What matters most

This has always been one of my favorite William Carlos Williams poems (although I also love '13 ways of Looking at a Blackbird.')--
Both reflect on perspective.  This one elevates the simple to the extraordinary, something I'd like to do if there were less noise in my head.

Poem #83- The Red Wheelbarrow


so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow


glazed with rain

water


beside the white

chickens.

-- William Carlos Williams

35

It's been a year and so much has changed and so much is the same.

My brother who spent my last birthday calling me from the psych ward is gone now.  Twice today the phone rang with male well-wishers who I thought might be him, even before I'd read this old post.  Funny, because he never really acknowledged my birthday, but I thought about him and talked about him quite a bit today.  And I missed him, the him I knew, the him I would miss...not the him that he was at the end of his life.  But I am sad nonetheless when I think of him.

And Elliot will have another eye surgery in a couple of weeks...just like we were awaiting last year.  It's fascinating to look back at these posts...otherwise, I don't think I'd have a clue when all of these events happen.

How's my birthday going?  Well, I woke up this morning and had a complete meltdown after the 10th "Mommy, mommy" requesting something.  Despite the lovely cake and many surprises...I'm reaching the edge of my capacity for this life of glorified servitude, and need to make a concerted effort to dedicate time for my own needs and desires.  The necessity of that was never more obvious to me than after my over-reaction to my daughter's own meltdown about her school clothes.  As I drove to Elliot's field trip, I asked myself several times, "Why are you even going to this thing?  Spend today on you, crazy woman."  And then I looked in my rearview mirror, where I could see Elliot talking about the things he saw through the window, and knew that his first ride on a school bus, and his big smile would be better salve for my soul than any foot rub I could buy.  So I went on with the plan, to ride over to the pumpkin patch, and saw in so many smiles of these children that their joy can be so easily transfered, and that I should receive it, so genuinely given, as the true joy of my life...being around children, my own and others...

I need to strike a balance between the routines of giving, seemingly endless, between work, and home...and my own desires to do so very much--to volunteer, chaperone, build that puzzle, go on the play date, plan the party, paint the picture, blah, blah, blah...and just be, by myself, and be still.  I need this time to tap into my own wishes and desires, to grieve for my brother, to plan with my husband, to dream for my children, to listen to myself, and love who I see, inadequate but hopeful.

And in this same stillness, I hope to find the capacity to give more...to enjoy my parents as they enter the last stage of their lives, and to be more present to all of the love that surrounds my daily life through friendships, family, and community.  My best birthday gift today was my cousin Becky telling me that she and her 3 siblings all consider me a sibling...this, when I've lately felt so much like the only child...I have so much in this exuberant, crazy life that is so perfect in it's dysfunction.  And I am grateful for it all.  I want the calm of mind to enjoy it all...that is my birthday wish.

A bit whipped.

I don't know how long I can keep up this pace I've set for myself-

These days, I'm working 7-2:30 (feeding, pumping, & the rest of it beforehand). I used to sleep until 8 (bless Kevin for making breakfast) so this is a big change.

All in all, I like getting out so early, but with the preschool full of children until our oldest ones go to camp, I'm taking my two home when I leave at 2:30...preparing snack, planning an afternoon of activities--usually including some art experience, some science experience, one walk, backyard, 30 minutes of cartoon during dinner prep, and then, what used to be my only tasks after picking up the kids: cooking, cleaning, bathing, reading, and trying not to go insane while my children take turns needing everything when they are supposed to be sleeping. I am definitely feeling the "second shift" here, like I'm working two jobs. Elliot's energy and attention span are particularly trying...he runs from one thing to the next, and wears me out. I can't leave him in a room unattended unless the TV is on. He will find the one hazard slash danger slash fragile slash important thing to mutilate/spill/put in his mouth/destroy/take apart. And Kev's only home 2 nights a week now, and bedtime has sunken into the lowest pits of hell. All three kids are needing me and getting up and crying and teething and losing teeth and complaining about my parenting and waking up the child that just fell asleep and crying for their daddy when I feel like doing the exact same thing. Did I mention Ol's eating through the night?

