The funny thing is that since the diagnosis was made "official" (having a neurodevelopment pediatrician at a renowned children's hospital verbally and in writing confirming the diagnosis), I seem to have developed a radar, of sorts, of seeing autism all around me.
This is not a unique occurrence. Every time we're plunged into something new, some major life change (especially one we hadn't foreseen), we become hyper-aware of people and situations that mirror our experience. When I first became pregnant with Hannah, suddenly everyone everywhere else was pregnant and babies and baby items were completely in the forefront, and everything else receded for a while. And when Hannah died, suddenly everywhere I turned, I encountered other people who'd lost their children. I think it's a way of trying to normalize and orient yourself when everything you know has turned upside down, or at least changed course.
So although I say that I've had Max's autism on my radar since he was at least a year old (with blog posts and correspondence and paperwork to confirm it), and I tell myself I knew this all along, I'm still reeling from having it confirmed, officially. Apparently having a child with autism is an entirely real-er and bigger thing than having a child who "may be" on the spectrum but who seems to be doing relatively well otherwise. When he didn't officially have it, there was a chance that we were mistaken, or he was just immature or needed some extra help with things and would grow out of it.
Now, however, it's real. He is high-functioning in that he has done reasonably well academically and behaviorally in mainstream elementary school classes thus far; he is obviously intelligent despite some communication delays; he is consistently progressing and improving. But I feel like suddenly I'm seeing him as others do, not as his mother, and when I look through that lens I can see where the diagnosis is obvious.
Today we sat together after school and did his homework, as we always do. For some reason, I felt extraordinary clarity and as though I were seeing into how his mind works, for the very first time. I could see that when he behaved as though he were distracted, or made lots of nonsense sounds or fidgeting behaviors, it was not just stalling tactics but that he was somehow overloaded and was stimming (and sometimes tuning out) as a way to cope.
We got off topic with a sentence about snakes and he started talking about what would happen if we had a pet snake in the house, and about how some snakes are venomous and some aren't; that if there were snakes outside right now they'd probably be hibernating because it's cold. He spoke very clearly and expressed his train of thought so much more efficiently than he normally does. I noticed also that he was much more responsive and logical in terms of conversation; he would answer a question fairly normally and in a reasonable time frame. He wouldn't always make eye contact but he was a lot quieter and calmer. He'd end sentences and look away from me, but I stroked his back and shoulders and it seemed to keep him centered and focused while he talked.
We got interrupted and he went right back to all kinds of stimm-y behaviors and is currently sort of jumping around/pacing around the living room, doing a mixup of a game and story about three Angry Birds play figures and how they fly and where they live. He stops periodically to flop on the couch next to me, sometimes crawling up and having me cuddle him, then he hops back down and continues the pacing and telling the story of the Angry Birds characters.
This feels so enormous right now. Logically I know that he has pretty much every chance of success (living independently + career based on his intelligence and skills), but I don't think I really saw him as he is until today. I have no idea how this happened; it was like pulling back a veil.
Maybe one of the reasons why I baby him is because if he stays a very young child (at least in my perception), then his behaviors and quirks are part of him being a cute little man, and don't have the potential for social repercussions and awkwardness with his peers and out in the world.
I know it's going to end up all right, and I know we are in it for the long haul -- while I was sitting there and feeling the reality of the situation for the first time, I also realized that I wouldn't trade it. I may wish for him to grow out of some of this and become highly skilled at coping with and managing himself and his environment, but I wouldn't want him to be anything other than what he is right now.
I think maybe I'm beginning to accept this. It is definitely a process like grieving. Not nearly as jagged or painful, but unnerving at times.
3.04.2014
2.20.2014
Well, we called this one.
Max now has an official diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder, severity level 1. This means he is fairly high-functioning, but will still need supports/accommodations in school. In the words of the developmental pediatric specialist: "...he would require support to function in social settings without supports in place; deficits in social communication cause notable impairment. He will have difficulty initiating social interaction, and demonstrates clear examples of atypical or unsuccessful responses to social overtures of others. He also has decreased interest in social interactions. Rituals and repetitive behaviors are present and cause significant interference with functioning in at least one context. he may resist attempts by others to interrupt his restricted and repetitive behaviors or to be redirected from this fixated interest."
I remember when I was pregnant with him, and still somewhat reeling from finding out he was a boy and worried because a) I didn't know anything about boys, and because b) I had (somewhat subconsciously) hoped that if it were a girl, that might mean Hannah was back in some form.
Anyway, I was on my way somewhere and saw a bus from MCBDD (Mahoning County Board of Developmental Disabilities) and having a sudden flash of panic that since he was a boy, we were more likely to maybe have to deal with autism or something similar. I think I may have even mentioned it on here at the time.
He was beautiful and healthy when he was born, and continued to be so; we had a few issues with newborn jaundice and nursing difficulties; he turned out to have reflux which pretty much resolved itself after he started solids; and he grew and developed normally. The only thing that worried me was that he seemed to be a bit delayed speech-wise, especially compared to his sisters.
The playgroup I was in at the time had a few boys who were around the same age as Max, all of whom I'd known since birth, so it did give me a cohort to measure his growth and development against. By the time they were all getting between 1yo-18mo, I noticed some differences in how he communicated/interacted. It seemed more like a delay than an actual inability, since he progressed at the same rate the other boys did, but consistently 6 months to a year behind. As he was getting closer to age 2, I decided to have Help Me Grow (a state funded early-intervention program) come out and observe him. They did a few times, and agreed that he had a bit of a delay but that since he was progressing, and since he was obviously making attempts to communicate and seemed otherwise ok, that there wasn't major cause for concern.
The next year or so went by and he continued to develop, still behind but still progressing. As he turned 3 and preschool was on the horizon, I still had concerns and asked around and was told that I could call the county educational services department to schedule an evaluation; not just for speech but perhaps to rule out autism or Asperger's, which I was starting to suspect.
My reasons for suspecting either of those weren't based on anything very obvious or concrete; he didn't seem to show textbook behaviors like flapping his arms or being obsessive about things, but there were a few minor things with making eye contact, or responding to his name -- he did both of those things but not as much as I thought he should. He seemed to have more trouble with transitions and loud sounds than either of the girls had at that age. I wasn't so much seeking a diagnosis as looking to rule one out. We went to the evaluation and they did seem to think there were some delays/concerns, but they weren't specific. They recommended speech once a week and OT once a week; we had an option to put him in a special needs preschool (which had about half neurotypical kids in it) or just have the speech and OT people come to the mainstream preschool we were planning to enroll him in. We opted for the latter and it worked quite well; the OT especially was great. Max had two good years in preschool (with a two-week Montessori psychotic episode on my part) and was ready for kindergarten when the time came.
