I feel like I have spent a lot of time (The term “waxing poetic” comes to mind but then I started to wonder what it actually means. I have waxed certain body parts and there is absolutely nothing poetic about it. Besides, the term doesn’t quite fit, so) writing about all of my mixed emotions with me returning to work full-time in an office. I miss out on ten hours a day of home life while my husband holds it all together. Upon my arrival home we have dinner, make lunches for the next day, get homework done, watch American Idol. I am engaged from the minute I get home until the moment the kids are laying there with those imaginary “Zzzzzz’s” above their heads.
Our weekends are full to the brim with togetherness. I wanted to give Matthew a break from parenting on Saturday so that he could have some time to get stuff done. I ended up carting them around for NINE HOURS between groceries, ballet, a trip to the mall (We lived to tell about it!) and a trip to my friend’s home salon to get my hair done. Sunday consisted of church and hosting some family members for dinner. We’ve been immersed in togetherness over here. While the weekends are a little, shall we say, chaotic they are good and fun and a good balance to the weekdays where I’m gone during the day.
The “working mom” guilt has eased up a bit. The kids are adjusting to me being gone and I’m getting used to my new routine. They’re still super excited when I walk in the door but leaving in the morning has been a little less heart wrenching. We’re getting into the groove of it all. This means, of course, that I have to go and throw a wrench into the works.
If you’ve been around here for any length of time, you know that I abhor winter with the fierceness normally reserved for things like social injustice or skinny jeans. Last winter was a particularly long one and my husband ordered me to get myself down to California to soak up some sun. I did, and we all had such a great time that we decided to make Desperate Bloggers an annual event. I booked my plane tickets months ago…long before I knew I would be returning to work full-time at the office.
I’ve been vacillating between sheer excitement to see (the sun, and) my friends and feeling like a Bad Mom for going away for the weekend. Thankfully for me, I have a husband who will more than fill my void when I’m gone and who has told me to GO and HAVE FUN. Heck, he even told me to treat myself to a hotel for half of my stay (The other two nights will be split between couches belonging to Sarah and Brenda) so that I could have some alone time. He pointed out that I will soon be working overtime and have no plans to go away again until New York (for BlogHer) in August. He’s also planning a few snowmobiling weekends away, which means that we’ll be even on the solo-parenting front.
So, I’m going to go on my trip (Today!) without any guilt. I’m going to miss my family terribly, yes, but I’m also going enjoy just being me for a couple of days. I’m going to soak up the sun, take hundreds of photos and spend time with some particularly rad people. Then I’ll return home refreshed and ready to jump back into this (hectic, yet) fabulous life with my family.
Have a great weekend, folks. I know I’m sure going to.
Over at Work It! Mom: Kissing is good for you
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As I mentioned the other day, my Dad was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) last month. He has had an aching pain on the left side of his chest and had lost a bit of muscle mass. He was sent for a bunch of specialized tests and based on the symptoms and markers, he received that awful diagnosis. He was booked for a second opinion with his doctor’s “mentor” but second opinions are required under BC Medical when the diagnosis is of a terminal nature. We’ve all been hoping for the best but preparing for the worst. The symptoms and markers don’t lie, you know? Plus, his appointment was at G.F. Strong, which is a rehabilitation center.
Today, my Dad had his second opinion appointment. The doctor performed a bunch of tests, looked at his chart, and then stated something along the lines of…
“I don’t want to paint the other Doctor in a bad light, but none of these symptoms and markers that he documented in your file are there. You’ve have lost some muscle mass, but the muscle strength is fine and you have none of the markers. We can rule out ALS.”
MY DAD DOES NOT HAVE ALS.
He still has that nagging discomfort and reduced muscle mass on his left side, so he has to go for a few tests to rule out heart problems. If it’s not his heart, it may be some pinched nerves. PINCHED NERVES.
Cynics may deduce that the other doctor is an idiot but from what I understand he’s well-respected. I also know that last month my Dad had the symptoms and markers of ALS and now, he does not. I firmly believe that this is a result of the prayers, thoughts, wishes, vibes and SHAZAM thrown at him by you guys and so many others. I think we’ve just witnessed a miracle here, my friends. Thanks for being a part of it.
God is bigger than ALS, indeed.
When Matthew and I decided to have a third child, we did so only because we knew we needed one more to complete our family. Having two boys of our own and three nephews on his side of the family with nary a girl in sight, we were expecting that we would add another boy to our den. While not “trying” for a girl, I would be lying if I said that I did not hope for a girl. I cannot fathom not wanting someone of your own gender, wired similar to you, to help to balance out the Lego and the Wrestling and the TESTOSTERONE. When people would ask about the situation I would do my best to give reasons why another boy would be so rad: We already had the clothes! The baby would have two Big Dudes to show him the way! I wouldn’t have to deal with a TEENAGE GIRL.
