Fear not...like that's gonna happen

I was obsessing aloud to a friend over my change in status in the fall, and trying to locate the cause of my discomfort. Maybe it is because if I think if they can do this what else will be changed? So she said, "Oh, you're being afraid of things that haven't happened." Error located... I am the queen mother of being afraid of stuff that hasn't happened yet. First though I have to think it all up and that is where my vivid imagination comes in handy. And if that's not enough there are weather forecasters...and birthday parties. But last year somehow we had the best party idea -a bike parade. The kids loved it, it was simple, it was different, activities (decorating the bike, riding the bike) were built in. Pefect. So we decide to repeat. This is where the forecasters come in. Sunday afternoon was the target, so 1st they predict rain. I can handle that. Then rain and snow... then 90% chance of snow, staring early and going through the party time. OK. The roads are supposed to be clear. We can switch to indoor games, sure indoor games for 10 active 5-6 year olds. The kindergarten teacher, the sweet young thing, turns out to have an evil laugh -I heard it when I told her who was coming. And then I wake up to the above pictured back yard, and the snow is still falling heavily. OK, we'll do snowball fights. Does this sound like I was handling things well? Good, because I tried to make it look that way -I was really trying to think of ways to leave home and let my better half handle it. And this is what my backyard looked like by party time. Perfect bike parade weather - if I hadn't told everyone to leave the bikes home. So what's a queen mother to do? 3 hours after they all go home I remember I forgot to tell the moms that there was a glow bracelet in the gift bag -NOT a honey stick (that's what my child thought it might be). So I left repeated and frantic and totally crazed messages on cell phones and home phones and emails. Of course no one tried to eat it after all... and the one over-twisted bracelet explosion only made a few stuffed toys and some small spots on the wall glow all night. The lesson here is that it's not just the birthday party hosts who should be afraid. And tonight is my last time with my baby when we are 5 and 50. Tomorrow we're 6 (allusion to famous AA Milne book, not that I've forgotten I'll still be 50). I was being a bit weepy over this. My baby said it would be alright because "soon you will be like Grandma with all your family taking care of you." Except for the soon part that doesn't sound too scary.

Change of Season

We were visiting a friend who is a tenured professor of a far more technical field than mine, she can still where a 2 piece bathing suit without shame, her children are brilliant and this is where she took us snow-shoeing since I was too wimpy to ski. And she is a year (or so) younger than I am so there's no hope of catching up.

But catching up is not where my "career" (and even with quotes I use that term loosely) is going right now. It's not a punishment (I'm told) but I will only be advising, not teaching, in the fall. New (actual) faculty (as opposed to limited part time adjunct me) will get my (mine mine mine) class. In the spring I will be teaching an undergraduate class. This is actually all perfectly reasonable and fair. In fact, it's more than fair all things considered. And it isn't my class anyway. These are just feelings. Limited part time feelings. Do other professors go home and cry? Or at least cry on the way home?

Or would they if their day started out like mine with their mothers telling them they (the mothers) should move back home so the 5 year old won't see them "this way", and then crying... and then telling the (probably tenured) professor they were completely out of Serenity pads (the name has actually changed but notice I hate change) and the 5 year olds must now be dropped off early with a neighbor to allow for enough time to get these necessities and Milk Way bars to prove that they (the professors) do still love their mothers even though they huffed a little over trying to fit this in and still make it to a meeting and when they ran in the house with these purchases their mother was asleep so they had to just give instructions to the son who had had a seizure the night before last to take care of his grandmother and check with some other neighbors to be sure someone would be home since their spouse was out of town and they wouldn't be able to answer the phone and advise and lecture and all that before getting home very late? Would they? Do I sound pitiful enough? Do I?

But the truth is this change (my job, not the name of the pads) is probably good (and not even permanent) . Still, I avoid change on principle -not to mention on the simple basis of fear -only to be surprised as I was with the snow shoeing at the amazing views and wonder of it all and the sure knowledge that on my own I'd be lost and freezing to death.

Coherency

I told my mother today that she was obviously old and senile and I was going to have to call the doctor. She had come to lunch complaining of being confused. "Who were we at war with and why?" Also she doesn't seem entirely sure who is president. Didn't Clinton lose? I may ask the neurologist- and that did make her laugh (my mother, probably not Hillary).

Actually I am avoiding the neurologist. My first born (I think I will from here on refer to him as FB) called out frantically at 9:45 last night -just to "know where you are" he said. But indeed he was preparing for a seizure. He is quite coherent right up through his eyes rolling all the way back and will narrate his progress for me. "Here it comes. Yup, it's starting now." I am always grateful he then goes where ever it is one goes during a grand mal seizure and we are left alone with his contortions and the clock. A long time ago the neurologist told us to time the seizures because otherwise all we would know was that it seemed like forever. Five minutes is the magic number for us -when we would call 911, but FB has never gove over about 3 1/2 minutes. I couldn't opt for just clock watching this time since my other half (I'll call him OH hence forth) is "on travel".

