomaniac and a candidate who has almost no focus on foreign policy, we are wasting precious moments and fleeting seconds even considering them? She could destroy either or both of them together in a debate on foreign policy right now, hopped up on antibiotics and resting. If they debated today, she'd still roast them.
Do you think that in the 4 years she was Secretary of State, she was never sick? Do you think that in her 8 years as a federal Senator, or 8 years as FLOTUS or 8 years as FL of the state of Arkansas she was never sick? COME ON. That is insane.
It's starting to boil over. All the latent feminism I've been storing inside is starting to come out. My poor kids better watch out. My poor husband too. Because I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it any more...
When I was much younger, I was shown the world of campaigning and politics, and I really enjoyed it. I enjoyed helping leaders get re-elected. I enjoyed helping candidates get the word out when they were running in their first race. Of course, I wasn't given a lot of choice...I was 8, 9, 10 and some days were volunteer days at the local office, or papering the neighborhood, or whatever.
I discovered though that when you are a 10 year old girl your opinions about the greater good are not really playground material. I put it away after struggling for years with it being the first thing forward about me. Boys in high school called me a "communist" which was ADORABLE. It's a good thing, I think, that I have the quirk in my personality that gives me the power to not give a crap what people think or say about me.
Entering into adulthood, I sort of let it all go. I took care of me, I took care of mine, and I stood up for people who needed standing up for, or animals, or elements of our environment.
Now here I am, on the cusp of 43, watching my male children learn what's right and wrong, and trying to guide them to make sure they know things like when someone says stop you STOP. I do not feel as though I have a lot of support in this. The very privileged world I live in makes things like tickle-fights and other seemingly innocuous "activities" blaze with red flags around me. They NEVER stop when I tell them to stop. I have to force them. I have to find a way for them to understand.
And we have a woman running from president of the United States. A woman who, when I was younger, seemed to permit what I thought was impermissable occur in her life, which in many ways destroyed my estimation of her. Now, of course, the benefit of age and hindsight has taught me that my judging in those years was unwarranted because you never know how you will handle something until it is planted directly in your path. She's a mother, a grandmother, a politician, a statesperson, and without question fully qualified. And yesterday, she was publicly ill and now that's a THING. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Guess what, as a mother, daughter, Realtor and housewife, I am sick quite often. And you know what I do more often than not? I get up, take some medicine and get shit done. That's my job. Getting shit done is now my primary daily responsibility, and we're talking low-level stuff like laundry, bedmaking, and staying on top of contracts for clients. I stay in bed if I have a fever or am actively barfing. Otherwise, I'm on my feet, making lunches, bossing kids, and generally sucking it up.
Guess what, people? Everyone gets sick, even the president. Frankly, if I were president, I'd be sick a WHOLE lot more, because the stress and the pressure must take so much energy from you. I imagine I'd have a complete set of false teeth stemming from so much teeth grinding that the dentist would just say, "Sorry, they're all nubs and have to go. On the plus side, no more cavities!"
She's been sick all week with an infection that in fact can be cured with rest and antibiotics, and people are wasting time discussing whether or not she has "it" in her to handle the presidency?? When the alternatives are a xenophobic megalomaniac and a candidate who has almost no focus on foreign policy, we are wasting precious moments and fleeting seconds even considering them? She could destroy either or both of them together in a debate on foreign policy right now, hopped up on antibiotics and resting. If they debated today, she'd still roast them.
Do you think that in the 4 years she was Secretary of State, she was never sick? Do you think that in her 8 years as a federal Senator, or 8 years as FLOTUS or 8 years as FL of the state of Arkansas she was never sick? COME ON. That is insane.
It's starting to boil over. All the latent feminism I've been storing inside is starting to come out. My poor kids better watch out. My poor husband too. Because I'm mad as hell, and I'm not going to take it any more...
Wednesday, August 10, 2016
The All Clear
Back in the day, when Connor was first diagnosed, Lee and I would talk about how we were going to throw this enormous, hella party to celebrate when his EEG came back 100% clear. We had so many people to invite from the vast network of family and friends who supported us and him in those early days.
