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.

trying to fly away

... actually I was helping pull in the kite -but I do look so adorably short. I read that a woman, only a little older than I am, has "finally" been appointed head of a national security agency (admittedly not one anyone has ever heard of before) and I wonder what have I done with my life. She graduated from the same college I went to and she raised 3 daughters -the article didn't say successful and attractive but you just know. And I feel bad about not helping with VBS or losing weight or pushing Caleb more this summer or taking over the "Intelligence Community" -or even being part of one. And for going to my mom's this weekend and washing the boat more than I spent time with her and not checking on Caleb who opted to stay home. Bernie checked. I checked on Nathanael -he was fine, although I didn't know where he was. Turned out he was home, ...checking on Caleb because Caleb had had a seizure when Nathanael happened to be around the night before. The boat cleaned up nicely, and it still made me happy. God must have been checking.

true SHORT story

It was my original intention that my next blog (ie this one) would finish out our travel saga- how a simple hike was fraught and I got mad because a sibling of the (most) challenged one on this hike wanted to go faster and I felt put upon (only I would've worded it much more interestingly and sympathy inducingly) etc etc. Also I intended to follow up my last entry within a week(not because I think anyone is waiting but because it is my idea of trying to be more disciplined, like about sentences that are too long and all that, and the gratuitous uses of parentheses). So why the sudden motivation? What suddenly surpassed an accumulation of 25 years of patiently walking along with walkers and wheelchairs and crutches and whine whine whine? - the Home Depot greeter.

All I wanted to do was buy some paint while I had free time having dropped the littlest one at VBS and guiltily escaped helping with said VBS. My punishment was when I walked into Home Depot the woman handing out the 10% off coupon (for things unrelated to my errand) gave it to me with a warning it only was good for a few more days and then exclaimed, "I just love short people!" (that would clearly include me). I stopped, cemented to the spot by my desperate attempt to think of the appropriate response. And I laughed because what else could I do? This encouraged her to explain the she really loved short people, everything about them was so tiny and they were just so adorable and extra weight didn't show on them-unlike her "apple booty" (enriching my vocabulary and building my self esteem), and her mother had been short and look I even had tiny feet and really who "wanted to be average" when short people were just so cute? I am not making this up. I am adorable. Dr. Adorable that is.

Clearly there must be a plan in my life and purpose in the universe because really this stuff couldn't just happen.

vacationing part III

News flash to those of you who, like me see ocean waves and think "takes-a-while-to-get-used-to-it-before-plunging-all-the-way-in": when they say "warm Gulf waters" they actually mean as in almost too warm to seem appropriate for hygeinic bathing. But then it was kinda fun and then we realized (somewhere between when one of Caleb's crutches got sucked under the waves and I considered the possibilities of finding a replacement and before my friend found it) what warm water meant for Caleb. Joy. One of those things no one told us when Caleb was little and we were following therapists' advice and pushing pool time was that what seems comfortable to the rest of us will cause muscle spasms in muscles with CP. So the screaming kid complaining about the water being too cold was not being wimpy he was in pain. Now, at 25 he is thinking maybe he'll give swimming another try (if we move to Florida).

See World too: travel whine part II

Oh and on that extra day park hopping I was in Walmart. We had told the slightly (undiagnosed of course, why would we pay another specialist?) OCD eldest that he need not pack 15 of everything -we might do laundry on the trip or one can wear a shirt twice (actually even underwear but that would be too personal to mention) so we came up with a compromise of packing for 11 days. I didn't mean the pills, but I did keep saying 11, so when on the 3rd day he lost a pill I asked had he packed any extra... I spent an hour on the phone making various calls and locating the nearest pharmacy (-in a Walmart that is, because I might as well buy cheap Disney stuff while I waited) explaining it to the neurologists, verifying it went through etc. etc. Of course insurance doesn't cover this so the 6 days worth was ... well a lot of money that could have been used for more Mickey Mouse t-shirts.

And we also went to SeaWorld. Not the royal we since the other half had to be in meetings all day (why we went to Florida after all). Al day and just me and 3 out of 4 offspring. 100% of those offspring who need assistance. And when one of them broke down because he couldn't pick his own seat at the shows and was upset we never got splashed and wanted to come back alone -I did not by some miracle break down too. Because at that moment it just did not seem right that it was my 25 year old. It did not seem right to him either. On the other hand we did see a mime who was actually funny at the seal and otter show so in the end it was all worthwhile. We left laughing.

Disney Whirled (whining alert)

Remember how I said I had called Guest Sevices? Well then I stood in line for Guest Services because I'd been told there was some card I could get to have better acces to the rides for Caleb, but the young person at the counter told me the wheelchair was enough (made sense to me) and we could always use FastPass (I think the italics make it look faster) -not so much sense since running back and forth between rides is part of what I was trying to avoid but OK. Then the rides attendants (not correct Disney term) started telling us we needed a special (possibly Magic) access card. So I have Carolyn, who went with Caleb to Epcot so that I could be free to stand in line twice in one day to have a 5 year old be to shy to talk to Mickey Mouse but that was alright since it all reall is the happiest place on earth to a 5 yr old, wait in line at Guest Service there and get the access card. And then at the first ride she tried to use it was told it was the "wrong kind" -it just told the attendants the holder had a wheelchair (really) and she needed the kind with an arrow on it. He (if I knew his name I'd put it right here) told her this rudely -and she doesn't notice rude easily. So 3rd tme around I avoid the Guest Services line and try if the card works in the Magic Kingdom. No I am told (politely now) I need to go to Guest Services, but there is no doubt the young man I am pushing in the wheelchair could and should have the other access card -from Guest Services at the front of the park. I am not at the front of the park. I am pushing the wheelchair. I whine a little and the attendant gives us pass to get right on the ride. I only tried this once but it was good.