We had to use the elementary school's speech therapist, who wasn't quite as on the mark when it came to Max's issues, but who did work with him pretty well and he liked her. There was no OT written into the kindergarten IEP, which was a big mistake. He also had a horrible kindergarten teacher; this woman seems to hate teaching (particularly kindergarten) and although she wasn't specifically mean, she just seemed constantly stressed out and frustrated. I get that it's a challenging grade, but I have seen a few different K teachers in action with my other kids and Mrs. R's nonstop yelling and bitching wasn't necessary and was pretty counterproductive. Max mostly just ignored her after a while. I noticed, too, that some of the kids with only minor behavior problems at the beginning of the year got progressively worse towards the end of the year, which I'm quite sure wasn't a coincidence. She was a nightmare at our first IEP conference ("Oh I just don't have a CLUE what to DO with him! He can't seem to finish his WORK without HELP!"). And we got a "Well he's just quirky, he'll grow out of it" from her too. Very unhelpful.
Anyway, we got through the year and he had a pretty good summer -- went to half-day camp for a few weeks at the Y with Emily, taught himself to swim (which he LOVES) and got excited about going to first grade. There was a specific teacher I wanted him to have -- she not only has a special ed certification but she also has a daughter with autism, so she has been on both ends of this experience and she is also not a yeller; in fact she is great with her class, handles even the most difficult students with grace and patience, and obviously loves what she does and is fully committed to it. He got her and this has been the best year ever. She was happy with getting the formal diagnosis because she has so many ideas for accommodations, supports, help for him, social skills groups and so on. We couldn't be happier.
I do struggle a bit with how to present it to Max himself. I haven't actually told him he has autism, but I want him to be able to be comfortable with the idea and to advocate for himself when he needs to. I'm reading and asking questions and hoping to get some good ideas soon.
There was a part of us that grieved when we got the preliminary diagnosis. Not because we didn't already know that it was probably what we were dealing with, but because there was a part of us that felt sort of entitled to a break (for lack of a better term) -- we lost one child so we shouldn't have to deal with anything difficult or painful with any of our other children. We know all too well how unreasonable that is, but I imagine it's not uncommon for bereaved parents to experience this somehow. We worry for how Max will function as an adult, or even navigate middle-school horrors. But -- he is so funny, so smart, absolutely unique, and he wouldn't be who he was without this. We wouldn't change a thing, and I am damn glad he's here and he's exactly the way he is.
I remember when I was pregnant with him, and still somewhat reeling from finding out he was a boy and worried because a) I didn't know anything about boys, and because b) I had (somewhat subconsciously) hoped that if it were a girl, that might mean Hannah was back in some form.
Anyway, I was on my way somewhere and saw a bus from MCBDD (Mahoning County Board of Developmental Disabilities) and having a sudden flash of panic that since he was a boy, we were more likely to maybe have to deal with autism or something similar. I think I may have even mentioned it on here at the time.
He was beautiful and healthy when he was born, and continued to be so; we had a few issues with newborn jaundice and nursing difficulties; he turned out to have reflux which pretty much resolved itself after he started solids; and he grew and developed normally. The only thing that worried me was that he seemed to be a bit delayed speech-wise, especially compared to his sisters.
The playgroup I was in at the time had a few boys who were around the same age as Max, all of whom I'd known since birth, so it did give me a cohort to measure his growth and development against. By the time they were all getting between 1yo-18mo, I noticed some differences in how he communicated/interacted. It seemed more like a delay than an actual inability, since he progressed at the same rate the other boys did, but consistently 6 months to a year behind. As he was getting closer to age 2, I decided to have Help Me Grow (a state funded early-intervention program) come out and observe him. They did a few times, and agreed that he had a bit of a delay but that since he was progressing, and since he was obviously making attempts to communicate and seemed otherwise ok, that there wasn't major cause for concern.
The next year or so went by and he continued to develop, still behind but still progressing. As he turned 3 and preschool was on the horizon, I still had concerns and asked around and was told that I could call the county educational services department to schedule an evaluation; not just for speech but perhaps to rule out autism or Asperger's, which I was starting to suspect.
My reasons for suspecting either of those weren't based on anything very obvious or concrete; he didn't seem to show textbook behaviors like flapping his arms or being obsessive about things, but there were a few minor things with making eye contact, or responding to his name -- he did both of those things but not as much as I thought he should. He seemed to have more trouble with transitions and loud sounds than either of the girls had at that age. I wasn't so much seeking a diagnosis as looking to rule one out. We went to the evaluation and they did seem to think there were some delays/concerns, but they weren't specific. They recommended speech once a week and OT once a week; we had an option to put him in a special needs preschool (which had about half neurotypical kids in it) or just have the speech and OT people come to the mainstream preschool we were planning to enroll him in. We opted for the latter and it worked quite well; the OT especially was great. Max had two good years in preschool (with a two-week Montessori psychotic episode on my part) and was ready for kindergarten when the time came.
We had to use the elementary school's speech therapist, who wasn't quite as on the mark when it came to Max's issues, but who did work with him pretty well and he liked her. There was no OT written into the kindergarten IEP, which was a big mistake. He also had a horrible kindergarten teacher; this woman seems to hate teaching (particularly kindergarten) and although she wasn't specifically mean, she just seemed constantly stressed out and frustrated. I get that it's a challenging grade, but I have seen a few different K teachers in action with my other kids and Mrs. R's nonstop yelling and bitching wasn't necessary and was pretty counterproductive. Max mostly just ignored her after a while. I noticed, too, that some of the kids with only minor behavior problems at the beginning of the year got progressively worse towards the end of the year, which I'm quite sure wasn't a coincidence. She was a nightmare at our first IEP conference ("Oh I just don't have a CLUE what to DO with him! He can't seem to finish his WORK without HELP!"). And we got a "Well he's just quirky, he'll grow out of it" from her too. Very unhelpful.
