Here I am at the end of a very long week. I'm drinking and I'm feeling better than I have in a while. Could it be the alcohol? Perhaps. It might also be that I at least got some decent lab results indicating that my risk for ovarian cancer is low. I'm pleased with that. It may also be that my Mom came over and rescued me today and helped me regain perspective. I was having a very bad morning until she showed up.
As my body is forced to relax via the sweet, brown bottle at my fingertips, I am reminded of the sensation that one feels right before going under anesthesia. It won't be long before I'll be experiencing that once again. Under the knife. It's clear to me that my state of mind is less than desirable these days considering I find the idea of surgery as a way to rest. Pretty sad.
I will let go and be at their mercy. I will lay there and sleep while they slice me open. I will be manipulated and cut and parts of me removed but at least I get to rest.
I will wake up in pain. I'll be awoken by countless nurses and poked and prodded but then I'll be able to sleep once again. Three days paid for by insurance. I couldn't pay for a 3-day vacation so maybe this is the next best thing.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
I don't like it either anymore too bad
My 2 1/2 year old is a rascal. He even knows it because he sometimes says, "Neil is a punk," after doing something rotten. I can't imagine where he got that.
His favorite new thing to say more often than I care to hear it is, "I don't like it either anymore too bad!" This phrase has morphed and changed over time. It first started out as, "I like it," even though he clearly was stating that he didn't. Once he got the concept of "don't" down then it became, "I don't like it." As you can guess the additional words were added until it became, "I don't like it either anymore too bad."
I feel I must explain the "too bad" part since that was all my fault. When you're trapped in the house with youngsters, it's easy to become rather infantile in response to some of their annoying behavior. I swear Neil can inspire a tamper-like tantrum in me after hearing him repeat something annoying and whiny for 3 hours. So, being the mature person that I am, I once responded, "too bad" when he kept whining for something silly like watching a video of himself ("Neil show") or not liking getting his diaper changed. Yes, it was sweet and understanding of me but, if you've spent considerable time with a 2 year old who has a very profound sense of entitlement, you'd understand 100%. Anyway, realizing there was some power in that phrase, my son gladly added it to his now favorite phrase.
The funny thing is that right now I totally know what he feels like when he says it because I feel like throwing a tantrum myself. I'm not the least bit excited about having to have surgery. I don't like not knowing whether I have cancer. I probably don't but, damn, I have enough shit going on. I'm the mother of 3 small children and I'm not really excited about the possibility that their lives (not to mention mine but this is how moms are) might get severely disrupted if mommy gets sick. Ah, jeez. So, in the spirit of my dear, darling toot of a son, I feel compelled to scream at the heavens, "I don't like it either anymore too bad!"
His favorite new thing to say more often than I care to hear it is, "I don't like it either anymore too bad!" This phrase has morphed and changed over time. It first started out as, "I like it," even though he clearly was stating that he didn't. Once he got the concept of "don't" down then it became, "I don't like it." As you can guess the additional words were added until it became, "I don't like it either anymore too bad."
I feel I must explain the "too bad" part since that was all my fault. When you're trapped in the house with youngsters, it's easy to become rather infantile in response to some of their annoying behavior. I swear Neil can inspire a tamper-like tantrum in me after hearing him repeat something annoying and whiny for 3 hours. So, being the mature person that I am, I once responded, "too bad" when he kept whining for something silly like watching a video of himself ("Neil show") or not liking getting his diaper changed. Yes, it was sweet and understanding of me but, if you've spent considerable time with a 2 year old who has a very profound sense of entitlement, you'd understand 100%. Anyway, realizing there was some power in that phrase, my son gladly added it to his now favorite phrase.