And between the kindergarten apps, queries about summer camp, and work-related frustrations, I feel knackered. I was so very ready to throw my hands up on Friday, but tried something breathing, and put things in perspective. Here's what's going to get me to my vacation:

• Hearing - I'm now a part of the CMV community. Often I find it challenging to participate in these forums...our Elliot seems to be higher functioning than many cases (or at least the ones on the forum). The stories and challenges that some face are sobering. And sometimes, I feel them defeating me...with Elliot's tube coming out, I was convinced he was losing hearing in that ear. Hearing screen Thursday revealed that Elliot's hearing in his left ear hasn't changed since he was 6 months old. *whew*. I can't stop whispering to him, and enjoying his wide-eyes as he whispers a response. My focus on creating positive networks (yes, of typically developing children, mostly) has served us well. I'm not opposed to widening our circle, but in general, need other optimistic, realistic, and enjoyable people around me. I have ALWAYS been supported by my friends and family.
• Kindergarten - Ana is seen as a perfect fit at a program that I see as a perfect fit (curriculum-wise). I feel good about my search for a good school for her, and how it helped me "see" my child.
• Camp - I managed to find and afford a wonderful summer for Ana. This was eleventh hour insanity and some groveling, but she'll be with other peers having an amazing summer!
• Vacation... - It's finally coming together, and I feel good for throwing myself into the contest so wholly. I'm looking forward to that break when it comes!

Is it any wunda???(cue David Bowie) that I have found a collection of gray wiley hairs growing? I plucked 4 of them to Ana's fascination on the way to Bay St. Louis yesterday, and yet, there always seemed to be more. Things are just plain nuts right now but there's a lot of good beneath it all...and I've made some good things happen too, maybe at my own expense. But let me tell you people, that cabana boy better invest in a new pair of huarachi's (sp?) and stock up on some paper umbrellas cause mama's gonna have him walking some holes in his shoes with the fruity drinks come May.

Of cementing teeth

I find myself struggling with one of my fundamental parenting beliefs coming to light. I've often said, maybe too casually, that "parenting is the process of letting go of your children over time."

Easy to say when two of my young children are essentially under my direct supervision every day, as charges in the childcare center I direct. They've been right there, with me, the Fly on the Wall, who'd buzz loudly when things could be better or different.

But things are definitely changing from within, and from without. I'm gonna need someone to hold my hand.

In this, the year that I turn 35,
-My oldest daughter will go to kindergarten. There was a dawning of her growth into another phase of her childhood around her 5th birthday last December. Despite the elongating of her features, and changing of her body, it was the cake with the bold number FIVE on it that screamed to me, "She's growing up, dummy!" Every day, just growing up. Around this whole period, I've learned so much about her...looking at SO many kindergartens that just wouldn't fit. I could feel their academic preparedness squeezing the creativity, and imagination, and Ana-ness out of her. Beyond the fear of not making the right choice for my little one, there is the fear of the move into big school itself. The move away from me, my eyes, my influence. Into a space that's all about her.

-This daughter of mine has lost a tooth. And the one next to it is wiggling. This was the tooth we watched grow a millimeter at a time. The one we celebrated, photographed, showed off, and brushed...the lone inhabitant of her gummy baby grin. I would rather her have cavities, I think, than proudly display the whole in her smile where her "baby tooth" used to be.

-My youngest boy, our wonderful surprise, has a tooth coming up in the same spot where Ana's jus fell out. And the tooth next to it is crowning. This is the tooth that we are watching grow, one millimeter at a time. The one we will celebrate, and photograph, show off and brush...the lone inhabitant of his gummy baby grin. *Sigh* Do you see where this is all leading?

