the picture tells the story

... but mostly it's staged. Yes, he hit a plastic ball with a plastic bat into a very old window. But the look on my face is from trying not to laugh and he was simply being a ham posing there and looking remorseful. I mean he was sorry -kinda. But mostly he was living the drama. Probably if this had been either of his brothers 18 or 20 years ago I'd have been truly upset. Also, this being Grandma's house she would have been in on it too along with any aunts or uncles who heard about it. There would have been no need of acting skills. But this isn't 18 or 20 years ago and although it is Grandma's house she knew we'd be the ones replacing the pane and she only knew about the break because we told her -she needs something exciting. And this being 18 or 20 years later I've pretty well used up any outrage over the things little boys do (I don't mean in general of course -that would be sexist. I just mean as far as my boys and girls were concerned). Broken windows are easy now. They are fixable. It's not cold  so no warmth can escape and since there's no "central cooling" more ventilation is fine.
  What isn't fixable is being 96. I can't slow time down and I can't... . The thing about taking care of a very old and ill person is the only way my job will get easier is if... or if... Do I need to say I don't want my mother to die? Of course I don't! Except when I do. I am pretty sure I am not supposed to say that. If someone would tell me what else she has to look forward to here on earth (besides a nice dinner and a glass of wine) please do. The thing is I never want her to die now. Not too long from now, but never now. When she was so weak she couldn't make it to the table yesterday I tenderly fed her. (Grilled salmon and asparagus, OK?) She felt better after that. Back to normal today. And by normal I mean tired and in pain and grumpily making it to the table and asking for her coffee to be hotter and I find my tenderness all for myself. I may even feed myself... but very tenderly.
  So the good news is I don't sweat the windows because this job has an end I can freely look forward to. He's going to grow up and have to take care of me.

waiting (rolling and waiting)

Here "we" are at a Children's hospital. The parking lot security asked if we were there for a meeting and I had to wave the crutches at him and say, "No, appointment." Actually the car was too small to actually wave the crutches at him so I more sort of just shook them. Garmin had directed us via the most densely populated city streets possible to get there but some how we were still on time. Even after waiting in line to check in. We waited in line with all the small children and and a few teenagers. I felt very sorry for myself. Then I'd see the children in the special strollers with the head supports and with various tubes strapped here and there and then my self-pity vanished. Not really. Then it became guilty self pity.
At least my boy here said he rather enjoyed the Disney Princess show on the waiting room tv. He thought it was really amusingly odd.
 We got home in time for me to give Grandma her shot and to pick up the boy in 3rd grade and his best friend for a play date. And I made dinner (and did the laundry). I'm not sure my self-pity was guilty at that point. I mean it probably should have been but I was on a roll.

Far far away

 It wasn't that long ago though. But I have noticed the last few years that every time I run away when I get back I can't quite remember what it was like anywhere else. This is why I have 5,000 pictures of Kauia on my computer -and that's after editing out the un-necessary ones.
My sweet sweet husband told me the other day that I am not good with the elderly or the handicapped.  It's true. I seem nice on the outside. I look very perky at the hospital and doctor's offices. I cheerfully give shots, and pack wounds and smile and nod when the surgeon explains how easy it will be to just gently push my mom's ... whatever you call the lump escaping through the hernia - back where it belongs. I stay at the table and smile and nod. But then I am afraid it must show that I really need to get to the other room to do some meaningful work -which turns out to be another round of spider solitaire.
 And lately I have made the discovery that while emotional outbursts are exhausting it is almost more exhausting to constantly push down the emotional outbursts and not run screaming out of the room saying , "No, no, no more." The people (and by this I mostly mean my mom) who have told me all my life how much easier it would be to stay calm aren't people who actually have to STAY calm -they simply are calm. One of my mother's biggest complaints (after the coffee being too cold and the water too warm) is that after years of calmness she find herself ready to cry often -and I say, "Welcome to my world."  It turns out that there is a price to pay for all this self control, all the saying, "yes, yes, the more the merrier." I'm not saying it isn't worth it. I'm just saying it's not as cheap as I thought. And every now and then it just seems to burst out anyway...

Crashing

I am trying to blog as a way to let off steam and then I realized the kettle has burned dry. So maybe I am like the double minded man crashing helpless on the shore only to roll back into the endless sea of despair and regret. Other than this being an excellent description of motherhood it only barely fits in with my Kauai rainbow picture. But I will make it work.

Nobody getting much work done here between taking one for ears to be cleaned and one for bloodwork -always a hunt for her tiny little veins. Neither patient was the kitten by the by.

Fairly well

 .. but not fair THEE well.
  Today's topic is fairness. Or  How fairness almost ruined my life.

Once upon a time a boy was born too soon, too small, too weak, too blue. Then time went by too fast. Trying to find a pre-school meant running the gauntlet of administrators who worried if it would be "fair to the teachers,"  "fair to the other students," and probably, most of all, fair to the liability lawyers (they are so busy!). Time kept going by far too fast and many more things happened. It became more and more difficult to calculate the fairness factor. Grandma came and didn't feel it was "fair" to ask the young man to help her. It was hard to decide who had the unfair part. The mother (daughter) became confused and tired. Help came in packets of what was "fair". The statistician part of the narrator tried to regress the entire function. It didn't look good. The kitten scratched her hand, tried to eat her hair...