Of course, as soon as the doctor and nurse screamed, “IT’S A GIRL!!!” I flung my trepidation out the window. With her being three I have yet to deal with the social issues that are so inherent with being a girl. The rejection by people who you thought were your friends who then turn on you, the unrequited love (At thirteen, OH EM GEE), the hormones that turn even the most compliant child (Me) into a being that needs to take a long walk off of a short pier.
One of the things I love to do is watch my girl dance. This is only her first year and she is merely three but she really does love to do ballet. I sit there, enraptured, while shooting (at least) eighty-seven photos in thirty minutes. There’s just something about a girl in a bodysuit and tutu that grabs your heart, hugs it, and then sets it flying.
Another highlight of watching Emily in her class is watching how she and Amanda’s daughter Avelyn interact with each other. Whenever the music stops they look for each other and stand side by side. This past weekend they took the cuteness up a notch. They started telling secrets.
Hey, Avelyn. I have something to tell you. My parents are away this weekend and I plan on throwing a party.
I have a crush on Jonah. Do you think that he’ll come to the party?
Oh, totally. Do you think he’ll bring his hot friend Sam?
OF COURSE. Why WOULDN’T he?
We’re in this together, my friend. Let’s make it happen.
OK. Amanda and I (obviously) had no idea what they were whispering to each other but we were equally enamored by how adorable they were with the whispering. The party talk can wait until they are twenty. Riiiiiight.
The neat thing about this interchange is that I was reminded about the good part of growing up as a girl. There are dolls to be played with and friends to eat Sour Patch Kids with and trips to the movie theater and sleepovers where no sleep actually happens and school crushes that make you crazy and stupid fights with friends about those stupid boys and slow dances at the school with those same stupid boys and…
And.
She is only three but she seems like she’s five and while a large part of me misses the baby another part of me is excited to become a little girl again, whenever she needs me to be one.
Over at Work It! Mom: Are separate vacations good for a marriage?
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I haven’t really said much about my Dad since I shared the fact that he has been diagnosed with ALS. There are a myriad of reasons for my silence: the busy holiday season, my return to work, my fear of coming across as trying to play up the drama for the sake of attention. I would hate to disrespect my Dad in any way by making it about me but I have come to the realization that it affects me and thus, really is a little bit about me.
I’m doing…OK. The first week after finding out I was like a woman with PMS that had gone radioactive. As a woman who has one doozy of a day per month, to have a full week of that kind of day, but on steroids, was a little bit much for me to bear. I took the suggestion by a few of you to read Tuesdays With Morrie. It might seem a little crazy but the words of wisdom shared by Morrie in the midst of his deterioration helped to balance out the reality of the suffering that is to come. Regardless, I was often a big, weepy mess. Matthew asked me if I was going to make it through. I did, he did, we all did.
I took Morrie’s advice. I acknowledged my fear, my sadness, my trepidation for the future. I cried it out, worked it out, wrote it out. Then I set it free. I knew those feelings were not gone forever but I chose to let them fly until I needed to tackle them again.
I got back into my usual routine of looking at the positive and focusing on the here and now. “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will take care of itself.” I have talked to my Dad pretty regularly and he is doing well. He has days where he feels no symptoms whatsoever. The days that he does feel them, they are more of a niggling discomfort, as opposed to an unbearable pain. He’s been filling his time with crossword puzzles and quick trips to the Casino and cracking out the paints and canvas that my siblings bought him for Christmas. He’s been learning how to use his computer and leaves the cutest comments ever. He married his Best Girl Gail on New Year’s Eve and the photos brought me tears of joy. Gail said she only cried when the commissioner said the “In sickness and in health” line. They were to drive up here the next day but winter snowstorms negated that plan. We’ve still yet to see them since hearing the news but it will have to wait until they return from the Caribbean cruise they head out on next week.
I’ve been fine because I focus on the here and now. He’s pretty much the same as ever and is packing his life with goodness. He told me that he feels like this is actually a bit of a blessing because instead of passing suddenly, he has time to see everyone, talk to everyone and make the most of every moment.
So, why am I sitting here writing through tears? Because it is time to tackle my feelings again. Perfectly fitting that I use the term “tackle” as I start writing this; my husband and brother are watching Sunday afternoon football. Sunday morning was spent in church and for the first time since the diagnosis I was in attendance for the portion where we are asked if there is anything that our church family can pray about. I stood, choked up, fanned my face in a failed attempt to stop the tears and was finally able to breathe. I told them about my Dad and asked simply that he not suffer. Most people ask for miracles, and I do too when praying in private, but miracle or not I want him not to be pain-free. I believe that God is bigger than ALS yet I fear asking for more than God has planned. I don’t know if it’s a lack of faith so much, but a lack of hope. There is no known cause for ALS and no known cure. No radiation, no chemotherapy, nothing. I want to believe that God can choose to heal my Dad but I’m scared of being disappointed because the evidence is not in my favor.
Stupid logical mind.