Still, I don't really like having to do this sort of thing and mostly our ride choice was driven by the 5 yr old so the lines were only medium long and sometimes there was a special entrance for wheelchairs -and sometimes not. And sometimes you got there and found this conveyor belt thing you had to step on and then climb from it into a moving car. Try that with crutches and orthotics and big feet that don't bend. And then do it again to get out. We spent a lot of time having costumed people telling us, "no, this way." because we missed the handicap entrance or thought there was one when there wasn't. So at the end I stood in line to at Guest Services again to tell them what I thought of the communication skills of the previous Guest Service people and the need for something more than a PhD (I like to work it in whenever I can) to figure out the secret codes involved. It was not a young person this time. It was in fact a very handsome Latin looking and sounding gentleman. I was very polite and really I think only a little pathetic. And he said (suavely I swear) they had indeed erred and it was their job to make it right and would we take free passes (park hopper at that) for all (of us) for the next day and the proper access pass? OK. Actually that's when I started crying.

And for anyone thinking, why should someone just sitting in a wheelchair get to bypass the lines and go straight into the Fastpass lanes without gettin a Fastpass?- you have a point. It's the people pushing the wheelchair in 90+ heat and getting the occupant in and out of the rides and carrying the crutches that should get to. It was my 5th day in a park I figured this out.

Oh and I made Caleb pose for me with Jesse's Mickey Mouse. He wasn't totally amused but I was and sometimes it's all about making Mom happy.

Daddy's day

Jesse actually said this morning that the birds in the trees were all singing Happy Daddy's day -then while we were doing last minute yard stuff in the unbeleivable for this time in the morning heat he ate the blueberries (handpicked wild no less) I had set aside for his father. Now he is on time out and I am taking a moment and then we leave for 2 weeks (I packed this morning).

Disney World -the happiest place on earth. So how do you ask people to pray you survive it or explain bursting into tears every time you try and talk to Guest Services (... to find out about handicap access -oh, clue) ? After a week moving my mom back into her house (thank you big sister for joining her for a few weeks), cleaning, organizing, floating in the raft tied to the dock (full disclosure) rushing back for a student's final presentation and packing (this morning remember?) now I get to take a 20 yr old who has an uncanny talent for getting lost, a 5 year old (enough said) and the 25 yr old with the crutches that broke yesterday and are now cobbled together from old spare parts (you get the idea of the sort of thing we keep in our basement) to Disney World while Daddy relaxes in all day meetings. And while I don't hesitate to send out mass emails asking for prayers for hospitalizations I thought it wouldn't go over big this time. Is there special coverage for "vacations"? Now I am not asking for sympathy because (in my heart) I know I don't deserve it but if you could all laugh at me and maybe get a few friends to laugh at me too (if you know my dear college daughter and can picture her lost in Disney World it will help) maybe that will get me through because I will be too embarrassed not to pull myself together and smile at Mickey.

Oh and the biggest reason I don't deserve sympathy can be seen here walking on the beach with the time out boy. Dad's are pretty cool.

his heart's fine

Actually so is mine according to the cardiologist...so far... but the bp and cholesterol all need to come down and now this .... (if the link doesn't work it's a news flash that studies now show short people have a 50% higher heart disease risk) http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20100609/ap_on_he_me/eu_med_short_people_heart_problems . Really I think it would be easier to grow taller at this point. (And if any one reading this had been picturing me as tall and willowy you just go ahead).

Staying at the beach would work. Who knows how tall you are when you're lying on a beach towel? Yesterday I awoke to my mom making her way to the living room with her walker to tell us the 23 yr. old had come in late and then been on hand when the 25 yr old had a seizure to help him into bed and she hadn't slept all night and then the 5 year old woke up -too late if you know what I mean in terms of changing the sheets again. (and in case you didn't know at least 2 out of the 4 things mentioned are normal boy behavior, but wait -I'm going for 3 out of 6). And then the 23 yr old overslept what turns out to have been an important appointment but I ignored his alarm knowing he'd let us sleep through the seizure. Also you might not want to sign even a minor citation with a smiley face. So still at least a 50% normal life I'm thinking.

surf

Funny, but for 3 days I had no anxiety "attacks". Just me and the beach and the 2 guys who are still all mine. And the one who felt guilty about it being a working (mini) vacation didn't mind the clothes and jewelry I found in the cute little beachy artsy shoppes (shops might be Walmart so the spelling is key here). Even the time Caleb's crutches washed away in the surf and we had to have new ones expressed to the nearest pharmacy (because it's not like the shops (or shoppes) at the beach stock child size fore-arm crutches), and just use the one meanwhile that his dedicated father had found out in the breakers, I relax on the beach. It must be the assault on your senses by the slamming, banging waves, and the wind all over, and the sunlight even on an overcast day and the heat and the smells and there's just no room for anything else.

Then we came home and 1)I brought some sort of the whole right side of my face is swollen ear infection with me 2)Caleb had not done any kitchen work while we were gone which is his one real job 3)my mom was feeling too 92, grumpy and miserable, enough that she was bothered that I had new stuff and a teapot for my sister but only leftover oysterettes from a restaurant for her 4)many emails awaited re: various academic type meetings and advisees etc. 5)some worker guy pulled out a perfectly gorgeous lavendar and sprawling rosemary at my mom's house before they decided they didn't need to cut through that wall after all and 6)I was reminded that I am mad at several people all named Bob. Caught in all those waves... but wait 1)penicillin and vicodin 2)a repentant reformed Caleb, well no not quite, but he did try hard to catch-up and apologised 3)my Mom told me about the grumpiness due to the oysterettes so I could laugh with her -and admitted they were good oysterettes after all 4)my advisee graduate student told me I was "awesome" 5)maybe we saved the lavendar and I'm cooking with the rosemary and afterall the work is finally getting done and 6)... nope, still pretty ticked at the Bobs. Surf's up. Everybody jump in.

And I think I want a convertible for my 50th birthday even if I couldn't actually take either the 92 or 5 year old in it.

Red eyes

The glow you see in Jesse's eyes isn't the flash -it's just reflecting our feelings at trying to make "Grandma's house" livable for her this summer. Every weekend we have been making the 1 1/2 hr commute to try and fix the plumbing and ready it for people who (please God) have more expertise to come in and work on it.