I planted the tulip bulbs a few months ago in a pot so I could bring Spring inside for my mom. Not because I had forgotten to in the fall and the ground was too frozen to dig when I noticed them. No naturally not. I am a thoughtful daughter and I even chided the almost 6yr old (I'll give him an acronym next time), to "stop teasing Grandma with the potato chips." Maybe you had to be there ... still it wasn't quite what I expected to hear myself saying. It rarely is you know.

I think they're called 'Glory Holes'

With a Not Likely the Shunt (for now) we proceeded to take my mom home for the day. And since this is the view out the kitchen door it was just another hardship (see hot tub post) in our quest to be dutiful. Back home my first born reported the chest pain was worse -but then better this morning. Two Advils later it seems to be just another mysterious working of the human body. He'd spent an hour in a pool for the first time in years the day before so maybe... who knows. And I'd say we'll just ignore the next mysterious pain except that with a tube from your brain to your heart and buckets of scar tissue in the old tubing routes ignorance is only bliss for a little while. So is escaping for a little while -but we do it anyway.

Life is so hard

It is true we have a hot tub but it is also true it rained alot last week so we had to improvise. Neighbors (some years ago) were getting rid of the hot-tub so we paid a little to them and nothing at all to the other neighbor who drove his little pick-up between our yards to move it and here we are in the heart of decadence.

To balance out my guilt let me share that this same weekend I had to cut the 5 year old's toenails (nothing unusual there, but he does wiggle so it still counts), my mother's (also to be expected for a 92 year old but it definitely gives me points) the 26 year old's (this one gives me double points -his toes are twisty, the nails hard and I just shouldn't have to be doing this [whining alert]) and the 21 year old's (OK -no points, but she had new sandals and I had nail scissors ready to go).

Where was I going with this? I'm not sure because the neurosurgeon just called back and that was really why I was blogging -to distract myself. And what did he say? He said to just see how things go and call him back tomorrow. The "things" - actually just one "thing" -is a mysterious pain in my eldest's chest. I poked and prodded and played (medical) doctor and it makes no sense. Except that his shunt(= neurosurgeon) does now drain into his heart and it is finally not raining on a day we planned to take my mom to her own house for the day and a friend has arrived from out of town and my better half has taken the day off and ...well it is just the kind of day when I expect to be waylaid by a medical crisis. But apparently I'm not quite. Just a road bump in the highway of life. Try some aspirin and call me in the morning. Into every life a little rain must fall. And as they say if your feet look nice the rest will take care if itself. No, I just made that up, so maybe we'd better still pray.

So I actually used this picture at the beginning of a lecture. A little random but it reminded me of some point I wanted to make about experiments and of my home-on-spring-break girl. The point is I try to add some color to a sometimes dry topic. Apparently not enough because about a third of the way through I hear this soft sound, and I look and there is this very tall student with his legs stretched all the way out in front of him and his head at rest on his chest and he is snoring. He looked so peaceful. I stopped and asked the class if maybe someone ought to poke him and then there is a moment of complete silence -silence except for the gentle foosh shoosh of his snoring. I decided we'd just carry on but he was only a few feet from me and it was hard not to keep sliding my eyes over to check on his napping. Finally the student behind him poked him. He looked disgruntled until she whispered something to him which I'm guessing was along the lines of, "busted" and then he sat up very straight and put his face in his hands. Somehow I went on ...and he went on to argue about some point he didn't understand later in the lecture. Which if you think about it was just a little nervy. So I wonder what he'll put on my evaluation- did I lose points on "accomodates different learning styles" ? ...foosh swoosh, foosh swoosh.

The kindergarten perspective

The world according to Jesse:

He named his new toy ladybug "Mr. Ladybug" because there must be boy ladybugs so they can be strong and the girl ladybugs can be not strong.

50 is not old because it is along way from 100. Therefore I (mom) am not old and I should have another baby.

The teacher says you should not sleep together. Sleeping together is wrong. [on further questioning we were informed that this is what the teacher says at nap time when they lay out their mats]

Grandma is not old because 92 is also not 100.

He is worried he will lose "his thinking" when he is a grown up because grown ups don't have "thinking".

He does not like showers he likes baths. Why? Because "in the bath I don't pick my nose." [this was as far as we could tell a completely random thought]

He did not put Grandma's cane in his bedroom. Not today he didn't. He put it there some other day so he should not go in time out.

Everytime he sees an American flag he is very excited because those people must also live where we do in "Remerica" [I am beginning to call it Remerica myself]

Clarifying his question to the only child who lives next door, "I mean do you have the kind of brothers or sisters who live somewhere else?"

When told because he was wishing he was a grown-up that then he'd have to go to work like daddy he clarified he meant, "the kind of grown-ups like [fill in names of older siblings here who don't appear to work].

Role models are so important.