Anyway, we got through the year and he had a pretty good summer -- went to half-day camp for a few weeks at the Y with Emily, taught himself to swim (which he LOVES) and got excited about going to first grade. There was a specific teacher I wanted him to have -- she not only has a special ed certification but she also has a daughter with autism, so she has been on both ends of this experience and she is also not a yeller; in fact she is great with her class, handles even the most difficult students with grace and patience, and obviously loves what she does and is fully committed to it. He got her and this has been the best year ever. She was happy with getting the formal diagnosis because she has so many ideas for accommodations, supports, help for him, social skills groups and so on. We couldn't be happier.
I do struggle a bit with how to present it to Max himself. I haven't actually told him he has autism, but I want him to be able to be comfortable with the idea and to advocate for himself when he needs to. I'm reading and asking questions and hoping to get some good ideas soon.
There was a part of us that grieved when we got the preliminary diagnosis. Not because we didn't already know that it was probably what we were dealing with, but because there was a part of us that felt sort of entitled to a break (for lack of a better term) -- we lost one child so we shouldn't have to deal with anything difficult or painful with any of our other children. We know all too well how unreasonable that is, but I imagine it's not uncommon for bereaved parents to experience this somehow. We worry for how Max will function as an adult, or even navigate middle-school horrors. But -- he is so funny, so smart, absolutely unique, and he wouldn't be who he was without this. We wouldn't change a thing, and I am damn glad he's here and he's exactly the way he is.
2.11.2014
Bizarro world
11.06.2012
Election 2012
I'm pretty sure that there is NEVER an election that isn't declared THE most divisive/bitterly contested/polarizing/etc election known to history, but I think this year definitely comes as close to that reality as I've ever seen. Then again, I'm becoming one of those people who believes in civic duty and keeping property values up and being on guilds and committees, which seemed all kinds of ludicrous to me just 15-20 years ago. In short, I'm middle-aged. Another 20 years and I'll be one of those cranky old bats working the polls.
This time around it isn't the huge historical-significance thrill that it was in 2008, but I still felt an urgency and a sense of purpose when it came to voting this year. Some of the whackadoo anti-choice and anti-gay and fear-mongering drek floating around out there reminds me of the 80's and the Reagan era. It wasn't worth keeping my kids out of school for (or waiting in the much-longer after-school/after-work lines with), but I wasn't going to miss it no matter what and I was prepared to stand in line for hours, if that's what it took.
As it turned out, it seemed like pretty much the usual turnout, which in our district isn't half-bad. I was also able to go fairly early, right after Max got on his bus at 7:40.
I voted all Democrat, obviously, except for a couple of local/county positions which had Green candidates. Also in favor of Issue 2, and in favor of all the levies (especially the Boardman schools one).
I remember the morning after the election in 2008, it was a sunny bright cold day and I was so euphoric. I was actually a bit surprised that there weren't rainbows and balloons and groups of people clad in gauzy multicolored robes dancing in circles and unicorns grazing among lush flowers, it was that amazing and wonderful to me that Obama had won.
It's been interesting to me, though, to see the election this time around. Although I was (very recently) on Facebook in late 2008, it was only a peripheral part of my social/online activity; I was mostly emailing people to keep in touch, or communicating in specific groups (Sybermoms, CC2 etc). So there were a few political memes/cartoons floating around but it wasn't as insane as it is now. I also had about 1/10 of the contacts then that I do now, so my friends list at the time was not nearly as diverse as it is now (which isn't saying much since it's still probably a good 80% left-ish.
My very first boyfriend, for instance, has turned out to be more or less a Tea Party nutbar, to my disappointment. Thinking back it's not all that surprising, based on what I knew about him and his family, but at 15 and being madly in (puppy) love, politics were just not as compelling at that point.
And another acquaintance who is almost entirely the epitome of what the Romney/right stand against, is very pro-Romney. It boggles the mind.
I'm damn glad I can share this, though, and despite my extreme leftward bias, I am glad that people I care about (even the ones I think are laughably misguided) have the freedom to share their views and vote as well. I'm not going to wail or rend my garment if one of them has, say, a flat tire at 7:29 pm on the way to the polls and doesn't get there in time, but I'm proud just the same that we can do this.
¡Orale Obama/Biden 2012!
This time around it isn't the huge historical-significance thrill that it was in 2008, but I still felt an urgency and a sense of purpose when it came to voting this year. Some of the whackadoo anti-choice and anti-gay and fear-mongering drek floating around out there reminds me of the 80's and the Reagan era. It wasn't worth keeping my kids out of school for (or waiting in the much-longer after-school/after-work lines with), but I wasn't going to miss it no matter what and I was prepared to stand in line for hours, if that's what it took.
As it turned out, it seemed like pretty much the usual turnout, which in our district isn't half-bad. I was also able to go fairly early, right after Max got on his bus at 7:40.
I voted all Democrat, obviously, except for a couple of local/county positions which had Green candidates. Also in favor of Issue 2, and in favor of all the levies (especially the Boardman schools one).
I remember the morning after the election in 2008, it was a sunny bright cold day and I was so euphoric. I was actually a bit surprised that there weren't rainbows and balloons and groups of people clad in gauzy multicolored robes dancing in circles and unicorns grazing among lush flowers, it was that amazing and wonderful to me that Obama had won.
It's been interesting to me, though, to see the election this time around. Although I was (very recently) on Facebook in late 2008, it was only a peripheral part of my social/online activity; I was mostly emailing people to keep in touch, or communicating in specific groups (Sybermoms, CC2 etc). So there were a few political memes/cartoons floating around but it wasn't as insane as it is now. I also had about 1/10 of the contacts then that I do now, so my friends list at the time was not nearly as diverse as it is now (which isn't saying much since it's still probably a good 80% left-ish.
My very first boyfriend, for instance, has turned out to be more or less a Tea Party nutbar, to my disappointment. Thinking back it's not all that surprising, based on what I knew about him and his family, but at 15 and being madly in (puppy) love, politics were just not as compelling at that point.
And another acquaintance who is almost entirely the epitome of what the Romney/right stand against, is very pro-Romney. It boggles the mind.
I'm damn glad I can share this, though, and despite my extreme leftward bias, I am glad that people I care about (even the ones I think are laughably misguided) have the freedom to share their views and vote as well. I'm not going to wail or rend my garment if one of them has, say, a flat tire at 7:29 pm on the way to the polls and doesn't get there in time, but I'm proud just the same that we can do this.