The funny thing is that right now I totally know what he feels like when he says it because I feel like throwing a tantrum myself. I'm not the least bit excited about having to have surgery. I don't like not knowing whether I have cancer. I probably don't but, damn, I have enough shit going on. I'm the mother of 3 small children and I'm not really excited about the possibility that their lives (not to mention mine but this is how moms are) might get severely disrupted if mommy gets sick. Ah, jeez. So, in the spirit of my dear, darling toot of a son, I feel compelled to scream at the heavens, "I don't like it either anymore too bad!"
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Poop on my face
In the middle of juggling the twins during their bath, my husband noticed that I had something on my face. He lovingly reached up to pick it off then realized with horror that it was baby poop. While I shrugged as if that happens everyday, Chris grimaced and suggested I go wash my face. I couldn't help but feel that that moment summed up today.
We're facing more poop. For those of you who know us well, you've heard about how crazy our lives have been over the last year or so. Apparently, it's time for us to endure another trial of sorts. How much of a trial is unknown at this point. I'm hoping for a small one but we'll see.
Today, I went to the doctor to see what was up with my left ovary. Most people probably can't tell where their ovary is much less whether something is unusual but, after all the IVF procedures and subsequent hyperstimulation (ridiculous amount of eggs produced) that I had endured, I had a really good feel for when something wasn't quite right with one of my ovaries.
So I had a sono. A cyst that had been small and benign in the past was much bigger. Whether it's benign still remains to be seen. Either way, it has to be removed surgically.
This is what lies ahead so far: Another sono, surgery, 3 nights in hospital, no driving for 2 weeks, recovery for who knows how long. Meanwhile, I have 3 babies who need me and a tired, tired husband who has just had enough of all this crap. We just can't catch a break these days. We endure but, man, we've been kicked and tossed and hassled and we're just damn tired of it. We somehow laugh despite all this - such as when he said that my ovaries were causing problems yet again. After all, I was the ova-achiever. These guys (or should I say gals) just don't know when to stop.
Good thing we don't either. So, I went and washed the poop off my face and went back to work. I kissed my babies a little more tonight, hugged them a little tighter. Let's just hope that surgery is all we have to deal with now.
We're facing more poop. For those of you who know us well, you've heard about how crazy our lives have been over the last year or so. Apparently, it's time for us to endure another trial of sorts. How much of a trial is unknown at this point. I'm hoping for a small one but we'll see.
Today, I went to the doctor to see what was up with my left ovary. Most people probably can't tell where their ovary is much less whether something is unusual but, after all the IVF procedures and subsequent hyperstimulation (ridiculous amount of eggs produced) that I had endured, I had a really good feel for when something wasn't quite right with one of my ovaries.
So I had a sono. A cyst that had been small and benign in the past was much bigger. Whether it's benign still remains to be seen. Either way, it has to be removed surgically.
This is what lies ahead so far: Another sono, surgery, 3 nights in hospital, no driving for 2 weeks, recovery for who knows how long. Meanwhile, I have 3 babies who need me and a tired, tired husband who has just had enough of all this crap. We just can't catch a break these days. We endure but, man, we've been kicked and tossed and hassled and we're just damn tired of it. We somehow laugh despite all this - such as when he said that my ovaries were causing problems yet again. After all, I was the ova-achiever. These guys (or should I say gals) just don't know when to stop.
Good thing we don't either. So, I went and washed the poop off my face and went back to work. I kissed my babies a little more tonight, hugged them a little tighter. Let's just hope that surgery is all we have to deal with now.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Pause for peace
We all slowed down when the bus began to flash its lights and the stop sign moved into position. Three lanes of traffic came to a stop as small children began to descend its steps and walk to their waiting parents. I couldn't see how many children were leaving the bus but I guessed about 5 as I watched the bus jiggle and move with the eager footsteps of the children. It was taking a long time.
I looked around at all the cars stopped with me, wondering which jerk would honk their horn, which angry driver was muttering under their breath for the kids to hurry up already. Nobody made a sound, no breaks were being pumped. For a brief moment, the hostile, egocentric, drivers of Dallas restrained themselves out of their collective interest in these unknown childrens' welfare. How nice and peaceful.
