Saturday, March 26, 2011

The ABCs of Me (borrowed from Loribeth)

Happy Saturday. I'm entertaining myself for the day now that I've dropped M off at a far less fun location. Chilling at a St*rf*cks waiting for the Ikea to open. Despite the annoying chatty mommies next to me (yes I drop my kid of with his own food each day but it's not because I don't trust them....I'm not as bad as that other mom....) and the couple planning their wedding with their photographer that are just far too fresh faced for my jaded self, I can certainly think of worse ways to spend my morning.

Ikea, you are in my sights. Soon, your bins and aisles of goodness shall be mine.

In the meantime, I could kick out some work tasks, or.......

I could spend some time with yins. I saw this over at Loribeth's Rood Less Traveled and it made me smile. So I thought I'd give it a go. I think you should to.

A. Age: 36. Shit.

B. Bed size: King. A treat to ourselves in the midst of our fertility madness. It is so luscious I am far less inclined to spend the night elsewhere.

C. Chore you dislike: laundry. doing the dishes. vacuuming. Was I supposed to choose one?

D. Dogs: None that live with us. 3 that we adore: Jeter, Ali, Sophie. Standard poodles. Silver, black, white. 2 girls. 1 boy. Their unconditional love and lack of expectations got us through our darkest days. Jeter's getting older. Don't mention his age or you will see a grown man get teary in public places at the thought of him not being here.

E. Essential start to your day: sleepy morning full body hug from M.

F. Favorite color: orange.

G. Gold or silver: neither, but I do like big jangly things, things on leather ropes, earthy, jewel-ly, anything my pal S.S. gets me

H. Height: 5'5" I swear. Don't listen to M.

I. Instruments you play(ed): bass guitar. briefly. Very. I taught myself scales, a couple of Pixies riffs and that was about as far as it got.

J. Job title: Communications Director

K. Kids: Isobel. Jovita. And I wish they were here.

L. Live: in an apartment that I love in a small city, overlooking the river that almost did me in.

M. Mom’s name: MaryAnn

N. Nicknames: lots

O. Overnight hospital stays: splenectomy, gall bladder removal, birthing the girls. There may be more but that's what I can remember right now. Pretty sure they wanted to hospitalize in Poland when I had walking pneumonia but I said no flipping way.

P. Pet peeves: lots. I mean, lots. People that walk around with their mouths open make me crazy. What's up, dude? Catching flies?

Q. Quote from a movie: meaning, one that M and I quote and re-quote on a near daily basis? Easy:

R. Righty or lefty: Righty.

S. Siblings: Younger brother I grew up with. Twin 18-yr old bio brothers I am just getting to know.

T. Time you wake up: 6:45 am. Unless I'm meeting A. for a run, then 5:50 am.

U. Underwear: these. One in every color and then some. They rock.

V. Vegetables you don’t like: brussel sprouts. But maybe I've just never had them made other than boiled into mushy submission.

W.What makes you run late: Good question. And one my husband asks me every. day.

X. X-rays you’ve had: teeth, head, chest, pelvis, knee. If CT and bone scans count then there is no part of my body someone hasn't seen inside out.

Y. Yummy food you make: ahem, I don't mean to brag, but um, I'm a pretty awesome cook. And Isa Chandra Moskowitz is my new goddess and inspiration. Our repertoire has taken an awesome vegan turn. My specialties include: vegan pizza/flatbreads; burritos (homemade tortillas and guac, of course); dips of every color and kung pao anything-in-my-fridge.

Z. Zoo animal favorites: none. Not a big zoo gal, but drop me off at an aquarium and I will walk around with my mouth open for hours. Ooooh....

See? It's fun! Now do it! (and tell me so I can sneak a peek into your great lives.)

Monday, March 21, 2011

In a parallel universe

This day belongs to two beautiful, rambunctious, unique little girls. Who would be turning two.

Happy would-be birthday, Isobel.

Happy would-be birthday, Jovita.

We love your names.
We love your faces.
We love your essence.

Love. Just love.

Perfect Moment Monday - Fam

Because it's Monday. And I haven't done it in a while. Here's an update on the home front:

Last week's explosion left me feeling vindicated....for one hot minute. And then it just left me sad and tired from kicking someone when they are already down. I tried to put myself in my mom's shoes - displaced, still healing, completely reliant on other people and their care, unsure of what my husband's condition really is. In other words, helpless. And then I went and told her she was a sucky mom.

Whether or not I was right, I just didn't like how all of that made me feel.

So I tried to mend it.

I set up a lunch date for Sunday. And while I was at it, I made a little bit of an effort (as opposed to the zero that I clocked during the pregnancy) when I went to pick her up to pay attention to my cousin's new baby (who, dammit, is pretty cute) and to focus on their joy rather than the ouches in my own heart. I could tell it was appreciated.

Lunch went well. Neither of us mentioned the explosion. We didn't have to. Our meanness was spent. Now its time to move forward and try to figure out what the heck to do with dad. It was a nice afternoon. And I went home feeling lighter than when I started (except for that mound of Ol*ve G*rden pasta in my belly).

On to dad:

After much car wrangling, I made my way down to DE last Monday with my brother's (gonna be) souped up Honda while he worked on dad's non-starting minivan that I left behind.

And loved every bass-bumping, muffler rumbling, all-of-these-modifications-are-probably-illegal ride.

After a pleasant evening with dad on the couch watching TV, where he actually tried to understand what I do for a living (I still don't think he gets it but he tried. That's what matters.) we had what I thought was as good a consultation with a new doctor in a new hospital with a brand new cancer institute could be.