Today was one of those days that rather than sandwiched between the old and young I felt blessed on all sides (ok, maybe not all, but at least those two) as Jesse hung on the side of Grandma's bed -did you know a hospital bed is just the right height for a 5 year old to hug the occupant? He "loves her so so so much. But not as much as Mom." So he does know who still does the cooking. Still it was a nice unsolicited bout of affection. Later, when a friend visited and Mom asked us to come in her room and then teased me about something I took a vase of roses and shook it over her while all the petals dropped on her. I don't know if the visitor thought we were both crazy but somehow it seemed very appropriate to me to have my mother lying covered with petals for the rest of the visit. Caregving can be entertaining.

Earlier I tried to advise a student via phone on her final research project and discuss outliers, and normality assumptions whilst Jesse chased me outside (I had some time before he found his shoes to do so) and yelled about his new car booster that he wanted to assemble himself as it had just arrived, and the money hungry college student painting the laundry room for cash asked about spackling. There are no normality assumptions in this house.

point of view

This is Jesse at the local Farmer's Market. It's behind me. All full of leafy green things. He was ready to go home. I've uploaded this for now to keep the thought. All I was thinking of when last at the market was that my mother had said the night before that she didn't feel welcome in my home. It's like when your teens say they hate you. You know it is the mood, and the misery speaking -but it doesn't really help knowing that. Afterall it is the mood and the misery you were trying to avoid.

heartaches

Last summer. But it still makes me happy. And you can see the scar on the back of my first born's head. But what you really see is his sister holding him up because the donkey's were afraid of his crutches. There was music video I saw, a counrty one of course, with cute children saying what they wanted to be when they grow up -including a cute on in a wheel chair. He wanted to be an explorer. And of course as the future is all opportunity and technological advances this is a real possibility -in music video land. You can be whatever you dream.

Caleb is not so cute anymore.

And tomorrow we pick up my mom but yesterday she fell again. She had my sister call so she could ask me what doctor to see, and could we stop by for an MRI on the way home tomorrow? She didn't completely make sense, and she was starting to cry and then saying my sister thought she was being "stupid". This is my mom and when it comes down to it I'd probably rather think that my sibling was not being as nice as I would be rather than my mom is falling apart but I know it's not true. My sister is nicer and I could hear her trying to reassure our mom. I could hear her. I didn't want to. I wanted to hang up. I am curled up in a king size hotel bed while my husband is at meetings and my older ones have the little one for 2 days so that I can relax. Already I had a call from my cardiologist that they will have to postpone my nuclear stress test because they asked the insurance company's permission too late (and you think this will be better with my federal involvelment?). Since I had started to worry over this test and had been scheduling aroung it for several days I handled it (not) very well. I cried to the insurance company -and here's the thing. They are trying to fix it now. God knows why they would want to keep us on their role but maybe they figure everyone will want the plan we have. If they can't I just have to reschedule and wait another week to spend thousonds to find out that it's just stress and menopause. Any bets?

Chickens at a Christmas tree farm

Why not? It's about as sensible as anything else that might go here and far cuter than the picture I contemplated (taking and) posting of Caleb's black and swollen eyelid.

I forgot (again) that Jesse has preschool on Thursdays, so with husband out of town I left him (5 yr old, not husband) with my sister while I gave a final exam Wednesday night and then spent the night with her and was just hanging out (and grading) when the other son called asking how to locate our friend the school nurse. I'm pretty clever so I knew this was a bad sign. Only when I asked why did he need this particularly useful (and loved) friend was I told Caleb had just had a seizure, hit his head and there was kinda alot of blood. Can you say 911?

And I called the school nurse so she could be there too -since it was prime rush hour and I (and husband) were on the far side from home of alot of rushing. Let's sum up. Scans and blood work clear, 3 stitches, impressive swelling, hours of waiting in traffic (even taking hybrid advantage of HOV lanes) to get to the ER and... wait, rescued finals from being thrown up on (hence the scan), most of grading done, yearly CT scan taken care of, medication blood levels (ordered last month and postponed until convenient -hah) done. Not bad for one day.

Oh, and earlier in the day heart to heart with sister about 92 year old mother's occasional craziness, later in the day (driving back from ER and 24hr pharmacy to be precise) heart to heart with college daughter about guys and "just being friends" and ... did I mention I want to sit in a corner and howl? Like the chickens.

If there is a point here... please tell me.

blooming

The azaleas are never disappointing. And I'm not crazy about pink, and I hate what I call "builder azaleas" -those awful magenta (according to my mother "awful magenta" is that shade of red you personally dislike) stuck in around new home foudations in between various equally awful arbovitae or holly shrubs (the ones without any points on there leaves -or to their very existence). But azaleas on the edge of the woods in all the wonderful variety they actually come in, that's another thing all together. Yes, I am a plant snob.

But in a limited part time kind of way - just like my teaching next semester. Unlike the azaleas finding this out was rather anticlimactic. I will be doing pretty much what I did this year but for a somewhat better "compensation package" (that means pay since what the University means by limited is don't even think about benefits). It was all so calm, and simple and naturally I felt quite silly for all my fretting -except for the comment about being "supportive of our limited part-time faculty" as long as they are "improving" -warning or explanation? Who knows and at this point I am determined not to ever let myself get in such a fuss again. From now on if they act like I might not be good enough for them -well I don't want to play with them either. etc etc she says with her head held high. Really, there is a plan other than the University's.

As for Caleb I have no idea how he did in his classes and I don't exactly care either because at the end of the day (so to speak) it was clear he is not committed to any path right now and clearly with out some committment none will get him far. He needs to stop and really think this time -not just tell us he is. We are suggesting counseling -not so much for the counsel as someone (not us) to talk to. He is feeling like it is all pointless but he just keeps avoiding any uncomfortable topics and so... I haven't wanted him to drag out the stuff that hurts, to have to "go there" as they now say far too often (so accept my apologies, since I just said it too). But ignoring it is not working for him. I know he has so much to offer. Jesse surely knows it. He was thrilled to have his big 'bruh-er' available the last few days to 'watch me' -he was all full of love for Caleb at dinner and wanted to hold hands while he ate. Caleb loves him so -even if not enough to only have one hand to eat with. There are limits.

