Seize the Day

I hate seizures. I understand why some cultures still think it is a sign of being possessed. Certainly My eldest does not own himself when it comes. It's not like seeing him ill, or asleep, or unconscious. It is such a completely "other" thing. The first time (when he was 9 or 10?) he had a grand mal seizure it was utterly terrifying. He had had seizures before but they were more like passing out -and there had only been a few we even recognized as seizures. He'd been on medication for those since he was 3 I guess. I was distressed (to be kind) that another malady was being added to the list and a helpful young doctor pulled me aside and asked, "He was 15 weeks premature, what did you expect?" How silly of me.

When he started having the "break -thru" seizures years later we soon realized that the spinning lights he reported were his aura and a blessing. Those lights mean he has time to get some where safe -or at least shut down his computer (that tends to be his priority) and call for us. Last week when we both bolted up in bed to that cry we know so well for "mom!" or "dad!" -well it was "dad" so I contributed by looking at the clock so I could time it. When the gagging sounds stopped it had been 3 minutes and I went back to sleep. That's how devoted I am.

In the fall (or was it the spring?) one day when he knew a seizure was coming he also knew we weren't home so he stayed in his room. Bad choice, sharp edged furniture. Fortunately son #2 was home but it was bloody mess be the time he went to check out what the thumping noise was. Naturally we were al over the map that day. In fact I can't remember exactly where everyone was but eventually we all met in the ER for the stitches. Maybe I already shared this. Can you tell it is all blurring together?

The thing is the seizures used to be about every 6 weeks. Never more and rarely less. Almost always in the evening. Pretty convenient. But not the last 6 (or 8?) months. Now we've had them 2 weeks in a row, morning, evening, here and there. The 5 year old has seen his share. One on Thanksgiving and one on Christmas morning between the stockings and opening the Christmas presents. In the middle of all that wrapping paper, all the nephews on my side with us. I naturally tried to keep it light and cheerful. Don't worry about the twitching and the flailing just look at these lovely gifts- I'll get back to making breakfast in, oh about 3 minutes.

September shadows

This was the day before my baby went to kindergarten. I was ready though. I had my gray covered and highlites. I'd planned on losing weight too but well... I'd just have to do with the young hair. Orientation we meet the teacher. She is way young. It will be fun to surprise her with how old we really are, our "been there done that" moments. Then we read her little biographical introduction and it says she graduated from the local high school. That's right. With my first baby. I could have left the gray showing - she pretty much knows I'm old enough to be her mom.

By January I'm over the teacher being the same age as my eldest but I had this horrible shock helping make the MLK mobiles (don't ask) a few weeks ago. There's the year he died -1968. I remember the day. We were told at school. It was scary and then the riots in DC had all the parents in the suburbs hunkered down and being careful where we went. I knew I was the only parent of any child in that class who not only was alive when it happened but old enough for some (dim) memories. I know I'm not the oldest mom of a 5 year old in the world, certainly not the oldest parent. But trust me, in a random sample of say n=30, and in this neck of the woods, chances of finding anyone else even close is slim slim slim. And once again it didn't matter if I covered the gray or not. It's there.

A funny thing happened on my way to blog...

I had this idea I was going to start blogging regularly -just for myself of course. And I would share what was happening in my generationally challenged household -just for myself of course. Every week I would update our ER visit status, the seizure status, the lost meds status -just for myself of course. No one else need read it. I would wrtie just for myself.

And then I went to the beach a few more times, and out in the boat (if you have a boat that is "the boat", the only boat, the place your money goes (if there was any after the college educations, the car repairs and home maintenance)). Somehow though, every time I sat down to "blog" I'd look up some old movie plot or check for sales on my favorite china or favorite author on Amazon instead. Then I'd be too tired. Certainly too tired to update myself on my life.

And 6 months went by with nary a blog, not a jot, nada. I missed it. I knew it helped me. Even a few (kind) friends said they missed it. So the obvious truth is I may want to write for myself but having convinced myself that I am writing just for myself didn't leave me with much motivation. Nope, none. Hubris or not that's the truth. So I'll write to whoever is reading and not pretend I'm not hoping someone is -because really it is pretty silly when it comes down to it to pretend that. But the reason I have this desire to speak my mind, well that's just for myself because after all this is a blog.