I was blessed to be flanked by two girls who were the exact thing I needed. One is a prayer warrior and one recently lost her Mom with no warning. We missed the bulk of the sermon as we were sharing our thoughts and experiences and man, it was what I needed. I feel like I have kind of shoved my feelings down this past week and it feels good to get it out. Its going to be a long road of ups and downs and while I’m a little down while writing this, it’s all for good. Acknowledge it, feel it, move on.
We are all mortals and will eventually die. We often forget that fact because we are so all-consumed with life but the reality is there. I’m choosing to take my Dad’s (tentative) deadline as a reminder to pack this life with as much awesome as I can. I truly believe in Heaven and that it will be exponentially greater than life here on Earth but that does not mean that life here should be anything less than amazing. I’m going to love fully, live dangerously and take ridiculous chances.
I would be a fool not to.
First of all, thank you so much for all of the birthday wishes. You guys made my day that much brighter. I didn’t mean to leave the post up for so long but life has that nasty habit of getting in the way. Though spending a great evening out with these ladies was the polar opposite of nasty.
I really do have the greatest friends on the planet.
Something that has been on my mind lately is the fact that based on the tiny snippets of my life I post here, I may not give the complete picture. This is obviously not a bad thing because there are many things that are not for general consumption. But I would hate to think that I come across as painting my family as picture-perfect, complete with sunshine and rainbows and a choir singing in the background.
The truth of the matter is that apart from the occasional bump in the road, my life is pretty spectacular. As for those hiccups that surprise me along the way, some are ones I can talk about and some I simply cannot. Well, I could, but they’ve usually caused me enough tears by that point that the fallout of sharing it is something I couldn’t bear.
If we’re talking about the every day annoyances, those often do not need to be shared either. Take my kids. They’ll throw out bad attitude, or swipe a toy, or melt down because YOU’RE SO MEAN NOT LETTING ME HAVE CHOCOLATE FOR BREAKFAST. The truth of the matter is those instances are such a small percentage of our day that to ramble on about them all the time would cast an unfair light on my kids. Because they really are fantastic little beings. One example:
For my birthday they made me handmade cards and each of them gave me some of their OWN money from their PIGGY BANK and told me to “buy something pretty”. Best. Kids. Ever.
As for Matthew, I read a post somewhere a while ago where the writer said that to not post the bad things about your husband was wrong. I disagree. We promised to love, honor, etcetera each other. If I write big, ranty posts about him, how is that building him up? If he were to (have a blog, and) write such things about me, I’d be pretty hurt. Making jokes about little things is one thing; tearing him down in a public forum is just not something I will ever do.
There is also the fact that he really doesn’t give me any fodder for complaining. No word of a lie. Ask anyone who knows or has met him – he’s well-loved and respected by them all.
The flipside to not posting any negative things about him is that I have also been greatly remiss at singing his praises on this here space. There have been mentions of his greatness, yes, but I think that I have dropped the ball (or twenty of them) when it comes to sharing the full extent of his supercalifragilisticexpialidocious nature. My poor portrayal of him come to light since returning to work and having (well-meaning) comments about how this will be good for him to understand how hard it is being a full-time parent. I brought that up at dinner with the girls and they found it as funny as I do because they know him well; he wipes the floor with me when it comes to anything parenting/housework/LIFE related.
I used to post frequently about his sheer awesomeness but since I started writing about marriage and relationships over at Work it! Mom well over a year ago (WHAT?) I have saved most of the marriage/relationship talk for the column. Don’t judge me. You try and come up with topics on marriage/relationships twice a week. The little bit of fodder I have gets siphoned over there.
I would like to state for the record that he is the most hands-on parent I have ever seen. He would do night feedings with the kids when they were babies to give me a longer stretch of sleep. Heck, he gets up with them now because if I get up I end up being awake for hours whereas he can get right back to sleep. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does he’s the one taking care of them.
He’s a far better housekeeper than I am and hates dirty floors with a passion. I think I’ve washed the floors a grand total of five time sin our nearly ten years of marriage and I only did so in an attempt to woo him. Housework as foreplay! Who knew?
I could list a plethora of things that he does better than I do but I don’t want the guys out there to get mad at him for making them look so bad. Plus, he’d probably deny it because he’s humble on top of his many other great qualities. Never mind the fact that he’s hot.
He also treats me with such love and respect that it’s a little unbelievable. He spoils me often and encourages me to do anything that makes me happy. Heck, he bought me a ticket to Portland even though I already have trips booked to California (Next week! Woo!) and to New York in August, which leaves him at home alone with our three kids (He has snowmobiling weekends planned, so it’s not totally unbalanced). He showers me with affection, kind words and presents. I honestly don’t know how I managed to score so huge but I’m not complaining.
So, yeah. Bad stuff happens to me and my kids do not have halos and my husband’s crap does, indeed, stink. However. Exponentially more good happens to me than bad, my children blow my mind with their greatness and my husband is fifty shades of rad.
That about sums up my life.