And now the roses are starting to open and this weird fringy lilac I bought and then thought of getting rid of has suddenly bloomed like crazy and shot up to shade the chair I always envisioned it shading so I could sit under it this evening with Jesse on my lap smelling all the blooms he could reach. It must have know I'd thoughtof removing it. Saved; smarter than the fig tree.

Swinging

I haven't written because somehow the fretfulness kinda took over. Except when it didn't and then I wasn't in the mood. The pink t-shirt stain in the background is Merlot by the way. How did we go from all that snow to this?

So I am just giving a status report.

My baby is 5 -was he 5 last time I wrote anything here? I don't think so. 5 is so not a baby. Where did the time go etc etc etc.

Caleb finished his classes but he may or may not have passed or done well enough to stay enrolled and in any case, even as he finally started to put some effort into the classes it became clear he had only taken them because it was an option he didn't have to think about. Denial/repressing always was his emotional defense. It has served him well. He finally blurted out to us some thing along the lines of , "Why bother? I could go back in the hospital any day." True. So we'll go to Disney World.

My mom has also been feeling the futility motif of late. She vented a bit too much along those lines to her doctor and of course they said, "You must be SEEN." Silly doctors. That only made her feel more not less of all those various bad things. Pain medicine was what she neeeded. Maybe some wine. She is actually staying with my sister the last week and for the next month and I guiltily enjoy mornings with one less for breakfast and laundry -at the same time that I miss her.

And then there's me, not knowing still if I will be teaching next semester and making myself crazy trying to make all the students happy and love me, -trying to make everybody happy and love me. Isn't that what "caretaking" is all about? I swing from sure to not so sure about it all.

But I got my gray covered again. I may look more like a 5 year old's mom but of course that only makes having a 92 year old mother more confusing.

outsourcing

I have wondered for a while about the economic impact of cutting health care costs. I mean sure it's expensive (and trust me I know) but at least the money goes into our own economy.The local hospital here may have made a healthy profit last year but I know some of the people who got bonuses. And why, I often wonder, should the high cost of saving lives be more scandalous than the high cost of, say, all these electronics we (or our children) have to have? Well at least in the future if your insurer goes broke you can console yourself that the pain will be spread globally (see link) . http://news.yahoo.com/s/csm/20100325/wl_csm/290215

Oh and here is a picture of the big green ball the day before Jesse put the "pokey thing" in it and it became mine.

Oh and when I fell apart this morning and sobbed when I wondered to myself if my real problem with the teaching uncertainty was the day to day uncertainty with both my mom and Caleb, I knew I'd hit the injured spot. It was like when I had appendicitis (both times, but that's another story) and the doctor pushed in the exact spot and the gernerally painful abdomen became quite ... focussed. Is there an -otomy for this? On the other hand if there was, given my history, they'd miss the stump.

Oh and Carolyn pointed out that not only does Jesse turn 5, and I turn 50 this year. She turns 21. That's it. No more birthdays.

Tha was almost 5 years ago. A little less so it must have been a later spring because those daffodils are all out right now. You can see Jesse wasn't really into the flowers then either. Today he just wanted to prune things. He pruned the big new green ball -and then it became my ball -which he was very sorry he had flattened.

Five years ago today I was finally up and moving (too much), so glad to be released from bed-rest it went to my head. I'd like that feeling back. Instead here I sit trying not to worry about if I'll still be teaching next fall. I decided not to worry about student evaluations anymore -so of course last night I stared out at them and stumbled over simple phrases because I was thinking, "Does that one look bored?, Was that a smirk? Oh good a head nod. My dozer is awake tonight. What did I just say?" I don't think I was as bad as that might sound- and I had very attractive PPt slides -some even had stick figure illustrations! All and all if I were 8 inches taller and bearded (and a male if I'm going for the facial hair) it would have been a fine lecture by a slightly (ever so slightly) absent minded professor. There is such a short distance between coming off as a little bit eccentric genius or a possibly incompetent, frazzled amateur -but I'm telling you it is surprisingly often measured in vertical inches (and if you are snickering right now that's the point). So I did still worry but today I am better. A faculty member (in charge of teaching assignments) is going to come in to observe me (my request but possibly already planned) so at least one evaluation will not be anonymous. And some nights I don't fumble and I'm pretty good - it's up to God if it's one of those nights or not. I just show up.

On the care taking front nobody is in the hospital. (but I'm not asking Caleb how he's doing in his classes -I don't want to know). I think it was a year ago this week that we started the shunt adventures. I think it is part of my general state of anxiety. He's made it alomst a year . When we have gone a full year since his discharge that will be good. It's silly. It's not rational. It's not medically meaningful. But I have been on edge the last 2 months partly wanting to get past April. And Mom turns 92. But first Jesse has to turn 5 and we have to have a bike parade/party and I have to make a cake. Or buy a cake. Or make a cake. Or buy one... or

Poof

Told you it went poof. Caleb had a seizure at midnight. While we were waiting for it (he has a long enough aura we could chat a bit first) I suggested this was because he had stayed up too late. No, he thought it was more likely to be because he had watched a "banned Pokemon video" - banned? I ask. Yes, he tells me, it was thought to cause seizures. Not a statistically significant sample here, but compellin as they say.