I then began to wonder if these same patient drivers supported the war in Iraq or any war advocated by the Commander in Chief for that matter. Did they care about the welfare of the children in countries we invaded? Just as I was having these thoughts, I heard an NPR report about a school that had been bombed in Afghanistan. More children dead. How horrific. Isn't that awful to any human being? Shouldn't it be?
We all began to drive again and the people who were driving like jerks before had returned to their tailgaiting, cutting-off ways, and I continued on driving with my three, darling babies in the car. I couldn't help but wondered if they cared about my babies as they drove along carelessly. Maybe, unlike the bus with its flashing lights and its stop sign that forced us to notice its precious cargo, they can't see my babies. Just like the bombers didn't see the children huddled in their classroom.
Maybe it's not that we don't care. Maybe we need to be forced to pause. I would imagine many drivers would not stop for the school bus if it wasn't a law, if they wouldn't get a ticket for disobeying. Perhaps if our government encouraged diplomacy instead of war we might pause enough to care.
I looked around at all the cars stopped with me, wondering which jerk would honk their horn, which angry driver was muttering under their breath for the kids to hurry up already. Nobody made a sound, no breaks were being pumped. For a brief moment, the hostile, egocentric, drivers of Dallas restrained themselves out of their collective interest in these unknown childrens' welfare. How nice and peaceful.
I then began to wonder if these same patient drivers supported the war in Iraq or any war advocated by the Commander in Chief for that matter. Did they care about the welfare of the children in countries we invaded? Just as I was having these thoughts, I heard an NPR report about a school that had been bombed in Afghanistan. More children dead. How horrific. Isn't that awful to any human being? Shouldn't it be?
We all began to drive again and the people who were driving like jerks before had returned to their tailgaiting, cutting-off ways, and I continued on driving with my three, darling babies in the car. I couldn't help but wondered if they cared about my babies as they drove along carelessly. Maybe, unlike the bus with its flashing lights and its stop sign that forced us to notice its precious cargo, they can't see my babies. Just like the bombers didn't see the children huddled in their classroom.
Maybe it's not that we don't care. Maybe we need to be forced to pause. I would imagine many drivers would not stop for the school bus if it wasn't a law, if they wouldn't get a ticket for disobeying. Perhaps if our government encouraged diplomacy instead of war we might pause enough to care.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
To the father of my babies
He can change a diaper in the dark and snap the snaps to the horribly complicated outfits while barely awake. He does it without complaint or thanks.
We met in 1999. I was a mess and he was lonely. He held me patiently as I hesitated to trust him. He waited. I trusted.
We had fun and lots of it. We shared great friends and great times, beautiful moments. Our wedding, our honeymoon in Hawaii gave us peaceful memories that we can always look back on.
We struggled to have children and suffered losses. We looked toward the unknown together and stubbornly never gave up.
Being parents is a lot harder than we ever thought it would be. God, how we love our babies. Boy can they kick our asses. We've muscled through it together and are feeling more sure-footed and tested. We'll be ok and so will they.
He is even sexier than he was when I met him. When he rolls out of bed to feed a baby or comforts my soul in times of uncertainty and despair, he is so solidly there and reliable. He's so strong and sure and true. And, damn, he's still a hotty.
My babies are lucky to have him and I couldn't do it without him. I really could not do it without him.
I love you, honey. Happy Father's Day.
We met in 1999. I was a mess and he was lonely. He held me patiently as I hesitated to trust him. He waited. I trusted.
We had fun and lots of it. We shared great friends and great times, beautiful moments. Our wedding, our honeymoon in Hawaii gave us peaceful memories that we can always look back on.
We struggled to have children and suffered losses. We looked toward the unknown together and stubbornly never gave up.