¡Orale Obama/Biden 2012!
9.11.2012
Touchstone
This particular day, although it is of national and to some extent international significance, has become a touchstone for me about Hannah's memory. It doesn't diminish what I feel for everyone who lost loved ones or friends or mentors or neighbors that day, or the terror we all experienced.
For me it was a time right before Hannah was going to start a new stage of her life -- her first day of preschool was September 13th. She was three years old. She was becoming a big kid and not just my baby any more. We were enjoying our usual morning time together, watching some children's TV and eating breakfast, and in the back of my mind, I was relishing it a little bit more knowing that we wouldn't have that as an everyday occurrence once she began her schooling. (Full disclosure: I was also looking forward to having a couple of hours a week of "me time" once preschool started, as well.)
We had one of the area PBS stations on, and I believe we were watching Sesame Street. I was sitting in the big armchair across from the TV and she was sort of flopping around, going from my lap to the couch to playing on the floor and back as she was watching. I probably had a book or magazine handy and was glancing into it in between viewing and commenting with Hannah.
All of a sudden, Elmo disappeared from the TV screen and what looked like a burning skyscraper took his place. It didn't register immediately which particular building it was, and there was no commentary. I thought at first that either one of us had sat on the remote and accidentally switched channels (to some Schwarzenegger action film?) or that the cable was glitching. I found the remote and started switching and noticed more channels were showing this. By then the news feeds had started to get coordinated and the commentary was being played, and it started to register that (what was thought to be) a small plane had hit one of the WTC towers.
All of this probably occurred in less time than it's taken me to type this out just now, so Hannah, being sort of active, didn't even appear to notice that something was off, apart from asking me to change the channel and then wandering into the next room to find a toy she was looking for.
I sat there and was just starting to grasp that a bad accident had happened, and listening to the Today show folks discussing it, when the second plane zoomed into the frame and hit the second tower. After being paralyzed for a few minutes, I began scrolling through channels again and realized, along with everybody else watching, that this was a deliberate attack of some kind. Hannah was coming back into the room, so I kept scrolling until I came to the Canadian public TV station which was the only thing still airing kids' shows, and turned that on for her. I went into the kitchen after that and turned on NPR, so I could listen to what was going on without her seeing anything frightening.
At that time Jon worked for Pall in Ann Arbor, and they were having their annual meeting/sales conference. Normally this meeting would have taken place at a resort or other offsite location, but due to budgetary constraints, they were actually having it at the Marriott down the road a ways from where we lived, so instead of being several states away for this meeting he was literally in the neighborhood.
Another division of the company was located in the greater NYC area on Long Island somewhere, so a fair number of the attendees at this meeting were, in fact, from NYC itself.
At any rate, while Hannah played and watched TV and I lurked by the radio, I called and checked in with my dad (in TX), my mom (over in East Lansing), and Jon's sister, who with her husband lived in Brooklyn. I knew that her husband daily took the train into Manhattan which was routed directly under the WTC and I was afraid he might have been in danger. As it turned out, he had left considerably earlier and was comparatively safe at his office near Greenwich Village, though he did end up having to walk most of the way home to Brooklyn later that afternoon.
Jon came home at noon. He said they had cancelled the days meetings and were mostly providing space and time for the out-of-state employees to contact their families and figure out travel arrangements, and there wasn't anything for him to do. One of the women who was at the meeting had a terrible scare; her husband worked in one of the towers and she had seen the planes hit. It turned out, fortunately, that he had stayed home from work that day to deal with someone doing maintenance in their apartment, so he was spared.
It was a beatiful clear, sunny, faintly cool day just like this one (and like every September 11th since then). We spent the rest of the afternoon hanging around at home, playing with Hannah, spending time outside and talking to neighbors. I made a big pot of spaghetti sauce. We kept the TV mostly off and just sort of tag-teamed listening to the NPR coverage, or occasionally sneaking a glance at CNN if the other of us had Hannah far enough away so she wouldn't see anything. That night, after she went to bed, we were glued to the television for quite a while.
At the time we lived under the glide paths for both Detroit Metro airport and Willow Run, and although we had become so used to the planes we didn't even notice them, the silence was jarring for that week or so afterwards.
Jon's father had been traveling to some conference or other, and was delayed returning home. He finally got on a circuitous route home, one leg of which brought him into Detroit Metro for a few hours on the following Sunday, so we met up with him for dinner near the airport.
Emily was conceived the Saturday following 9/11. Not intentionally, although we had been discussing whether/when to have a second child; though now it seems almost fated.
I'm always struck by the fact that 9/11 turned into a day of closeness for our family, and that it was the last time that it was just the three of us. Most of that week was taken up by spending time together, watching as much news as we could get away with (without exposing Hannah) and trying to resume some normalcy -- marking the start of her preschool days, focusing on keeping everything around her upbeat and safe.
It seemed so strange today to send my kids off to school -- and it's another time of firsts for us, as Max is starting kindergarten and marking the end of being "the baby". It feels weird to have today be in some ways very much business as usual, and yet so infused with memories and emotions of a time when he and Emily weren't even a thought.
For me it was a time right before Hannah was going to start a new stage of her life -- her first day of preschool was September 13th. She was three years old. She was becoming a big kid and not just my baby any more. We were enjoying our usual morning time together, watching some children's TV and eating breakfast, and in the back of my mind, I was relishing it a little bit more knowing that we wouldn't have that as an everyday occurrence once she began her schooling. (Full disclosure: I was also looking forward to having a couple of hours a week of "me time" once preschool started, as well.)
We had one of the area PBS stations on, and I believe we were watching Sesame Street. I was sitting in the big armchair across from the TV and she was sort of flopping around, going from my lap to the couch to playing on the floor and back as she was watching. I probably had a book or magazine handy and was glancing into it in between viewing and commenting with Hannah.
All of a sudden, Elmo disappeared from the TV screen and what looked like a burning skyscraper took his place. It didn't register immediately which particular building it was, and there was no commentary. I thought at first that either one of us had sat on the remote and accidentally switched channels (to some Schwarzenegger action film?) or that the cable was glitching. I found the remote and started switching and noticed more channels were showing this. By then the news feeds had started to get coordinated and the commentary was being played, and it started to register that (what was thought to be) a small plane had hit one of the WTC towers.