Up in flames

My mom and my sister gave me this rattan chair when Caleb was born so I would have some where comfy to sit while I expressed milk to take to the NICU. All the cross pieces were held together by plastic ties -not apparently the kind of plastic that will still be found in landfills a hundred years from now -although little bits of them can still be found in my bedroom carpet. Sitting on this chair had become (too much of) an adventure. The time had come, it had to go. But I wanted a noble end so on the fire it went. Moments after this it was aglorious blaze. Very satisfying even if a little sad but now I have room for a better chair.
Now how do I write what I wanted to say about taking care of my mom without it sounding related to this? It's not -exactly. But when I was doing yard work I was thinking about the difference in "care-taking" between taking care of my mom, Jesse, and Caleb. With my mom I can't look forward to a break. Never having to clean up the bathroom floor again, or get another (warmer, please) cup of coffee only goes with... no mom. I can't even think about it. So I can't think about having more time and less laundry on that account. With Jesse I grieve a little over every phase passed but it is alright to look forward to the time he needs less of my time -there's things I will miss and things to rejoice over in the future. I know (in my heart at least) eventually he will be dry all night every night (I do believe, I do believe). As far as Jesse goes, I can plan for a time I have more time without guilt -but there's not just Jesse so I can't because what kind of daughter would I be to find anything good in my mom being gone? And then there is Caleb, where I want to ... but I can't look forward to something that may not happen at all. This is not my clearest writing -it couldn't be could it? Not about the murkiest of my thoughts. Wanting to see a time to rest but not wanting to either. I'm still working this out. I'll keep you posted. Jesse at that age where all the future is exciting, my mom with mostly past and Caleb with little of either it feels. I'm going to go watch Monk with Bernie.

In Memorandum

A dear friends daughter picked this flower -and its leaves yesterday. When it was noticed she placed it all back on the ground, and when asked she said, "It was just a little unpicked." Also she pinted out that it was, "in the middle of no where." The flowers (now in a vase by my mom) I didn't mind, but the leaves... I told her they would have fed the plant. I wasn't mad but those poor litle leaves seemed so sad and pointless in that little bundle. I grieved just a little. I don't know if I will be rehired to teach next semester. There is some justice and some injustice in the pending decisions but it had been my goal for so long to teach, and some other hey-I-have-a-PhD-opportunities are also possibly moving on (with someone elses midlatelife crisis), and altogether I feel sympathy with those leaves. Wilting in the sun -if you sense the melodrama here -so do I. Doesn't seem to matter to my psyche though. Away it goes all the same. I am still feeling crushed - even not really knowing I won't be teaching. In fact several colleagues have told me they expect I will be but just not knowing for sure is enough to make me fret over every student comment. And I thought employment was supposed to be empowering... so I baked a cake.

Today's crocuses

Caleb told me on the way to the bus that he had a headache and that he had forgotten his seizure medication the night before -and also to write the "reaction paper" due today. So I left him for the bus with an extra prayer. But then this afternoon he called to say he could make up for the missed assignment by attending a lecture tonight and reacting to that. OK. Then I realize my husband is coming back from NJ and could bring home Caleb, late, but without my driving in and out of town. ... but that means no meds until late since (naturally as flowers in spring) Caleb didn't take any with him. This is how complicated simple arrangements become. Do we take a risk to avoid some extra driving -and the 4 yr old going to bed too late since he'd have to come along -actually that wins. I stay home awaiting either Caleb or a call from some distraught stranger holding his phone. I think I'll have some tea.

The lost weekend

Only lost in terms of blogging... We went for one more ski trip the end of February, the weekend they have this "race" for the adaptive skiers. There were about 14 participants, including about 6 legally blind participants -the youngest of whom was7 years old. There were 4 other skiers in these sit ski things like Caleb -some have one runner, some 2 (I think) and the "outriggers" can be fixed or as here held like crutches. At the end they had awards. We are not good parents -we would gladly have skipped this part. Everyone of course got a gold medal, but given in order of your best time. Caleb was last. And why I cared about that I have no idea but I cared anyway. Still he loved the sking and he got to do some the day before the race, and the volunteers stayed after for more sking in the afternoon. Jesse took lessons both days and then skied with his dad and sister and the offspring you'd expect to be snowboarding did that. At one point I realized all 4 of my children were "on the slopes" at the same time. I got pretty teary eyed -I wanted a gold medal.

We took my mom with us this time and I lost my head making the packing list before hand and started writing down all the meds and walking equipment and etcs etcs I needed to get into the car. By the time everyone went tubing I stayed with Grandma -not because she needed me, not because I don't love sliding down the mountain (and I'm pretty much a natural born tuber) but because I couldn't stand worrying if everyone was having fun anymore. So I watched the earthquake news (Chile) instead, and worried because my husband has family there. But it was still easier than trying to have fun. That's the sad old shape I'm in.

slow to upload

I'm not sure how this will go. I am still waiting for Blogger to open the page to upload photos -for the 3rd time. And contemplating how much productive time is lost waiting on computers. If I sat down at a typewrite I'd just type. No one would see it (as opposed you 3) but it would be all typing. all the time. And I wouldn't have lost my temper at my husband -I'm sure that is the computer's fault.

So now the picture is loaded and you can see this is the part of spring we were really waiting for. That's right. Bike riding.

And I made up with my husband but I am still in my funk and still find the world, my church, my family, my work ... annoying. God only knows what they find me.

(It takes both canes, and a chair every few feet but Grandma made it outside the first fine day.)

Spring and all that

This picture is from yesterday. The snow has almost all melted and there are the crocuses. The most delicate tough flower I know. All kinds of meaning can be taken from this -I'm not taking any at the moment.
It has simply been a tough month. We went skiing again with Caleb and Jesse and Carolyn came to meet us with our niece who goes to school near her. The fireplace rock climber came for part of the weekend. There was a "race" for the adaptive skiers. I was amzed to see these legally blind 8 year olds flying down the slopes. Caleb was in a sit ski thingy (technical term) -as were 3 toher skiers. He was the slowest. It shouldn't matter and of cousre it doesn't exatly since everybody got a medal but it still pinched me somehow.
We took my mom too and that was good. And not really any extra work. So it's not that but somehow the whole thing just didn't dent my general stress. Or depression, or whatever it is. Jesse did great, each of his 2 days of lessons. All my guys had fun -well the niece wasn't crazy about skiing but she enjoyed the tubing. I skipped that too. I was so done with planning everyone's good time that I knew if I went I would just worry about Jesse being too cold, or Bernie too tired or the girls too bored -not that any of them were any of these things. I just want to crawl into my hole and pull it in after me.
The week before I was in Food Lion and there was this familar looking woman -we smiled and did the sort of nod thing- giving some young man pointers on washing the glass fronts to the freezer section. I turned the corner and there were 3 or 4 more adolescents with another woman giving guidance, all washing glass doors. One of the boys had a walker behind him -like Caleb had in preschool. He looked a little like Caleb (less facial hair) and was working hard at the scrubbing. I just stood there staring. Now I recalled the familar woman had been at the local school. The other woman asked if I needed to get in the cases being worked on but since I was no where near them I knew she meant stop staring. "But I'm in the club," I wanted to say. "Hey, I know the secret hand shake." But I don't. I never figured it out. And to round this shopping trip out the cashier asked if I'd give a dollar to Easter Seals and I said, "No," because we did not have good experience with a summer camp through them. I'm not saying they aren't a great organization but we actually paid alot and had to solicit donations for part of the cost and it left a bad taste. So the guy behind me pretty loudly said yes. He would give a dollar. I could not explain why I kept the dollar or why I stared at that walker and that boy. I could just drive home and cry.