Being parents is a lot harder than we ever thought it would be. God, how we love our babies. Boy can they kick our asses. We've muscled through it together and are feeling more sure-footed and tested. We'll be ok and so will they.
He is even sexier than he was when I met him. When he rolls out of bed to feed a baby or comforts my soul in times of uncertainty and despair, he is so solidly there and reliable. He's so strong and sure and true. And, damn, he's still a hotty.
My babies are lucky to have him and I couldn't do it without him. I really could not do it without him.
I love you, honey. Happy Father's Day.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Mindfully mindless
I have to have my wits about me. Is Dylan near anything that he shouldn't put in his mouth? What is Neil climbing on now? Why is Evan crying? Is he sleepy, hungry?
Pacing the house from one child to the next. Lifting and caressing, laying down and kissing. My back hurts and I'm bruised. Some of them are sleeping so what can I do until they wake up? I'm so tired of doing the dishes, doing laundry. What can I do for me?
Hmmmm.....
What was that? Someone crying. What now? Guess they're ok now.
What can I do for me? Maybe I can watch a show but it's boring.
Maybe I can. . .who is awake? How long until I have to go in there and get them? Is it dinner time?
Running out of time for me. The evening madness is soon to begin. Dinner, baths, storytime. Guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow for me.
Pacing the house from one child to the next. Lifting and caressing, laying down and kissing. My back hurts and I'm bruised. Some of them are sleeping so what can I do until they wake up? I'm so tired of doing the dishes, doing laundry. What can I do for me?
Hmmmm.....
What was that? Someone crying. What now? Guess they're ok now.
What can I do for me? Maybe I can watch a show but it's boring.
Maybe I can. . .who is awake? How long until I have to go in there and get them? Is it dinner time?
Running out of time for me. The evening madness is soon to begin. Dinner, baths, storytime. Guess I'll have to wait until tomorrow for me.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Star Sisters
As we sat around the pool talking and listening to one another, I paused to enjoy it. We're here together again and it feels great. Like planets in a galaxy, we each have our own orbits that take us on our individual paths but we always reunite when our orbits reconnect. I find myself wishing we could be together more often because it's so good but it's ok. I trust the fact that the heavens will bring us back together.
Our lives are very different. One of us is preparing to take one of life's biggest steps by marrying the man she loves; one lovingly yet sadly is accepting her son's departure to far away lands as he pushes for success yet struggles with life choices he has to face; one is enjoying her prime as she embraces her aspirations and those of her husband's, lovingly supporting one another; another is struggling to shed feelings of despair and exhaustion as she tries to be more than she is to her darling babes. Two new faces joined us and each brought with them their stories and blessed the night with their vitality. We shared ourselves and served one another with laughter, humility and love. As we drank in the beauty of the night, the coolness of the water, we bonded yet again and sprinkled each other with our moon dust and merriment.
My girls. My friends. My sisters of the stars. May our orbits always find each other.
Our lives are very different. One of us is preparing to take one of life's biggest steps by marrying the man she loves; one lovingly yet sadly is accepting her son's departure to far away lands as he pushes for success yet struggles with life choices he has to face; one is enjoying her prime as she embraces her aspirations and those of her husband's, lovingly supporting one another; another is struggling to shed feelings of despair and exhaustion as she tries to be more than she is to her darling babes. Two new faces joined us and each brought with them their stories and blessed the night with their vitality. We shared ourselves and served one another with laughter, humility and love. As we drank in the beauty of the night, the coolness of the water, we bonded yet again and sprinkled each other with our moon dust and merriment.
My girls. My friends. My sisters of the stars. May our orbits always find each other.
Friday, June 8, 2007
What I Can't Afford
I can't afford to be in a bad mood. I can't afford to be distracted. I can't afford to be sick. I can't afford to be angry. I can't afford to be selfish. I can't afford to be tired. I can't afford to be absent. I can't afford to be stupid. I can't afford to be sleepy. Why?