-And my son Elliot, our lover and our fighter, will likely go to a program for 4 year-olds. He will be placed with typical 4 year old children in a school with a special needs preschool, in case he struggles too much. His teachers will have his IEP, and I'm to trust that it will be implemented. I will put him in the car, and I will bring him to his classroom, and I will leave him there for the day. Hopefully, someone will tell me what kind of day he had, what he learned, what therapies were implemented, if he made a friend. And I'm to trust that he is treated with compassion, that he will not be teased or harmed, that when he's stuck, someone will help him. When he can't hear, someone will notice. When he is sad, someone will care. The drive away from this place? I don't think I can make. I think I will be in the bushes, or apply to be the cafeteria lady. Almost everything I've done since Elliot has been about Elliot. And now, there he goes. And please don't tell me he'll be fine. And please don't tell me "parenting is slowly letting go of your children," because I won't be able to control my tongue. I don't know if I can let that baby go. I really really don't.

So what do I do, when cementing their teeth won't change this: they are growing, and moving slowly away from me. There is a hole in my smile.

Don't forget to Breathe

The blogging contest was an amazing experience for our family. I had no idea that 677 people would read that post, and vote for us. The power of Facebook (and lots of friends pressuring their friends) was actually awe-inspiring. And at the end, I know it's a small thing...but we really felt, and appreciate the love.

All that warm and fuzzy gooeyness was replaced by sheer exhaustion yesterday, when I realized that 1pm Saturday was really the only time I'd see Kevin all weekend until Monday night. What exactly is the point of a weekend, I ask? I would much rather work 7 days a week. I know this isn't Kevin's fault, and don't blame him, but it exhausts me. The prospect of leaving the house? Yeah, right...Absolutely insane while Elliot runs with abandon as far as he can AWAY (this is just a phase, right? PLease tell me it is). I was just bitter, and angry. And when I'm angry, I don't even whine. I generally just seethe while accomplishing everyday tasks...

Seething Emmy washing lots of sharp knives, for example
or
Seething Emmy tying shoes
or
Seething Emmy trying to get this god-foresaken &*#@ grass-stain out of the *()$# Jeans!!!

You get the picture.

And until I called Holly, without remotely hinting at my sorry-for-myself state, who invited me over for yummy tofu chili, in a place where it's OK for El to run with abandon. And Paul hung out with the littles (El and Kate) while Holly and I went to the La Divina Gelateria art show, and sat and talked with other adults, and actually felt sane.

I forget to ask for help, or maybe that's still something I'm trying to work on. I know I have lots of great friends, I just need to get better at reaching out when I need support. Thanks for a lovely evening Holly (and Paul!), on so many levels. You may have shaved years of therapy off of my children.

Beneath that tough exoskeleton, I'm all SCORPIO

courtesy of Wikipedia

Astrologers assign personality traits to the signs. Although astrologers differ in some of their interpretations for the signs, the following traits are more prevalent in association with Scorpio. Note that no scientific research thus far has been able to prove such correlation.

(How many of these traits do you think apply?)

Intense
Powerful, tough
Determined. tenacious and persevering
Emotional, sensitive
Appearing cool and calm, but seething underneath (I LOVE this one!)
Reserved, withdrawn
Secretive
Deep, profound
Revengeful (if hurt), unforgiving
Passionate
Loyal, devotional
Ambitious
Extreme
Willful / fanatical
Mysterious / magnetically attractive / exciting
Deeply resentful, brooding, potentially destructive

Scorpio is the Zodiac sign that indicates the deepest interest in sexual matters, and for most Scorpios, sex is an expression of love.

hmmm....we'll have to talk about it on Po-Ke-No night (I got the pokeno cards!)!

To Give and Recieve Love

I recently shared with a good friend of mine that I am slowly realizing the difficulty I have with enjoying the love I receive from others. This has heightened my awareness of my reactions and responses to love in all its forms around a season when love comes in a variety of forms from pastry bags or jewelry boxes or sweetly delivered cards or thoughtful comments.

When I think of my most recent history with love, my experience with Elliot and his diagnosis were a real turning point. Up until that point, I participated outwardly in my relationships with others but rarely did I open myself up in a vulnerable way that was true and honest, and relied on the other person keeping my heart as safe as I would. Is this typical Scorpio?