There are options. There are reasons the last surgery didn't work - namely, the place where we was simply is not equipped to manage high risk patients like my dad. The new surgeon agreed the best thing they could have done was quit while they were ahead.

We aren't any further along than where we were a few weeks ago. There's still a chunk of cancer in some diseased lungs that are barely held together by bubble gum and straw. But for the first time, I feel like we are in a place that can handle it. I feel like we have a plan complete with a backup plan if that plan doesn't work.

I feel like a little bit of effort went a long way into smoothing relations, helping my own piece of mind.

So, a couple of perfect moments in there:
  • couch time with dad
  • lunch time with mom
  • lunch time with mom and dad with minimal bickering (rare!) when he dropped me back off at home
  • holding a new baby and feeling not judgment, not envy, not anger, just love
And, um, have I mentioned these?

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Before I Forget....

Time for a mind dump:
  • banking fertility
  • lettuce wraps and cheeseless pizzas = I am the bomb
  • job interviews = or perhaps I'm not
  • Japan and loss and needing a narrative to pull oneself through catastrophe = this makes sense to me
  • the horror in knowing that my government doesn't think I have enough brains in my pretty little head to be entrusted with my own health care decisions = this makes no sense to me.
  • A horrific local tragedy, an outpouring of support from around the world and why it drives M to the brink when we read/hear/watch the latest piece of the story when its on the news/paper/radio (I'm getting riled just thinking about this right now, which probably points to me as horrible person but I have my reasons. I'll get into it later)
  • new babies, healing hips, hopeful surgeons and generally decent news on the family front
These are the things I want to talk about with you. As soon as I can come up for air. Working outrageous hours, along with most of my co-workers. Because our boss forgets we are two people down, the people remaining are ALL dealing with some significant health care issues within their immediate families and that we were overextended even when we had some extra bodies. Every time I don't fly into an exasperated rage when I get an email from her, I give myself a little invisible gold star.


I enjoyed the sunshine today. Which tells me that at least I have come a little way from where I was mentally this time last year.

And holy hell I forgot that tomorrow is my remission anniversary until right now this minute.

23 years, bitches.

and by bitches I mean those rotten little mutated cells that decided to wreak havoc on my body and now want to have a go at my dad.

Fuck you, cancer. Still standing.


These gorgeous beauties finally arrived by mail this week. I finally had a chance to stomp around in them today. Do you love them? I love them.

I sang this song and did my dance as we took my in-laws' poodles for a walk this evening and three people and three dogs stopped and looked at me as if I'd gone mad.

But look, I swear to g*ddess, I didn't make it up. See:

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Oooh boy.....

That's gonna leave a mark.

Big. Really big.

That's how big the screaming match I just had with my mom was. Mega.

As big as when I confronted her about not sharing my birth papers with me.

As big as when I finally exploded about her not remembering my husband's name at my wedding (it was a joke!! No. It really wasn't)

As big as when she caught me "consummating my relationship" with my first love and then promptly marched me over to HIS parent's house to tell them. (for real? yeah. for real)

This was weeks and months of resentment and obligation bubbling up and over and into her ears and then her back and me and hey, did I mention I am good at this, so, right back at her.

Unnecessary things were said. I don't need to catalog them here because then I'll need to look at them.

Here's the thing - I would rather scream and yell and have it out then continue with a charade of niceties and fakeries. What she sees as a "relationship" and "everything is fine" I consider the opposite. If I love you enough to tell you how I really feel, you should know that is love. Not the opposite.

But I did what I resent so much when she does it - I dredged things up from the past. And she was shocked. Speechless at a reality she thought was and one that I dismissed tonight. And I am feeling a little bad about that.

You've changed so much. We used to be so close....

When? Tell me when exactly you thought that was? (there have been varying answers to this in the past so I was curious to see what she said tonight)

When you left for college. That's when everything changed.....

Then that confirms how medicated you were through my high school career. Did you ever wonder why I was at the guidance counselors office every day? Did you ever wonder why I wanted to get to university so badly?

Did you ever wonder why I moved so far away?


Yes, friends. I went there. Not unprovoked, but I should know better. I am, allegedly, "the smart one" here. That's another one of her favorite arrows.

I think we should probably not talk for a while. Let her cool off. Let me stop shaking. But I'm sorry, in the Lifetime-movie-watching-mind of my mother, mothers and daughters call each other every day. They share secrets. They plot and scheme and take on the world together. And she is heartbroken that I don't share my deepest, darkest thoughts with her.

That ain't me.

And that never WAS me, but somehow, in her memory, it was. And she is mourning the loss of that, apparently, for decades. That ain't me because in the Lifetime-movie-watching-mind of my mother best friends sit on the porch together and drink mimosas and gossip and kvetch about their woes and their families and hey, my deepest darkest thoughts are seen as fair game. I don't tell her shit because I never know who or when or in what circumstance my words will be repeated back to me.

No! I never do that with personal things!

ALL of my shit is personal to me.

But how do I know the difference?

You don't. Which is why I don't tell you shit.



And now I just got a baffled and confused call from my dad who picked up the phone when it rang and was on the receiving end of my mom screaming at HIM. Which is kind of what I was yelling at her for in the first place.


UPDATE: called my mom and calmly asked why she couldn't wait for me to call my dad to arrange this week of doctor's visits. She says he called her. She didn't even raise her voice and she has witnesses to prove it and he dropped the F bomb on HER. Then hung up.


Madness. Madness I tell you.

This getting old shit - its a sonofabitch.