I'm going to try and be better scheduled for a while and see if that helps -I'm going to try and exercise more, and pray more, and even blog more (often not length!) . And if that doesn't work I am going to go and beg for new and improved hormones and ignore the studies.

I'm not saying it makes sense

No broken bones (yesterdays xrays)but 91 years has battered her a bit. And when my mom is trying not to be a "burden" then it seems the most like one. Life is funny.

Jesse thought the photographing was all about him when we stopped in the Rockies last summer to join the other tourists shooting away at this poor resting elk. But he was enjoying it (Jesse not the elk).

I am down even though we still managed to sled today even as the melting snow is making rivers down our sad broken gutters. Jesse introduced us the "flashlight sledding". But I couldn't help noticing how he towered over the kids in the Music Together (plug) class today - all young preschoolers and he is almost not a preschooler. I tried to remember when he was that age. And I couldn't really. Already. What will I be like if I live to mom's age? What will I remember? I want it all back -but if I go back to when my guys were little there would be no Jesse. That is something this age span makes too hard -picking a time you could go back to even if you could. This is silly. Mugging for the camera even now and none of the other tourists notice. I am tired and the world seems so full of lies I can not set straight (or even disentangle) and time does what it always does and I just seem to watch it and not do a thing about it.

Try the "Why worry" video again -it works today. Why not.

So you can see upkeep on the hot tub exterior is behind schedule but the sled run? Even as I type I hear the shoveling as he of the engineering mind is, in the dark, continuing to perfect it, improving the banking, extending the distance. As of this morning it was probably the safest route out of the house. Every time Caleb exits I walk with him so he can brace the crutch tip on my shoe instep if needed (I'm so glad I have great snow boots). I'd just returned from dropping him off at the bus (finally running again) (and where he told me as he got on he hadn't checked anyone was meeting him to help get to class) when my mom told me she had lied to Bernie. I was OK with that. But she had lied when she told him she was fine this morning. She was not. So phone calls were made and ... more phone calls were made... and a few more and I was ready to take her to her GP (1+ hours away) and the sled master was ready to come home and take Jesse to the firehouse for the preschool field trip and then preschool for the long delayed Valentine's Day party and well alot of stuff like that. And it took 20 minutes to get Grandma over the ice and to the car (I'm thinking we should have put the sled run on the front porch). Naturally I drove off with the only set of keys to the car the man planned to use and he lost (and eventually found) his work badges and the GP ordered xrays and... well alot of stuff like that. I did drive the bit farther and let mom at least see her house was still standing. That was good if frustrating since I didn't want her to get out and see the water damage from the burst pipe 2 weeks ago.

Naturally after one of those lectures last night where everyone (including me) seems to be staring blankly at one another I had the great idea of starting a "Discussion forum" on Blackboard (which I still hate) and offering extra credit for participation. Which meant I must be checking it, and I needed to send the TAs the latest grading guidelines and ... well alot of stuff like that.

When Jesse got in bed with me "to cuddle" yesterday morning he finally turned to me and sorrowfully pointed out, "You're just lying there with your eyes closed!" You can sympathize with me can't you? I did put my arms around him then and as he squished into me he said, "Now that is cuddle-ing." So I shouldn't be whining.

Some one said something to me that was meant to be (and was) very nice about my saying " 'Yes' to life". The thing is that really pretty often I'm saying something much more like, "No, I don't think so," or occasionally, "Not now, I have a headache." Life just doesn't listen.

God on the other hand -He does... and then I have to apologise.

cowboys in the snow

I had a Martha Stewart moment yesterday and made Jesse a hobby horse. We drew a picture and picked the old sock and stuffed it, and glued on a mane and reins and painted a face and Voila! "I don't like it," he said as I handed it to him. And that is where being a battle hardened mom comes in handy, because I could laugh and know that in about 10 minutes he would change his mind. He did.

Later, I was thinking about the hardening from those "negative social views of handicaps" my niece had interviewed me about. They missed one. Perhaps not the worst but the most common in malls and pretty annoying. It is just hard to give it a name. It is that this-really-isn't-so-bad-it-doesn't-have-to-make-me-think-life-is-unfair reaction. The reaction that meant for years (basicly until the facial hair came in and he was not a cute little guy) I couldn't walk through a mall without someone having to say to me, "Oh, he's doing so well!" or "You're doing such a good job!" To the first I responded, "Really? Yesterday he could walk without crutches," and to the second, "Yes, I haven't beat him in public all day." Or at least I said these things behind my frozen smile and nodding head. Nod and smile. It is a handy skill.

snowbound II

I read today that "millions" of people were "demoralized" by the second blizzard in 2 days - I was demoralized that we only got about 3 more inches. I have become greedy for snow and the 20+ inches we already had is just not enough. Everything stops for the snow. Caleb is snowbound with a family from church who picked him up from classes yesterday since the buses weren't running (well they often help him get to the bus) and he had packed extra stuff just in case -and then the blizzard was late getting here so we really could have gotten him -but why spoil the fun? My engineering husband made a sled run that started at the top of the porch steps and wrapped around to go into the back yard. I answered email questions about identifying the variables in a questionnaire and fumed about pharisaical tendencies in otherwise perfectly decent people (Titheing mint!) and helped my niece by being the interviewee for her class on teaching people with disabilities. The topic for that last thing was society's negative views of people with... an hour of providing examples and then the "positive" questions -what were our "great expectations" and his? how about relationships? Nope, not cheering me up. There was at least a perverse glee in affirming the bad behavior in society at large. Gusting winds inside and out. But Grandma could sit by the window to watch the sledders and the birds, and the snow is beautiful and glows blue and it cools my burning cheeks. Rumors of another storm just tantalize us. Everyone else demoralizes us.