Elliot's diagnosis, and our sudden dependence on a support network of paraprofessionals and doctors, family, friends and each other opened my heart in a way that I didn't know was possible. I learned that being vulnerable and embracing my challenges and trusting others with my fears helped me to feel stronger. That I was able to borrow from their hope, and their faith in me to bolster myself for the next part of the path. Through them (you), and through the love and spirit of our son, I experienced a beauty and honesty that brought me great joy, and deep love. Kevin and I can hardly speak of the love that we've experienced these last few years without tears.

In general, motherhood has made me acutely aware of one thing: Someone loves me as much as I love these children. My mother feels this way about me. (It completely boggles my mind).

Somewhat naively, I've thought myself to be rather open to the love out there. However, a few weeks ago, a gift sent me on the next part of my journey.

When I unwrapped the beautiful portrait of Oliver, drawn from a photograph that Holly herself had taken, I was dumbfounded. There among the styrofoam peanuts, the most wonderful gift I had ever received. I was struck by the beauty and accuracy of the drawing, of the time it took to create such a gift, by the very idea that a friend would think of our family in this way. And as I shared this with everyone I saw that day, I continued to feel the surprise that I was that special to someone I feel is that special.

The gift made me reflective of a reoccuring internal struggle I feel. In my work, with the most appreciative and civically active parents on the planet, I find myself often on the receiving end of complements, mystery surprises on my desk, and even what could be classified as love notes. Almost all of these are kindnesses related to the school I direct. I think up until that gift, I've never really believed any of it. Partly because I know that of any place on earth, AH is the result of so many collaborators: parents, teachers, and yes, me. Founding parents who've gone, wait list parents who never were, substitute teachers with graph pads sketching a new layout for the place, you name it! I feel that I am a part of that. But it's certainly not because of me, and it's certainly not mine. (And PU-Leeze, do not argue this point with me via comments).

I'd simply let these kind words roll over me, smiling, thinking Just who do they think I am? In general, I'm pretty hard on myself...When I mentioned my discomfort to my Kevin, he said to me, those people are all pretty smart honey. I don't think you have them fooled. I think they see you for who you are. And yes, they love you.

Well, I couldn't debate that "those people" are all really smart. Why did this bother me, these gestures, this love? And after reading a recent comment about "what a good job your (I'm) doing"...not related to work, I think) and feeling my inner twitch, I realized that it's me, and my issue. I'm continuing to get in my own way. I don't know why that is. (I might need a professional with a couch). But I don't really care to dig. I just know that I don't want that voice anymore that tells me I'm not worthy of it.

I'm beginning the next part of my journey to a happier and healthier life by allowing myself to accept love, and let it enter my heart, and become a more open person. Each of you has so much to teach me... I believe that we are all teachers, and thankfully, I'm in a place and a time in my life when all the teachers are positive and inspiring and thoughtful. I know deep and abiding love and happiness are already around me, which, in and of itself is pretty astounding. I just need to open my eyes and heart, and put the cynic to sleep. I'm really ready to live my best life.

Helloooooo!

Good for the mind, body, and spirit:

A hellooooo to every passer-by when riding Molly.

Medusa vs. Orajel

Mama, which one is worse, your tooth cracked or Medusa?

Pick one.

Hmmm. It's a toss up.

And for the record, I don't think it's an old wives' tale that you lose a tooth with each child (2 out of 3).

Day Two of a New Year

If I were to spend the next year as I have the last two days, I would:

• wake up early to ride my new bike
• bake yummy breads
• drink sangria with friends while dancing to Elvis in a living room filled with children
• Oooh and Aaaah at the skies over Harahan
• listen to Ana's compositions and songs on Elliot's new guitar (Your heart is delicious as a blueberry. Oh yea. It's true. This one was a strange bedfellow to accompany my latest teen pulp craze, the Twilight series).
• kiss my love just because "it's time."
• smile through gritted teeth at my daughter's apparent accident
• explain the calendar for the fourth time
• talk with Oliver and enjoy every coo and twinkle and now, guffaw.
• take the ferry with old friends (xoxo Niki and Sage)
• watch street performers in the quarter
• clean up another mucusy throw-up from Elliot (ENT second opinion coming).
• stare at the swirling Mississippi with bits of a Langston Hughes poem rattling in my head
• eat crab rangoon in our pjs
• get Elliot from under the house (again)
• start new traditions (does two years running a tradition make?). New Years at Renee's house in Harahan is so much fun!