These things delay or prevent me from doing things that have to get done: physical therapy nail trimming lotion applying diaper changing tummy time doctor appointments medicine administering love giving school enrolling disciplining. (Commas intentionally left off since none of these things occur independently - they blur together and are often simultaneous.)
I'm human though so I'm in debt to my babies because I get in bad moods, get distracted, get sick, get angry, am selfish, am tired, am occasionally absent, am stupid, am sleepy.
They say that mom's need to take care of themselves in order to take care of their babies but I can't help but wonder when can I? I can't afford to.
These things delay or prevent me from doing things that have to get done: physical therapy nail trimming lotion applying diaper changing tummy time doctor appointments medicine administering love giving school enrolling disciplining. (Commas intentionally left off since none of these things occur independently - they blur together and are often simultaneous.)
I'm human though so I'm in debt to my babies because I get in bad moods, get distracted, get sick, get angry, am selfish, am tired, am occasionally absent, am stupid, am sleepy.
They say that mom's need to take care of themselves in order to take care of their babies but I can't help but wonder when can I? I can't afford to.
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Blessed to death
If my days could be described by the words that I speak more often than any others they'd be: "I'm tired."
"No, Neil."
"Stop yelling."
"Hi, sweetie."
"Do you have a poopie diaper?"
"Are you hungry?"
"Oh, God, you're heavy."
"Let's go take a nap."
"I love you soooooo much."
If my days could be described by my body language it would be:
Rubbing my eyes in exasperation
Refixing my hair to get it out of my face
Making silent screams of bad, bad words to the ceiling
Smiling my proud mama smile
Rubbing my aching back
Rubbing my messed up wrist
Pulling my damn pants up again
Grimacing
Sighing
Sighing
Sighing
Smiling eyes tearing
Sad eyes tearing
Alert, concerned eyes seeking
If my days could be described by the emotions that flood me, they'd be:
Exhaustion
Peace
Exasperation
Joy
Love
Anger
Frustration
Isolation
Confusion
Guilt
Hope
Pride
Despair
Concern
Relief
If my appearance could describe my life it would be:
Pooching mama belly
Stretch marks
Tired eyes
Smeared makeup or none at all
Messy clothes
Bad hair
Dry, cracked skin on my overwashed hands
Dirty feet
Disheveled
My words, my gestures, my emotions and my appearance describe my life as it is: chaotic and insane shit and bliss. It's such a crazy mix of good and bad that is still worth every minute. I wouldn't trade it for the world, although I'd love a fucking break. Let's face it, I've been blessed to death.
"No, Neil."
"Stop yelling."
"Hi, sweetie."
"Do you have a poopie diaper?"
"Are you hungry?"
"Oh, God, you're heavy."
"Let's go take a nap."
"I love you soooooo much."
If my days could be described by my body language it would be:
Rubbing my eyes in exasperation
Refixing my hair to get it out of my face
Making silent screams of bad, bad words to the ceiling
Smiling my proud mama smile
Rubbing my aching back
Rubbing my messed up wrist
Pulling my damn pants up again
Grimacing
Sighing
Sighing
Sighing
Smiling eyes tearing
Sad eyes tearing
Alert, concerned eyes seeking
If my days could be described by the emotions that flood me, they'd be:
Exhaustion
Peace
Exasperation
Joy
Love
Anger
Frustration
Isolation
Confusion
Guilt
Hope
Pride
Despair
Concern
Relief
If my appearance could describe my life it would be:
Pooching mama belly
Stretch marks
Tired eyes
Smeared makeup or none at all
Messy clothes
Bad hair
Dry, cracked skin on my overwashed hands
Dirty feet
Disheveled
My words, my gestures, my emotions and my appearance describe my life as it is: chaotic and insane shit and bliss. It's such a crazy mix of good and bad that is still worth every minute. I wouldn't trade it for the world, although I'd love a fucking break. Let's face it, I've been blessed to death.
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