The closer we got to Connor's first birthday, the more it sank in that we would never get a 100% clear EEG. Undaunted, as we tend to be, we moved forward and had an enormous first birthday party for Connor, inviting basically every person we ever knew. The party was crazy - probably more than 70 people came to celebrate with us, and to accept our thanks for their love and support in this difficult year. In the same timespan of April 2004 to February 2005, we had been given a staggering diagnosis for our son, wallowed in self-pity and grief, contemplated splitting up due to extraordinary sadness on both our parts, learned to care for Connor the way he needed (including 42 injections - one per day, and then how to get enough food into him, and then how to get his medicine in and keep it there, and then, and then, and then...), realized that splitting up only weakened our position of Us-for-Him-Against-the-Rest, started getting sleep again, and then he was 1.
Anyway, the point is, for Connor we never got an all clear.
Today, I had another skin check. Which made me realize it's been 2 years since the cancer diagnosis and surgery. It felt like a LOT longer than 2 years had passed. As of this morning, I've been given the all clear. No recurrence. YAY! I called my mom after texting Lee on my way out to tell her I was released to GenPop for my skin. Now I only need to get checked once a year.
Not bad, really.
No matter what, your body keeps going.
So it's time for my mind to keep going too, and hopefully, my spirit.
The closer we got to Connor's first birthday, the more it sank in that we would never get a 100% clear EEG. Undaunted, as we tend to be, we moved forward and had an enormous first birthday party for Connor, inviting basically every person we ever knew. The party was crazy - probably more than 70 people came to celebrate with us, and to accept our thanks for their love and support in this difficult year. In the same timespan of April 2004 to February 2005, we had been given a staggering diagnosis for our son, wallowed in self-pity and grief, contemplated splitting up due to extraordinary sadness on both our parts, learned to care for Connor the way he needed (including 42 injections - one per day, and then how to get enough food into him, and then how to get his medicine in and keep it there, and then, and then, and then...), realized that splitting up only weakened our position of Us-for-Him-Against-the-Rest, started getting sleep again, and then he was 1.
Anyway, the point is, for Connor we never got an all clear.
Today, I had another skin check. Which made me realize it's been 2 years since the cancer diagnosis and surgery. It felt like a LOT longer than 2 years had passed. As of this morning, I've been given the all clear. No recurrence. YAY! I called my mom after texting Lee on my way out to tell her I was released to GenPop for my skin. Now I only need to get checked once a year.
Not bad, really.
No matter what, your body keeps going.
So it's time for my mind to keep going too, and hopefully, my spirit.
Friday, July 08, 2016
Fixing
The last month or so has been about fixing. Fixing my attitude towards my reality, expressing less anger about things.
It was also about fixing in terms of health. First my dad, with his very serious surgery (which went well, and his recovery at home continues to do well also). Then Lee, who had a minor spill off his bike but managed nevertheless to damage his left thumb to the point that he needs surgery also. Right now, I'm in the waiting room at the hospital, waiting to be brought back to sit with him until the surgery. Good Morning, America is on the TV, playing the press conference from the Chief of Police in Dallas, and I believe the Mayor.
My dad needed fixing. My husband needs fixing. Our country needs fixing. There's not just one person who can make it great again. America became great because the will of the people was to be great, and we strove together to make it so. We have to do better. We have to love each other before all else.
I've seen the amazing things accomplished by love. Back in high school, there was some overwrought argument occurring during rehearsals for a show I was in with my sister. She was so frustrated she started crying. I immediately started crying; it was utterly out of my control. Someone asked me, why are you crying? Because she's my sister, and I love her and I hurt when she hurts. I was 14 then. It's been almost 30 years since then, and now I cry with Alton Sterling's family, and with Philandro Castile's family, and with Dallas, and especially the families of the murdered police officers, as a whole. I cry with the families of all the victims at Pulse. I cry with the family of Trayvon Martin. I cry with all the grieving families, of all the victims of senseless crime and killing. These days, that means I'm crying every single day.
I'm so tired of crying. It's time to change the story. It's time to look every person I encounter in the eye with an open heart and smile, and ask, how are you? Because we are all sad, and angry, and frustrated, and unsure of what to do. But I have to do something, and since it has to start somewhere, I'll start it in my community. You're on notice, community. I am coming for you with all the love I've got, and I will not let you down.
If we all made that promise, how far could we get?
Monday, June 06, 2016
Comfort Food
This weekend, I get to sing with my boys.
Before I had my boyos, I had my boys. I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, and auditioned for and was welcomed into a cover band that played out and about here in Arlington, DC and more. I spent 5 wonderful years with these guys. I mean, they drove me CRAZY sometimes, and it's 100% certain that there were times that they probably wanted to throttle me. But the best years of my life as an individual were spent with them, traveling, performing, and joking. I can remember times I laughed so hard I cried, and then I was so emotionally spent I couldn't stop crying (that was in Kosovo...) They called me on my stupid, selfish bullshit. The shows kept me up well past a normal bedtime, preparing me for life as a new parent (and then, essentially, just as a parent).