    Oh, that's what I meant to blog about: We got a girl-kitten. Grandma loves it. So does the 9 year old, the daughter with her first job saving up for her first (non-college) apartment and the here and there son and girlfriend. The husband and the eldest (the once upon a time boy) aren't so sure. I'm still nursing my hand (when I'm not dangling it temptingly over her). Grandma turned 96 last month. I'll tell you about the hernia later.

Envy

My mother turned 96, 2 days ago. My baby turned 9, 2 weeks ago. My first born turned 29, 2  months ago.
(As a a professor I feel compelled to point out I'm rounding to make for better symmetry) (If you are anything like my students you wish I wouldn't).  This isn't getting easier.

My mother says almost every time she sees me doing anything that she is envious of  my ability to do -anything. She is envious of my "young legs". She is envious that my husband is still alive. She is envious that I'm a "doctor". I try to point out that at my age she was very active too. In fact probably more so -and she hadn't been on blodd pressure medication for more than 10 years already -and that is when she moves on the degree and the husband because I can't say she had those things. So I win. Only it doesn't feel like it.
 I am just weary. The last year I keep telling myself I will at least write things down again but I can't remember why and I can't seem to figure out how to get a laugh out of much of it.
 I try to tell her it would be nice if she was proud of me rather than envious - I don't go on to even try to explain how guilty and ...confused it makes me feel when it sounds as if she would be happer if I weren't still walking, or married, or terminally degreed. Or as if I should be sure not to flaunt any of these things in front of her - although I'm not sure what constitutes flaunting. It's not as if anyone ever treats her as anything but the wise grandma who, as my children say "knows everything". Even if she doesn't always remember it anymore.
  So if you have wandered back here and followed along, and to give myself that sense of narrative purpose here's a liitle catching up since January: Grandma was with her other daughter (the one who reads to her more) from January through March 22. Grandma has a hernia and oxygen now to go with all else, and shots 3xs a week for blood boosting and bloodwork 1x week to check on that and a local doctor who wants to recheck and redo everythings done while she was in Maryland.
  The 29 year old had a cyst that had to drained on his back after it became infected and then an open wound that had to be "packed" and dressed everyday (middle of back, handicap or know you'd have to have someone else do this for you). Turns out I can do shots, colostomy care, clean stitiches, clean in general - but not clean open wounds and push gauze under cut flaps of skin. Unh unh. Can't do it. Fortunately that husband I'm so lucky to still have can.
   The college graduate girl has gotten a job -much faster than we anticipated, and a kitten so my free help and child care is now more of another boarder. Don't get me wrong -I am thrilled the job is close, and want her to stay until she can save for a place of her own (and hoping that takes awhile) but I definitely could have used her unemployed until the end of the semester.
 Speaking of which as adjuncts are used less I took on more since I doubt it will be offered again (teaching next year? who knows!) - that has meant commuting 3xs a week and juggling 3 lectures a week and 100 plus students.
 Then there was the weather. Well, no need to fill anyone in on that. 
Also I went to Hawaii TWO TIMES since January. Envy that.

still under water

So really Kauia was amazing and this has to be the best family vacation picture ever. The snorkeling company we were with (they take you out in a zodiac) had a photographer along because they were working on a new website. So here we all are, mom, dad and the 2 youngest - one of whom just graduated from college on the 5 and 1/2 year plan and one missing a week of 3rd grade. "Dad" (or "hey dad...as he is known in the family) is going down for a better shot. The 8 year old's right next to mom because he still wasn't too sure about snorkeling and was being bribed to keep his head down (he did have to put his head :up to shout, "this is awesome"- which sounds kinda funny underwater. Maybe that is why the turtle is diving away. Still it all was pretty awesome. Right before this we'd been watching a humpback and calf repeatedly breeching and splashing back into the sea. Just close enough to be amazing but not scary. We pretty well ran out of adjectives while we were there. We knew real life was continuing on the "mainland" as we islanders like to call every where else, but we ignored it. The occasional text updating us that Grandma was in the hospital again just floated on by. I left the messages in the bottle. I felt so young there...
 ... which is about when the bursitis kicked in. Three weeks later and Grandma is back with her other daughter and I am still on "break" except for teaching 2 classes and trying not to confuse them. One is twice a week undergrad, the other once a week grad students but meeting in the same room which makes it hard to remember where I am lecture wise at moments (bad moments, moments I am again glad no one else hears the voices in my head). It's like that for my mom I guess. Only much worse. She knows she is forgetting what she just said. But it's up and down so sometimes it seems like she is just the same mom she has been for so very, very long. And then I see that a little bit of her is not quite here. And I am the same girl too I was and then some doctor has to tell me they can see I have spinal arthritis but of course it's just what they see at my age. My daughter told us (mom and dad) that we still look like teenagers - just old ones. Underwater this might be true. Especially since American teens today weigh more than they used to. Anyway I can't sleep worrying the college grad won't get a job - and neither will I after this semester.
  And we got the eldest new orthotics, still at the local Children's hospital since no one else really does CP. I actually haven't seen them yet since the only time I saw him this week was when he was on his way to the Y for swimming and the "boots" don't float (and neither will the bill -ha ha, a medical cost joke). I am looking forward to going back to the islands...