All of this probably occurred in less time than it's taken me to type this out just now, so Hannah, being sort of active, didn't even appear to notice that something was off, apart from asking me to change the channel and then wandering into the next room to find a toy she was looking for.
I sat there and was just starting to grasp that a bad accident had happened, and listening to the Today show folks discussing it, when the second plane zoomed into the frame and hit the second tower. After being paralyzed for a few minutes, I began scrolling through channels again and realized, along with everybody else watching, that this was a deliberate attack of some kind. Hannah was coming back into the room, so I kept scrolling until I came to the Canadian public TV station which was the only thing still airing kids' shows, and turned that on for her. I went into the kitchen after that and turned on NPR, so I could listen to what was going on without her seeing anything frightening.
At that time Jon worked for Pall in Ann Arbor, and they were having their annual meeting/sales conference. Normally this meeting would have taken place at a resort or other offsite location, but due to budgetary constraints, they were actually having it at the Marriott down the road a ways from where we lived, so instead of being several states away for this meeting he was literally in the neighborhood.
Another division of the company was located in the greater NYC area on Long Island somewhere, so a fair number of the attendees at this meeting were, in fact, from NYC itself.
At any rate, while Hannah played and watched TV and I lurked by the radio, I called and checked in with my dad (in TX), my mom (over in East Lansing), and Jon's sister, who with her husband lived in Brooklyn. I knew that her husband daily took the train into Manhattan which was routed directly under the WTC and I was afraid he might have been in danger. As it turned out, he had left considerably earlier and was comparatively safe at his office near Greenwich Village, though he did end up having to walk most of the way home to Brooklyn later that afternoon.
Jon came home at noon. He said they had cancelled the days meetings and were mostly providing space and time for the out-of-state employees to contact their families and figure out travel arrangements, and there wasn't anything for him to do. One of the women who was at the meeting had a terrible scare; her husband worked in one of the towers and she had seen the planes hit. It turned out, fortunately, that he had stayed home from work that day to deal with someone doing maintenance in their apartment, so he was spared.
It was a beatiful clear, sunny, faintly cool day just like this one (and like every September 11th since then). We spent the rest of the afternoon hanging around at home, playing with Hannah, spending time outside and talking to neighbors. I made a big pot of spaghetti sauce. We kept the TV mostly off and just sort of tag-teamed listening to the NPR coverage, or occasionally sneaking a glance at CNN if the other of us had Hannah far enough away so she wouldn't see anything. That night, after she went to bed, we were glued to the television for quite a while.
At the time we lived under the glide paths for both Detroit Metro airport and Willow Run, and although we had become so used to the planes we didn't even notice them, the silence was jarring for that week or so afterwards.
Jon's father had been traveling to some conference or other, and was delayed returning home. He finally got on a circuitous route home, one leg of which brought him into Detroit Metro for a few hours on the following Sunday, so we met up with him for dinner near the airport.
Emily was conceived the Saturday following 9/11. Not intentionally, although we had been discussing whether/when to have a second child; though now it seems almost fated.
I'm always struck by the fact that 9/11 turned into a day of closeness for our family, and that it was the last time that it was just the three of us. Most of that week was taken up by spending time together, watching as much news as we could get away with (without exposing Hannah) and trying to resume some normalcy -- marking the start of her preschool days, focusing on keeping everything around her upbeat and safe.
It seemed so strange today to send my kids off to school -- and it's another time of firsts for us, as Max is starting kindergarten and marking the end of being "the baby". It feels weird to have today be in some ways very much business as usual, and yet so infused with memories and emotions of a time when he and Emily weren't even a thought.
6.05.2012
Decade
So 10 years ago at just about this time, more or less, my friend Pam came to pick Hannah up to take her to their house so I could get some downtime and H. could play with her preschool buddy Laura.
I was 2 days away from Emily's due date, which was June 7, and the midwives and I had been trying some things to see if we could get labor going on its own, because they were going to have to induce labor on the due date if I didn't go on my own before that (thanks to gestational diabetes). I had been induced with Hannah and it was a terrible experience, so we were trying to avoid that if at all possible. Over the prior couple of weeks they had started me on some blue and black cohosh tinctures, and then one time applied some Cervadil (which didn't start labor but gave me very painful contractions/cramps). Jon and I had tried the usual "home remedies" too; sex, spicy food, lots of walking, and so on.
Anyway, 10 years ago this morning, I woke up and didn't feel completely normal. Shortly after getting out of bed, I felt crampy and restless. By the time Pam came over, it was starting to feel pretty regular and more like contractions, but since I hadn't had a "normal" labor before, I wasn't entirely sure. When Pam pulled in, I stepped outside with Hannah and the first thing Pam said was, "Wow, that baby has DROPPED!"
I carried the girls pretty low, but apparently that morning it really looked like something was about to happen. So she drove off with the girls back to her house, and I tried to settle down, read or watch TV or something, but the contractions were just enough to keep me from being able to relax. They weren't super painful -- more like very bad cramps -- but they were about every 10 minutes and I felt like I had to walk them off. I ended up pacing in circles around the house; they remained steady and finally around 11 or so I called Jon and told him he might want to come home. I also called the midwives and they said to give it another hour or so and if it continued, to head over to the hospital to see if things were progressing. I also called my mom and sister (both were living in Lansing at the time) and let them know that we might be getting ready for this to happen.
J came home and nothing changed, so I called Pam and told her we were heading over to the hospital, and arranged logistical things (having my mom pick her up, etc.) in case this was really it. Pam did something I will never forget -- she pulled out her video camera and turned it on, and then told Hannah we were going to the hospital to have the baby. So I got to see Hannah's reaction on video -- she was jumping up and down and so excited and saying, "My baby sister is coming! I can't wait!" I need to find a way to get that into a digital format -- I have wanted to show it to Emily ever since then.
We got to the hospital about 1 or so, and they checked me and I was only about 2cm dilated, so they hooked me up to a monitor for a bit to see how the contractions were going, then had us walk the halls for a while to see if that helped things progress. We did this until around 3 or so and clearly nothing was imminent, so they sent us home. By then my mom and sister had arrived and brought Hannah home. Hannah was VERY disappointed to see us arrive home with no baby, but she got over it.