I love them. I hope they know it. I'm not good about saying it to them because, (a) at the time, it would have been super weird and awkward and (b) I basically was a guy when with them, and guys just don't blurt out "I love you!" all the time, from what I'm told.
Anyway, by sheer dumb luck (and smelling nice), I got to be with them in the late 90s/early 00s. And when I called and emailed earlier this year and said, hey, would you come play our annual pig roast, they all said yes.
My boyos didn't really get it. To them, I already play with "the band" because half of the current band is half of the line-up of the OLD band. I tried to explain why I was so excited. Total blank eyes. But, being children, I finally found the link.
I said, you know when I make you your favorite meal? And it tastes really good, and it makes you feel warm inside and good inside?
"Yeah." Their eyes brightened in recognition of that feeling.
Well, that's what playing with my boys is like for me. I'm so grateful they are coming to play with me. It's the comfort food of my soul. And my soul is in desperate need of nourishing.
Before I had my boyos, I had my boys. I was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time, and auditioned for and was welcomed into a cover band that played out and about here in Arlington, DC and more. I spent 5 wonderful years with these guys. I mean, they drove me CRAZY sometimes, and it's 100% certain that there were times that they probably wanted to throttle me. But the best years of my life as an individual were spent with them, traveling, performing, and joking. I can remember times I laughed so hard I cried, and then I was so emotionally spent I couldn't stop crying (that was in Kosovo...) They called me on my stupid, selfish bullshit. The shows kept me up well past a normal bedtime, preparing me for life as a new parent (and then, essentially, just as a parent).
I love them. I hope they know it. I'm not good about saying it to them because, (a) at the time, it would have been super weird and awkward and (b) I basically was a guy when with them, and guys just don't blurt out "I love you!" all the time, from what I'm told.
Anyway, by sheer dumb luck (and smelling nice), I got to be with them in the late 90s/early 00s. And when I called and emailed earlier this year and said, hey, would you come play our annual pig roast, they all said yes.
My boyos didn't really get it. To them, I already play with "the band" because half of the current band is half of the line-up of the OLD band. I tried to explain why I was so excited. Total blank eyes. But, being children, I finally found the link.
I said, you know when I make you your favorite meal? And it tastes really good, and it makes you feel warm inside and good inside?
"Yeah." Their eyes brightened in recognition of that feeling.
Well, that's what playing with my boys is like for me. I'm so grateful they are coming to play with me. It's the comfort food of my soul. And my soul is in desperate need of nourishing.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Life's Trap Doors
So a few days ago, someone around me used the phrase "the short bus" to describe the bus service for special needs children. While I'm certain that no harm was intended, it stopped me cold. The second those words were out in the air, a trap door opened underneath me. Another person nearby could tell, and was quietly, unobtrusively, and wonderfully supportive of me, but it was truly a bucket of ice water being dropped on me. I had Tucker with me (who seems to have not heard it, or not cared) so I sucked the tears back in as quickly as I could and moved on with the day, but it's been lingering, and it occurred to me that the trap door nature is the part that is bothering me the most. I don't like this feeling that I caught myself by the fingertips at the edge, and have to awkwardly find a way back up.
I am a calm person in an emergency. But the trap door part of my life now is going to be probably the hardest, because I cannot predict them. Trap doors. Landmines. There's all kinds of imagery I could use. The image isn't what matters. It's the feeling of your stomach dropping out that you cannot predict or avoid. And the worry that your sensitive little ones are going to hear disparaging things and want explanations that you don't readily have. And the internal sadness that people can be thoughtless, including you. Seems pretty much like life, right? Why is this so much harder now?
I'm still sorting through it. Any ideas you have would be appreciated.
I am a calm person in an emergency. But the trap door part of my life now is going to be probably the hardest, because I cannot predict them. Trap doors. Landmines. There's all kinds of imagery I could use. The image isn't what matters. It's the feeling of your stomach dropping out that you cannot predict or avoid. And the worry that your sensitive little ones are going to hear disparaging things and want explanations that you don't readily have. And the internal sadness that people can be thoughtless, including you. Seems pretty much like life, right? Why is this so much harder now?
I'm still sorting through it. Any ideas you have would be appreciated.
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