Why worry?

There is alot I could worry about. There's the weather of course, the stock market, bureaucrats, general social decay. And then there's my own ones to worry about in case no one else is: the shy daughter away at college, the 4 year old, the one with crutches, shunt and seizures, my "a-ged" mother (as she calls herself)... but isn't this the guy I'm not supposed to worry about? (His good red bearded friend is just an innocent bysitter). If you don't understand just wait until the end of the video and look where the others are looking. And yes, I forgot I was taking a video. I forget what I'm doing alot lately.

snowbound

Seriously. This looks adorable. And like he knows what he is doing. I finally had to stop watching from the lounge window as he gesticulated to his group instructor and tried to take off one ski and put on the other and just generally, and clearly even from a distance, tried to do things his was. The important thing though is that this picture is awesome.

We are at a ski resort. It was a plan long before the Great Big Blizzard of the East was a twinkle in anyone's eyes. we had set Caleb up for 2 days "sit" skiing -something he has done once or twice a year for years with an organization that does adaptive sports. He love it. This year I decided we should all go along and Jesse was ready for lessons. So I made all the arrangements, my sister said she'd come stay with mom. And then the forecasters started their thing. I sobbed when I heard travel might be impossible Friday night. I was desperate. We booked another night (at this point we might as well have flown to Bermuda (hyperbole)) and I left Thursday night. Bernie, with son #2 and friend, left early Friday morning -by which I mean 12:30am. Still that was a good choice. The mountains were slick by morning light.

We settled in. The skiing for Caleb was canceled Saturday but the other big boys still snowboarded in the blowing snow. I just worked on Ppt slides so I'd be free the play by the time the sun came out. Good plan huh?

Thing is some how I ended up the one holding the boots, trading coats with Caleb when his zipper broke, and not being fond of my husband when he opted to ski (as I had encouraged him to do), stuck in the "Welcome Center" with free internet but no car, no food, a long walk from the condo, and still hauling around the boots, and my batteries are running down. I am still working on feeling very sorry for myself. I'd like to say I have kept it to myself but I had to call the skiing husband to pick me up and drive me here when I got lost walking from the ski lodge (no internet there without a password) -so he could kinda tell at that point I was not so happy. Actually I had not completely revealed my secret until , noticing my snippyness, the man asked, "Wasn't this supposed to be a relaxing break?" Oh boy. Yeah. See the boots I am carrying because you didn't want to put them back in the car and failed to notice that I would have to them around for 4 hours? Or the lecture prep I made myself finish yesterday to be "free" today, or the cooking and... -no I actually skipped the cooking complaint. Even I know I kept professing to enjoy it- and I did until he said that. Then suddenly I was totally abused. And really, the boots are those cute little frog rainboots of Jesse's (in case you were picturing something a bit more burdensome).

When will I stop thinking I can run away and not find myself waiting where-ever I go?

Some one sent a response to my last blog but I don't think I can reply directly so let me answer the question here. No, I do not know about the Defense Travel System because I am in the military. I know about it because I am a poor innocent victim whose husband is a civilian working for the military and I spend many lonely hours waiting for him to return from doing travel ... paperwork. If I can't sleep I ask him to explain the DTS to me and as my eyes glaze over and I drift off I am vaguely aware of him beginning to seethe and his blood boiling so not only do I get to sleep but I am also warmer.

Otherwise my topic du jour is it being February already and I wasn't even really getting started with January. The graduate class I am teaching is taking much more time this semester because I am trying to make the students happier by providing more complete Powerpoint slides. Now they are beginning to look like I do when what's his name starts talking about the DTS, as I read through them -and yet I still had a student ask if I could post the "important" points from the discussion after I go through the slides. Really. I am earning my sainthood because I did NOT say there were no important points. Someday some one should do a study on how Ppt has destroyed education as we knew it. No slides and they complain, add comments as you go they complain you should post those too, don't add comments and you are "just reading through" -then why even bother coming to class? Oh and when I write things on the chalkboard there is the contingent that wants it on a "Smart board" so it can be saved. Take notes? Come to class? That is so unrealisitic! Reality check. This is a vent. The vast majority of the students are not like this. Then again they don't whine so I don't hear them. And I just keep tryin to grease the squeeky wheel ....$%&^()_+ not actual bad words but as I wrote that last sentence I remembered the bread rising in the oven (off) that had a lovely caraway and salt topping -2, almost 3 hours ago. I just had to re- punch it down so the topping is now a filling (ish) and I will be up late waiting for it to rise again and bake. It seemed like a good idea to make bread this evening- no, - now it is in the refridgerator and hopefully the yeast (exhausted by now anyway) will rest and can start over in the morning.

Does this explain why I haven't been blogging? This was supposed to be my free time. The thing about "caretaking" (for lack of a better word but when I have more energy the first thing I'm going to do is come up with a better word) is the constant little alarms and interuptions. Jesse has been much more independent lately, entertaining himself (when he isn't entertaining me) but that also means unexpected 4 yr old initiated activities. Today it was a trip for Grandma to see his room. That's right. Suddenly on their schedule -not mine, my mom is going to climb the stairs to see his new bed. He cheered her along, "Good job grandma. You are the best, I am poud of you." Still I couldn't exactly stay in the kitchen (or at the computer) during all this. And she made it and I did not have to cushion her fall -which is about the best I could have done. And meanwhile I had to run up and down and up and down to keep up with laundry etc etc. With this much exercise I should be losing weight.