I could deal with some more of that (except for the obvious frustrations), but these are some of the things I'd like to do in the new year:

1. Write thoughtfully. My blog is, generally speaking, a collection of first drafts, and acts as a journal for me. I'm very comfortable composing in type, and rarely even rewrite before I hit "publish post." Often, as I write, my word use or sentence structure isn't exactly what I'd like, but I suppress those voices to just get it out on paper in my limited time. I don't expect that to change, but I'm going to try.

The second part of this goal is to write a book. I'm hesitant to put that here, but Kevin and I have been talking for the last year about what makes us happy, and what do we want from this life. We are both working on making a plan that will enable to spend our days the way we want to, even if we always do the work we do and live in this city. I have always loved telling children stories (orally) and love spinning yarns. There are several stories that I would like to share of my own life, of my mother's, of my husband's too. So I don't know what will come out of this focused attention on what I'd like to get out there. But I have purchased a small notebook for the purpose of writing down ideas. And I have approached one friend who is an artist about a possible collaboration (with a plan to approach two other artist-friends). I'm curious to see if something comes of this.

2. Get active, physically and civicly. Well, I'm hoping to carve out regular time for exercise. I just feel happier. And even though I quit my board position with a local merchant's group (it felt good to say NO, eo), I need to learn more about the rights of children with special needs and what I should expect of my child's educational experience. I need some schooling. I plan to attend several Families Helping Families seminars to learn more.

3. Make time with Kevin. I love my husband. I want to connect with him more.

4. Say thank you. In the last few years, I've become bad at sending thank you notes (and ironically, have had more to thank folks for than ever). Sometimes they get written and put in a pile, only to be discovered months later. Sometimes, I mentally kick myself for months every time I see the person. Sometimes, I think about it so much I'm pretty sure months later that I sent the note out. If you fall into this last category, please forgive me. But I'm starting fresh, and hope to become really efficient. (I need to stock up on some supplies). It's not because it's a burden to write these quick notes...and this should have come first (but I never edit)...I feel very blessed for each random act of love that comes our way, for the amazing place I work, for the thoughtfulness of friends, for the value of relationship...and more of my time should be spent reflecting on this richness and acknowledging it.

So there they are. Just a few. I'm wishing each of you a healthy, happy new year full of belly laughs!

Brown paper packages tied up with string

This year, Santa brought me a great surprise that I didn't know I needed so much.

When I awoke at 5 am on Christmas morning, there was a bike. Not the one we'd expected Santa to bring for Ana (that one was there too). But a big bike. For me.

When our shed was broken into last year, my mountain bike was stolen. I hadn't ridden in much post-K (post-Kids), although I occasionally put them in the wagon and took them for a ride or to work/school.

This bike was not a replacement of that one. This one exceeds any expectation one should have for such a mechanism.

It's a vintage-style cruising bicycle, the kind you ride with your head high in the wind as you smile at the passers-by with a how-do-you-do. It's a powder-blue metallic sheen white-wall tire-d love machine,

and when we ride I feel a delicious cheesy poem working inside.

OKAY. Enough groaning. I'll stop there.

This bike in the last days when I haven't been blogging has been so wonderful for my spirit. Yesterday I rode it to work, and then down Oak St, to the commercial lane of the bank (to the great amusement of the tellers there, and the security guard emptying the ATM), and down Maple St to get the latest in my juvie-lit series addiction, and the whole time, I felt like the little happy girl inside of me, free from worry and full of love.

The bike is a reminder of my days as an exchange student in Holland where I rode my bike with my new friends everywhere (and in every condition). Through dark streets we'd ride, smoking cigarettes (yes) and telling stories, or in the case of one unrequited love, we'd sing more songs than a jukebox, pausing together at the instrumental bits (them playing in our heads), cycling closer at the grand finales, nearly crashing into heaps of metal, laughing all the while. We'd cycle out to bars to play games of backgammon, served with coffee and a shot (at the Blaue Haand), or sometimes to school (ha!), or to each other's flats...almost as good as where we were going was the getting there. The excitement of being where we were, of making new friends from around the world, of having no worries...How could that feeling reverberate through the air when I'm on this bike? I guess it's been in me all this time, I just haven't felt it in quite a while.