I was still having the regular, crampy contractions about every 10 minutes or so, but I was fine in between and so we hung out at home; I made potato soup and some biscuits for dinner, we played outside, had some time together, and then Jon put Hannah to bed and Zoe and I sat and watched TV. The movie Airplane was on, and in between contractions we were laughing and enjoying the movie. As it progressed, I got to the point where during contractions I didn't want anyone talking or laughing and I'd kind of put my head down and go quiet.
Finally, around the scene where the controller says "Bad news; the fog's getting thicker" and then a guy jumps in and says "And Leon's getting LARGER!!!" I started getting kind of quiet and not into the movie any more. I got up and started pacing again but the contractions seemed to be coming a bit faster, every 5 minutes or so, and I stopped talking to anyone or laughing at the movie at all. This was about 10 pm. I don't remember a whole lot of what was going on around me by this time, but Jon said my mother finally spoke up and said "Well, I don't know how to deliver a baby so maybe we need to get her to the hospital."
At this point I suppose Jon called the midwives and let them know we were heading in. I don't remember much about the drive, except that I was incredibly uncomfortable and was getting upset whenever we had to brake or shift gears (we had a stick-shift car at the time). Apparently Zoe followed us in her car and brought a couple of things. We got to the hospital and they put me in a wheelchair and that's about all I recall until getting up into the triage part of L&D. Zoe says there was a guy who looked like Jon's identical twin that helped us with the wheelchair, but I was pretty oblivious by then. The contractions were coming hard and fast and I was just hunkered down and ignoring everything else.
So in triage, they checked me and I was close to 7 cm, so they took us up to the L&D room. Jennifer was the midwife on call (I liked Cheryl better) and she got us situated quickly. We kept the room pretty dim. By this time I had my eyes mostly shut, just to keep calm and ignore everything else around me, so I have very little recollection. This would have been around 11:30 pm or so. Jennifer was great -- she set up a bar for me to hold onto and pull during the contractions, and she helped me to groan/breathe very low from deep down, which helped the pain. I hadn't had any expectations about what I would do pain-wise; I wasn't hard-core anti-meds any more but I was hoping to avoid an epidural. The regularity of the contractions, plus Jennifer's coaching and Jon's support, got me through pretty well. Finally around 2 I was fully dilated and ready to push, but exhausted. They gave me a very small hit of Stadol through the IV, which gave me a 5-minute total pain-free break, and that helped give me enough energy to start pushing.
So I pushed for about an hour, but was getting kind of wimpy and giving up easily (I had been up since around 7 a.m. and it was getting towards 3 a.m. the next day, so on top of everything else I was really tired anyway). Jennifer very nicely but very firmly sort of verbally kicked my butt and encouraged me, and I redoubled my efforts. As it turned out, there was a bubble of amniotic fluid in the sac right in front of Emily's head, so once they popped that it was much easier and she came right out, at 3:20 a.m.
She was really gorgeous. Her head hadn't gotten stuck much thanks to the fluid, so her head was nice and round. She weighed 8 lb 9 oz and I think was 20 1/2 inches. She had dark hair and brown eyes. They put her in my arms and she had her eyes closed; then she stuck out her lower lip and began bawling -- she looked really mad! I got her to latch on and start nursing and she took to it like a champ, and stayed on for a while, as they were getting the placenta out and cutting her cord. After that they took her over to the warmer and wiped her off, weighed her, etc. She threw an absolute tantrum at that -- I could hear her banging her heels on the warmer! Meanwhile, I had to go to the bathroom and was DYING of thirst, so I made my way over to the bathroom (with some help) and when I got back they gave me what I think was the single most delicious red popsicle in the world. I was so incredibly tired and thirsty and that was the best thing I had ever tasted in my life!!!
I realized that I had had my eyes closed almost the entire time I was pushing, because I didn't even recognize the nurse who had helped hold my legs. They kept the lights reasonably dim, which was nice. I looked over at one point and saw the midwife examining what I thought was a big round pizza and remember thinking, WTF, who ordered pizza and why didn't I get any? Turns out it was the placenta. What can I say -- I was exhausted.
Anyway, as was standard procedure for gestational diabetes cases at that time, they let us hold Emily for a short bit longer and then took her off to the NICU (to check her sugars, etc). I was a bit upset because I was worried that it would get nursing off to a bad start; I insisted they wheel us down there and let me have some time to try nursing again. They did, but I was so exhausted and E was too, so finally we went back up to my room and got a couple of hours' sleep. Later in the morning they brought her to my room; and in the afternoon my mom came and brought Hannah, who instantly fell in love with her baby sister.
We spent the next couple of days hanging out and working on getting nursing started -- she really did have the knack so it wasn't too bad.
I can't believe it's been 10 years!
I was 2 days away from Emily's due date, which was June 7, and the midwives and I had been trying some things to see if we could get labor going on its own, because they were going to have to induce labor on the due date if I didn't go on my own before that (thanks to gestational diabetes). I had been induced with Hannah and it was a terrible experience, so we were trying to avoid that if at all possible. Over the prior couple of weeks they had started me on some blue and black cohosh tinctures, and then one time applied some Cervadil (which didn't start labor but gave me very painful contractions/cramps). Jon and I had tried the usual "home remedies" too; sex, spicy food, lots of walking, and so on.
Anyway, 10 years ago this morning, I woke up and didn't feel completely normal. Shortly after getting out of bed, I felt crampy and restless. By the time Pam came over, it was starting to feel pretty regular and more like contractions, but since I hadn't had a "normal" labor before, I wasn't entirely sure. When Pam pulled in, I stepped outside with Hannah and the first thing Pam said was, "Wow, that baby has DROPPED!"
I carried the girls pretty low, but apparently that morning it really looked like something was about to happen. So she drove off with the girls back to her house, and I tried to settle down, read or watch TV or something, but the contractions were just enough to keep me from being able to relax. They weren't super painful -- more like very bad cramps -- but they were about every 10 minutes and I felt like I had to walk them off. I ended up pacing in circles around the house; they remained steady and finally around 11 or so I called Jon and told him he might want to come home. I also called the midwives and they said to give it another hour or so and if it continued, to head over to the hospital to see if things were progressing. I also called my mom and sister (both were living in Lansing at the time) and let them know that we might be getting ready for this to happen.
J came home and nothing changed, so I called Pam and told her we were heading over to the hospital, and arranged logistical things (having my mom pick her up, etc.) in case this was really it. Pam did something I will never forget -- she pulled out her video camera and turned it on, and then told Hannah we were going to the hospital to have the baby. So I got to see Hannah's reaction on video -- she was jumping up and down and so excited and saying, "My baby sister is coming! I can't wait!" I need to find a way to get that into a digital format -- I have wanted to show it to Emily ever since then.