But no, my out-let has been cooking since we all need to eat. And boy do we. Last week it was sea scallops in white wine and garlic with grilled steak, potatoes fried in olive oil (after precooking in microwave), and spinach sauteed in the scallop pan juices, then chicken thighs with sundried tomatoes, fresh herbs (cold, but fresh), dried mushrooms, more white wine, all over rice. Pancakes with grated apple and cottage cheese and cinnamon, pancakes with blueberries and homemade syrup with hazlenut liquer, biscuits with grated cheddar with carmelized onions (I have no idea where this cheese came from but I found it in my fridge -thanks to whoever left it here). Impromptu cheese sauce (the way my mom taught me to do it), everything from scratch, all coated in butter and/or olive oil to lessen my guilt. I cook for affirmation. I can get this right. Well except the bread, at least not tonight.

And Caleb. He is getting to class but more than that I don't ask. If I do he might tell me something that would worry me. My sweet shy daughter is being pulled into those college dramas -not the ones on stage but if you are a female you know what I mean. The other son has a lovely girlfriend. I still love the old one. My eyes are closed -just tell me when we get there.

The snow is beautiful. So is all this other stuff.

That's me. An excellent likeness. Jesse says his older brother put those things on me sticking out of my head and that there is a hole for a chipmunk by my feet. And when I cut his hair yeaterday he threw himself on the floor when he saw himself in the mirror crying ,"I'm not awsome and strong anymore." Sure enough same older brother sticking things into my head had told him his hair made him strong. After some assuring him this was not true I went back to folding laundry downstairs and along he comes and annouces, "You are wight Mom. I am still awesome." Ah, self esteeem.

Meanwhile Grandma is not feeling so great. The gluing of the other vertebrae just didn't do anything. Not better, not worse. I think. It is hard to sort it out since the one thing my mom is not good at is tracking her own pain. She lies to me, she lies to herself. She just can't admit it hurts until it is way past hurt or she is just generally lousy feeling. Unfortunately there has been a lot of that lately. I asked one evening how she was and she said (forlornly), "Fine, I'm just hoping I'll be able to find clean underwear tomorrow." I told her hope was a good thing. Much better than actually letting me know she had run out of clean underwear. I was willing to hope too. She doesn't want to be a bother. She also doesn't want to get out of bed much or go without coffee.

The college girl is back but not without a little drama first (think speeding when your driver's license has expired which you put off telling anyone about because who has time to go to the DMV and they didn't send a notice). Still, and even if it weren't for the babysitting, I miss her alot. Jesse took me ona "flashlight" adventure and we explored the basement and saw "Carowin's bed" and he said he would cry he missed her so (he didn't but it is the thought that counts). And Caleb has started classes -so I have started stressing every Tuesday and Thursday over his getting the bus and getting home and all that. His stammer seem especially bad right now (it has always fluctuated) so when he does call I hold my breath until he gets out that he wanted to know if he could buy lunch... or something that is not really a reason to stop breathing at all.

And then there is my other life not doing laundry and fetching drinks and worrying about children big and small. I spent an hour yesterday trying to print out and save a class roster because Blackboard (tm I'm sure) is the most horrendous piece of software ever devised (excepting the Defense Travel System of course). And then I spent 2 hours in the evening covering a chalk board with numbers and arrows only some of which I had to erase or apologise for. If they only knew! I'm just hoping I find clean underwear tomorrow.

A New Year (old dead cat)

Nothing changes around here but the cats. This one is gone (still) but the metallic confetti covers my house again. This must be about the 15th New Year to be ushered in by letting children glitter my house. It doesn't seem crazy to me. We get up some (children and confetti come to think of it) to reuse the next year, and some just goes in the vacuum bag (confetti only) and some, the lightest pieces, floats behind the furniture and into the vents to reappear some dull day in the future and remind me that the year began with hooting and shouting and fizzy drinks and children being very silly. True this year only one of mine was being VERY silly -joined by two neighbor kids and abetted by two much calmer older siblings.

My mom stayed in her bed and watched a clock that was 10 minutes fast so she thought she was being ignored for the ringing in -but she was not and 2 very thoughtful young people (only one of whom I take credit for) toasted it with her. True we did leave her behind for the illegal fireworks but only because she would have slowed us down if the police came by. (For the record I only watched them and had nothing to do with their importation or use -other than thanking the criminals for sharing of course).

So on this the first business day of the New Year I called the doctor's office to check on the MRI results from last week. Another cracked vertebrae and another appointment to cement it back -after another appointment for no medical value except to dot the i's on the Medicare paperwork. I wanted to curl up and scream just because of the scheduling (my first lecture ofr the semester on the eveing of the procedure naturally). And I can't say my mom took this well. It is hard seeing her be in pain and all that but it is also hard realizing that some of her toughness over the years has been that she really has had very few physical ailments to deal with. She actually said to me this evening when her walker got pushed aside that we just didn't realize what it was to a handicapped person and that was why we didn't push it back immediately. She said this sitting across from my Caleb. I tried to tell her we were just tired and forgot and she insisted it was a lack of understanding for handicaps. Now mostly I think my mother is practically perfect in everyway but this was one of those moments when I did not. How she could think after almost 25 years we don't get it I'm not sure. Look, I know she is way better about all this aging than I will be (except I swear by whatever I'm allowed to swear by, in keeping my teeth), but evn she can be difficult at times.

My other half and I are going to make a list of the things we will NOT do when we are old, or in-laws (I mean the parental kind, it's too late for the sibling ones) or grandparents. We are going to make this list and put it somewhere safe and well labeled so we will see it when the time comes and REMEMBER.

Tomorrow Caleb starts classes. His sister, who has sometimes* been known to get lost, is driving him in. He can't read the map on the college website and Jesse is supposed to return to preschool from the Holiday break but has announced his "real friends" aren't there and only "4 year olds" are and he is "done" with preschool. And I am trying to finish writing a synopsis of some research articles, grade a comp and prepare those blasted Powerpoint slides so the students won't complain about notetaking this semester. And I am trying to lose weight the hard way -that is without giving up any actual food or exercising. Just through sheer will power and will power alone. I will let you know how it goes. Carolyn made a chocolate cake -I am just being supportive.

*delicately worded in case she reads this