Thank you, Santa.

YES. It's THAT bike. Santa really nailed it. And if a fool-hardy villian should hear it calling, he'd better turn and walk away. Because this time, I WILL find her and take her back.

Oh yes, ideas for names are being accepted.

34

Today is my birthday. I finish the day feeling a bit overwhelmed and quite tired.
It's been a mixed bag:
Equal parts surprise and pain- flowers from my co-workers delivered to me in my jammies, hand-made cards from my favorite preschoolers, homemade chocolate cake and delicious Thai lunch with my hubby, and other thoughtful gestures throughout the day...

And in between all those happy moments there was my brother, struggling with being the possibility of being committed for the second time in as many weeks, calling from the psych ward, crying parents, hearts breaking (no one wanting to tell me anything to spare me on "my day.").

Ending the day waiting 3 hours for a doctor to perform a delicate surgery on my lil' El tomorrow.
I hope the rest of the year is more surprise than pain. I feel a year older already.

Birth Day

In a few hours, here you will be, and our lives will never be the same.
I thought to myself with your arrival, the mystery will be revealed but in truth, you'll reveal yourself to us during your life...each day we spend with you will deepen who we know you to be.
And we will love you. Each sparkle, each piccadillo, will be perfectly you. I CAN'T WAIT to look into your eyes today, baby.

I am grateful. It's an amazing gift to share a life with a child, and here we are again. A wealth of riches I never knew I'd see in my life. Thank you, God, for sending us this blessing. Please continue to guide us as parents, as people, and keep this baby safe today and always.

Switching Gears

A complete melt-down on the couch was the only way through my pity party at being 37 weeks pregnant, 3 years post-K, and evacuating from the next storm. I've tried too hard to keep my emotions in check, and of course, Mama tears means Ana fears: she peppered me with stuffed animals on every part and several blankets. Two Oreos for good measure.

Until my sob-fest, I was generally p-od about evacuating, and seethed with every mention Kevin made of going to the beach, and making the most of it. The very thing that I love about this man was completely maddening. I usually need his ying to my yang, but this time, just once, I wanted him to say, "It's not safe for us to venture too far away. Let's do X, and so-and-so will take care of the kids if you go into labor, and this will be our plan if X happens." Of course, this has never been and never will be, my husband.

I wish I could say that finances hasn't been playing a secret role in our struggle to decide, but it has. With maternity leave beckoning, and an invisible savings, the thought of an impromptu vacation seemed irresposible and reckless. So given some tips from our saavy friend, Holly, who negotiated our Ft Walton Beach accomodations for a song, I got online to negotiate directly with condo owners in the hopes that someone could give us a reduced rate at a relaxing locale.

vrbo.com was the site we hit. Lists of room descriptions, availability, and photos, and links directly to the owners for your negotiating needs. Holly shared that she had told them about her family, pointed them to her blog, etc. Given my recent online rants, I didn't point anyone to the blog, but told them about mine and Kevin's work, our kids, and my pregnancy. Within the hour, we'd received 4 phone calls. One with an offer we could neither refuse or believe. A condo owner on Navarre Beach was willing to have us stay at his condo for 3 nights for the cleanup fee. That's $90 people. George Georgiou is his name, and he's the chair of the Make A Wish Foundation, to which we'll be making a donation in his name.

And so, where am I now? I'm remembering the good that Katrina brought me. How it was an opportunity to be vulnerable and needy, and truly experience the kindness and beauty of people. And thanks to Mr. Georgiou, I feel my heart opening again, right when I'm tempted to be cynical, and angry and give up. I'm grateful at his reminder of how these situations bring us closer to each other, and that, is worth fighting for. I know I can go away, and I think, after this random act of love, I think I can come back too.