We got to the hospital about 1 or so, and they checked me and I was only about 2cm dilated, so they hooked me up to a monitor for a bit to see how the contractions were going, then had us walk the halls for a while to see if that helped things progress. We did this until around 3 or so and clearly nothing was imminent, so they sent us home. By then my mom and sister had arrived and brought Hannah home. Hannah was VERY disappointed to see us arrive home with no baby, but she got over it.
I was still having the regular, crampy contractions about every 10 minutes or so, but I was fine in between and so we hung out at home; I made potato soup and some biscuits for dinner, we played outside, had some time together, and then Jon put Hannah to bed and Zoe and I sat and watched TV. The movie Airplane was on, and in between contractions we were laughing and enjoying the movie. As it progressed, I got to the point where during contractions I didn't want anyone talking or laughing and I'd kind of put my head down and go quiet.
Finally, around the scene where the controller says "Bad news; the fog's getting thicker" and then a guy jumps in and says "And Leon's getting LARGER!!!" I started getting kind of quiet and not into the movie any more. I got up and started pacing again but the contractions seemed to be coming a bit faster, every 5 minutes or so, and I stopped talking to anyone or laughing at the movie at all. This was about 10 pm. I don't remember a whole lot of what was going on around me by this time, but Jon said my mother finally spoke up and said "Well, I don't know how to deliver a baby so maybe we need to get her to the hospital."
At this point I suppose Jon called the midwives and let them know we were heading in. I don't remember much about the drive, except that I was incredibly uncomfortable and was getting upset whenever we had to brake or shift gears (we had a stick-shift car at the time). Apparently Zoe followed us in her car and brought a couple of things. We got to the hospital and they put me in a wheelchair and that's about all I recall until getting up into the triage part of L&D. Zoe says there was a guy who looked like Jon's identical twin that helped us with the wheelchair, but I was pretty oblivious by then. The contractions were coming hard and fast and I was just hunkered down and ignoring everything else.
So in triage, they checked me and I was close to 7 cm, so they took us up to the L&D room. Jennifer was the midwife on call (I liked Cheryl better) and she got us situated quickly. We kept the room pretty dim. By this time I had my eyes mostly shut, just to keep calm and ignore everything else around me, so I have very little recollection. This would have been around 11:30 pm or so. Jennifer was great -- she set up a bar for me to hold onto and pull during the contractions, and she helped me to groan/breathe very low from deep down, which helped the pain. I hadn't had any expectations about what I would do pain-wise; I wasn't hard-core anti-meds any more but I was hoping to avoid an epidural. The regularity of the contractions, plus Jennifer's coaching and Jon's support, got me through pretty well. Finally around 2 I was fully dilated and ready to push, but exhausted. They gave me a very small hit of Stadol through the IV, which gave me a 5-minute total pain-free break, and that helped give me enough energy to start pushing.
So I pushed for about an hour, but was getting kind of wimpy and giving up easily (I had been up since around 7 a.m. and it was getting towards 3 a.m. the next day, so on top of everything else I was really tired anyway). Jennifer very nicely but very firmly sort of verbally kicked my butt and encouraged me, and I redoubled my efforts. As it turned out, there was a bubble of amniotic fluid in the sac right in front of Emily's head, so once they popped that it was much easier and she came right out, at 3:20 a.m.
She was really gorgeous. Her head hadn't gotten stuck much thanks to the fluid, so her head was nice and round. She weighed 8 lb 9 oz and I think was 20 1/2 inches. She had dark hair and brown eyes. They put her in my arms and she had her eyes closed; then she stuck out her lower lip and began bawling -- she looked really mad! I got her to latch on and start nursing and she took to it like a champ, and stayed on for a while, as they were getting the placenta out and cutting her cord. After that they took her over to the warmer and wiped her off, weighed her, etc. She threw an absolute tantrum at that -- I could hear her banging her heels on the warmer! Meanwhile, I had to go to the bathroom and was DYING of thirst, so I made my way over to the bathroom (with some help) and when I got back they gave me what I think was the single most delicious red popsicle in the world. I was so incredibly tired and thirsty and that was the best thing I had ever tasted in my life!!!
I realized that I had had my eyes closed almost the entire time I was pushing, because I didn't even recognize the nurse who had helped hold my legs. They kept the lights reasonably dim, which was nice. I looked over at one point and saw the midwife examining what I thought was a big round pizza and remember thinking, WTF, who ordered pizza and why didn't I get any? Turns out it was the placenta. What can I say -- I was exhausted.
Anyway, as was standard procedure for gestational diabetes cases at that time, they let us hold Emily for a short bit longer and then took her off to the NICU (to check her sugars, etc). I was a bit upset because I was worried that it would get nursing off to a bad start; I insisted they wheel us down there and let me have some time to try nursing again. They did, but I was so exhausted and E was too, so finally we went back up to my room and got a couple of hours' sleep. Later in the morning they brought her to my room; and in the afternoon my mom came and brought Hannah, who instantly fell in love with her baby sister.
We spent the next couple of days hanging out and working on getting nursing started -- she really did have the knack so it wasn't too bad.
6.01.2012
Endings
Kind of more in the same vein, but... today is the last Shabbat Friday for Emily (next Friday is field day). So weird to think that won't be a part of our lives any more. I was excited about sending Emily to Akiva at first largely because I thought the small class and the greater academic challenges would be the best fit for her. I was pleased about it being a Jewish school and about the prospect of learning more about that part of my own heritage, as well as exposing Emily to it, but I didn't count on how much it would come to mean to me personally. I am really, really going to miss observing the holidays with her school -- not that we can't do it on our own, but it was being part of that community in our own way that made the difference.
We will still be in touch with friends from there, and I have fingers crossed that we'll be attending some bar and bat mitzvahs in the years to come, and we have the synagogue around the corner with the rabbis up the street from us so we can still have some involvement, but losing the day-to-day aspect of Emily's life at Akiva is going to leave a big hole.
We will still be in touch with friends from there, and I have fingers crossed that we'll be attending some bar and bat mitzvahs in the years to come, and we have the synagogue around the corner with the rabbis up the street from us so we can still have some involvement, but losing the day-to-day aspect of Emily's life at Akiva is going to leave a big hole.