You don't always go where you think you will

... or never have your back to the waves...
There he is. My husband of 27 years (as of the day after this scene). And how many women with a 5 year old can say that? And is there a club? Or a prize? Or a guest spot on Oprah? So, being a devoted wife I tried to get some good shots of his body surfing. On the other hand, being a bit squeamish I turned away before impact. Fortunately it was only a small bruise (last we saw it) and since the victim had apparently spent the morning telling her son to stop whopping people with his boogie board she took it pretty well...



... I particularly like the way his blond hair is swishing in the sea foam. -and how unsuspecting those poor people in the water are. Didn't they see Jaws?

the othe side of the look

I'll get to the title in a minute but first here is a moment from a week or so ago that was one of those this-is-the-life-I-always-wanted-to-live moments. It must be there to balance out the where-the-heck-did-this-come-from-moments. [Also alittle bit of a modern dilemma. Do I need permission to post photos with other people in them especially if, depending on the reality tv you watch, you might recognize them? I am going with the idea that since they're not named and it's a nice picture it's ok. Also, considering Facebookand all, I may be the last human being who even thinks this is an issue.]

There was this moment today when my not 5 year old son and his friend exchanged this look. Not a bad look. Just one I recognized. Perhaps I should clarify this was a friend in the girl category. And it was that "we're in this together" sort of look. And I was mentioning that the one I am in it together with and I need to write a will and figure out guardianship of Jesse should we go out together (so to speak). So there I am worrying about who will raise my baby and suddenly I am feeling way too old. And having just dropped the daughter off at her first apartment it is so clear that we are now on the other side of so much that we don't feel at all that distant from. So clearly we are old people who might very well go anytime and also, quite clearly, at least one of us will have to make it to Jesse's adulthood because I suddenly remember how very young I was too in that not so long ago. Most clearly, we had better stay around for all our babies.

Mixed up: Age confusion

Actually I have height confusion too. When the Home Depot woman said she "loved short people" I wasn't just surprised at her people skills. I was surprised she meant me. I knew she did but I'd forgotten again I wasn't tall. We are returning my next to last baby to college today -moving her in to her first apartment, and I thought we'd look up an old prof. I've kept in sporadic touch with. And then I caught myself thinking how fun it would be to tell him I'm an "adjunct professor" now. And then I realized that it might not be so impressive at 49. I forgot I wasn't right out of college -and only partly because I more or less am. It's like when I think maybe I should figure out how my IRA works and not just let my mom handle it, and won't the stockbroker be impressed at my adult skills? ... and then I remember -because I really had forgotten- that I can actually join AARP in another 3 months. Right after my last baby starts kindergarten. And then there are those times I am talking to someone who is easily 20 years older than I am and we are comparing notes on elderly parents and I realize mine is older than theirs. Or I am with someone my age but the music I grew up with and the depression stories from my mother are what they heard from their grandparents. The sudden moments of complete disconnect at Walmart because I am picking up a Kindergarten sleepmat, college apartment stuff and Serenity ultra pads-and none of it is for me (I swear (yet)).

I have my happy face on

People often asked us why we would want to go through the toddler years again when they'd see us wandering around with a baby and teenagers, or later, an actual toddler and hairy young adult offspring (not you Carolyn) and I'd try yo explain. But see this picture? I took it several weeks ago. It is not the 5 year old who has to make faces out of any produce he sees, and it is not his foot on the kitchen counter here (where else could an adorable short person stand to get the best view of the vegetable faces (but note it is an adorably tiny foot)). Basically the husband and I were just made for toddlers. Five year olds aren't bad but he (the 5 year old) does feel he needs to explain alot to us right now. It is practice for when he gets older and we are clearly clueless. The sibings are just beginning to think we know something again. Except about the fruit faces, I still don't think they get that.

And on the national news front why can't the president comment on the wisdom of a thing?

On the caretaking front 3 more weeks and my mom will be at our house again. I miss her but it does mean remembering the coffee is in the microwave. Caleb's more frequent mouth sores (I finally realized) are from the more frequent seizures but the neurologist has no helpful hints and, in case you were wondering, I hate mail order pharmacies.