Gratefully yours,

Emmy

Downshifting

After my anemia scare, and some serious self-analysis, Kevin and I made the painful decision to spend a few days at the beach(-; We joined our gracious hosts, Paul, Holly & the crew, and brought our own two beach bums to Fort Walton Beach, FL and it was worth every gas station-bathroom run along the way.

Automatic playmates for the kids, great company for us grown-ups, luxurious accomodations at the Waterscape (SUPER amenities for children, esp.), impeccable weather=paradise!

By the way, has anyone ever seen a sea slug? Holding and playing with one in the bluegreen gulf waters was definitely a highlight for me.

And just as relaxing: returning to work with things running smoothly, and the assistant director relishing her role as my replacement. I really feel like I can go have a baby now.

Tomorrow, baby O is 36 weeks! It feels like it's happening so fast all of a sudden. But believe me, I'm ready.

Monkey Brain

If my friend describes Monkey Brain as having chatter streaming nonstop like ticker tape through one's mind, I have to wonder what to term my addled emotional state these days.

This week is tricky for me.

• Each morning, I start by reading the Times Picayune 8 part series on the murder of my former student, Lance Zarders. Details of his death, his parents' pain, and bits about his life and dreams mean soggy cereal. I'm still quite angry, but mostly just very very sad. Lance had so much to offer. How do his parents cope?
• Elliot turns three on Saturday. I'm terrible at my kids' birthdays. Each passing year makes me long to turn back the clock, and do it all again. But even harder this year, even more difficult with this birthday, is the fact that Elliot will age out of Early Steps...the program that has his therapists and support team in his school, or at home, and in constant dialogue about what he's doing, how he's growing, what he needs to continue. I have been dreading the day El would age out since we first began his therapies at age 6 months. Now, not only are the training wheels off for us, as parents, but what do we do now? How do we meet his needs and find program(s) that meet his needs, and ensure that what he's been doing is meeting his needs, and still give him a childhood that's not defined by a series of weekly appointments? The anxiety of What Now? had me crying in the arms of his preschool teachers today, as I wondered aloud what the best choice might be, if we could be the best choice. They couldn't have handled it any better: Just tell us what he needs, tell us what to do. We can do it. We want to do it. We love Elliot. Now how do I say goodbye to his therapists, who are honestly like angels to us, who have shaped our parenting, our dreams for our child, our belief in his potential, our hope... I don't know. I've needed them as much as he has.
• This week has begun my work to prepare my little school for life without me as I go have this baby, and spend his first months at home. This week, before Professional Development Week, I'm in hyper-OCD mode. Well, my work-related fears seem silly after all my Elliot fears, but the truth is I'm trying to address every possible scenario that I need to anticipate someone else handling. Yes, I have another 6 weeks. That's both comforting and scary. My work is like my third (soon fourth) child. A child I want to be sure thrives and grows in the next year.
• Stressed-out, physically weary, emotional mom + one sweet girl, anxious herself because of mom's changes, and upcoming baby + one defiant boy, whose (ploys for attention with new baby?) newest tricks all include doing the exact opposite of what stressed out mom says + doting husband whose always working when I'm not = short fuse.
• A back that goes out, a hip that's sometimes numb, a GI system that's frequently emitting acid into my mouth, a belly that keeps moving most of the day, and feet that are (egad!) beginning to swell like rosy mangoes...

Bright spot today: getting a hair cut (complete with the temple and head massage) that always makes me feel good. I definitely need to carve in ME time over the next weeks. I'm afraid of who I'll be if I don't.

Bah!

I'm grumpy, confused, tired, and uncomfortable.

I can't even lie well about how I'm doin these days.

That's why I LOVED this blog post so much today.

It's all up for grabs!

My days, these days, are a menagerie of these kinds of thoughts:

• What do I want to do with my life?
• Where in the world could we live and have adequate social services without working our fingers to the bone?
• Possible future homes: Italy, random farm house, Caribbean beach (Belize, should Kev have his way)
• Possible future jobs: Ebay sales, Early Steps Coordinator, school teacher, donation coordination for Honduran foundation, stay-at-home mama/homeschooler
• Possible pursuits in higher ed: MBA, MEd
• How can we simplify our lives--work less, have more time for each other, and have a good quality of life.

Does this have all the makings of several info-mercials?

Is it just that point in my pregnancy, or am I at a crossroads in my life, where I am full of questions about my life-how much I work, where we live, what my children deserve?

I am ill at ease. How can I shape my path to reflect how much my family, our path, mean to me?

Water Works

They can strike at any time--while driving, holding a child, sitting and reading...seemingly without provocation. Can I blame my recent cry-fests on hormones? A highly emotional state in general? I don't know, but I can't say that I mind my tears terribly. They usually come after some time reflecting on my life, the lives of others, their impact on me, etc. Some recent examples:

• After reading a Leonard Pitts op-ed about his 17 year-old daughter graduating from high school; I didn't think it particularly well-written, nor did I even know half of the songs he alluded to in the "soundtrack" of this time in his life, but I couldn't help think of my own little girl, how quickly she's growing, our tender moments each day, and how utterly beautiful she is to me.
• Saying goodbye to 4 and 5 year-olds going to camp, kindergarten and beyond. Ok, ok, anyone who knows me is aware that I've cried through every promotion of any child I've ever taught in the last 10 years, but add to that 10 other little ones singing "You are my Sunshine" and having to speak publicly (ie, reading a little certificate), then you can just imagine the blubbering.
• Thinking of Elliot and how hard his journey seemed to me, how much he's grown, how many people love him, and how inspired I feel by him. His life has made me such a better person, and I'm blessed to share in his life, and wake up to his smile every day.
• A friend who struggles so much right now. I think of her often and tears come. I think of her words of comfort to me, when I was struggling with CT scans and mysterious, scary-sounding diagnoses, and how I didn't believe her when she said it would get easier, that in a year, we'd be ok. She was so right, but her words to me felt dismissive, made me angry. I wish I could ease her pain.
• The realization that I will one day lose my mother. She's healthy and well, now. But lately, feeling surrounded by life and death, thinking of not having her around, and how hollow I will feel is real to me for some reason right now. Each time she calls me, I feel extra connected, and extra happy that she is right there. I think of a friend whose lost her mom recently, of how real her pain is, of how she struggles each day. I'm afraid of a pain so deep.
  
• Bringing Ana to camp just for a week. Leaving her with folks I don't know at all, who were rather nonchalant made me feel like a hover parent. Picking her up became the joy of my day. For a week. What will I do when she goes to kindergarten???
  
• Our lives. Yes, all of it just made me cry. On the way back from vacation, between snorts, and sniffles, I told Kevin that I'm very happy. That he makes me happy. That he's a wonderful husband, friend, lover, father. That while I feel like we are always struggling, we have so very much to be thankful for. And I just cried and cried. And he was probably incredibly grateful to be driving, and having to watch the road as his hormonal wife turned three shades of beet, sobbing on I-10 on the way home from the beach.
  

I'm sure to the emotionally reserved this sounds nuts. But honestly, taking some time to think about it all has been so good for me. It's good to be alive, to feel, to have love.

Jazz Fest

Kevin and I are off to Jazz Fest this morning with Jim, back from Guinea. It's very exciting.

I've been struggling with whether or not to take Ana. I'd love to see her boogie down, and see the sights.

Why do I struggle so much with just doing something for myself? I've had this plan to go alone or with friends today since last week, but then saw pics and heard stories of my friends with their kids at the fest, and had this longing to share the whole thing with Ana and Elliot. Even though I KNOW how much their presence will alter how long we go, how long we can actually sit and listen to anything, and our general ability to relax. And just thinking of bringing only Ana unleashes a lot of guilt, but Elliot is so into everything, and is so fast, it's non-stop running to keep up with him. Kevin and I have actually talked about those terrible kid-leashes that I loathe...but that, these days, would seem like a godsend. I'm scared to think of what he'd do at the Fest. And no, we're not getting the leash thing.

I feel I need to justify--last week, we went to Zoo to Do. Now THAT was a fest for kids. And next week, we'll go to the beach, and honor their every whim. But honestly, that shouldn't matter.

Mama's gonna go to Jazz Fest alone today, ok kids? I promise not to have too much fun.