5.25.2012
Milestones
I have been seeing hundreds of Facebook and Sybermoms posts about everybody's 8th-graders graduating and getting ready for high school. I am sincerely happy for all of them, especially my CC2 friends' kids (all of us who had babies in 1998 and have been posting/meeting up ever since) but it really hit me today, for some reason. How has so much time gone by? I wish Hannah were still here and getting all excited about starting this new phase. It blows my mind that all those babies/toddlers she came into the world with are becoming young women and men; there have been bar- and bat-mitzvahs, half of them are on Facebook, there are boyfriends and girlfriends in the picture; they are looking like teenagers/young adults instead of little kids. I hate that Hannah got left behind. She will always be 5 years old, but I wish I could see what she would be like now.
I am enjoying the other transitions and milestones, like Max finishing preschool and officially taking us out of that stage, and Emily about to turn 10 (she talks about starting her "double-digit life") and becoming more tween- and pre-teen-ish, but I wish we didn't have to miss out on Hannah's life.
2016 is going to be so hard, when all her former classmates/friends/peers graduate from high school.
I am enjoying the other transitions and milestones, like Max finishing preschool and officially taking us out of that stage, and Emily about to turn 10 (she talks about starting her "double-digit life") and becoming more tween- and pre-teen-ish, but I wish we didn't have to miss out on Hannah's life.
2016 is going to be so hard, when all her former classmates/friends/peers graduate from high school.
4.19.2012
Just stuff
Still a bit in shock about my cousin's death.
I should explain that this isn't like a first cousin -- he's the son of a second cousin, from my big Texas Mexican-American clan -- his grandmother was my dad's first cousin. But they are all very close and all clustered in one area of south Texas, so despite the differing "degrees" of kinship I know them all well and they mean a lot to me. I spent time there every year when I was a child; despite drifting a bit from it somewhat as an adult, it's still a big part of my heart; of who I am.
I remember Omar as a young boy and then a teenager; he was very handsome and outgoing. Dad was very fond of him. All the kids in that family are gorgeous, really. My heart is breaking for my cousin Lavinia, his mother. She's had a rough go of it (partly through her own fault) but nobody, ever, should have to lose a child. I hope she gets the support she needs down there.
I'm feeling a bit sluggish and unmotivated. Some of it is recovering from the vacation; getting back to the school grind and such. We're coming close enough to the end of the year that it's more difficult to get back into the whole thing when it'll all be done in about six weeks anyway.
I'm looking forward to summer a bit; it'll be nice not to have the whole homework/lunch-packing grind going on, and Max is old enough that we can do a lot more fun things. Meghan will have the baby so Kendell and Lilly will probably want to have a lot of playtime over here, which will keep the kids busy. I am pondering getting Max started with tumbling and/or karate; he needs something like that to burn off energy and maybe help him focus a bit too.
I am nervous about kindergarten, though. It is going to be so vastly different from preschool; I know he'll continue to have the IEP and other supports he needs, but the classes are so big (mid-20's) and there's so much more structure. I need to set up a meeting with the principal and also see if I can sit in/observe some of the K classrooms so I have an idea of what we're getting into and can look ahead to see what might be tricky for Max and how to facilitate things for him.
I remember once while I was pregnant with him, seeing an MRDD bus and thinking that if he turned out to have autism or other issues, I couldn't deal with it. I just wanted an easy, low-maintenance kid. Well, it's like I had a premonition or something, because I'm pretty sure he is somewhere on the Asperger's spectrum, along with other issues he has, and yet -- it's just who he is and it really isn't the big tragic nightmare that I thought it could be.
Also, I find I'm beginning to let go of the notion that just because we went through Hannah's death and all, that we are somehow entitled to a cosmic "pass" or "break" where we never have to deal with major problems again. Maybe that means in a way that we are healing somewhat. And maybe, also, I'm learning that I'm not in charge, never have been, never will be, and I just need to let life happen instead of controlling it or wishing it into this or that configuration.
Of course, some of the things that have happened recently are unsettling. Some in a very good way, some not so much. It'll all work itself out, I know, but it's definitely shaken me up.
I should explain that this isn't like a first cousin -- he's the son of a second cousin, from my big Texas Mexican-American clan -- his grandmother was my dad's first cousin. But they are all very close and all clustered in one area of south Texas, so despite the differing "degrees" of kinship I know them all well and they mean a lot to me. I spent time there every year when I was a child; despite drifting a bit from it somewhat as an adult, it's still a big part of my heart; of who I am.
I remember Omar as a young boy and then a teenager; he was very handsome and outgoing. Dad was very fond of him. All the kids in that family are gorgeous, really. My heart is breaking for my cousin Lavinia, his mother. She's had a rough go of it (partly through her own fault) but nobody, ever, should have to lose a child. I hope she gets the support she needs down there.
I'm feeling a bit sluggish and unmotivated. Some of it is recovering from the vacation; getting back to the school grind and such. We're coming close enough to the end of the year that it's more difficult to get back into the whole thing when it'll all be done in about six weeks anyway.
I'm looking forward to summer a bit; it'll be nice not to have the whole homework/lunch-packing grind going on, and Max is old enough that we can do a lot more fun things. Meghan will have the baby so Kendell and Lilly will probably want to have a lot of playtime over here, which will keep the kids busy. I am pondering getting Max started with tumbling and/or karate; he needs something like that to burn off energy and maybe help him focus a bit too.
I am nervous about kindergarten, though. It is going to be so vastly different from preschool; I know he'll continue to have the IEP and other supports he needs, but the classes are so big (mid-20's) and there's so much more structure. I need to set up a meeting with the principal and also see if I can sit in/observe some of the K classrooms so I have an idea of what we're getting into and can look ahead to see what might be tricky for Max and how to facilitate things for him.
I remember once while I was pregnant with him, seeing an MRDD bus and thinking that if he turned out to have autism or other issues, I couldn't deal with it. I just wanted an easy, low-maintenance kid. Well, it's like I had a premonition or something, because I'm pretty sure he is somewhere on the Asperger's spectrum, along with other issues he has, and yet -- it's just who he is and it really isn't the big tragic nightmare that I thought it could be.
Also, I find I'm beginning to let go of the notion that just because we went through Hannah's death and all, that we are somehow entitled to a cosmic "pass" or "break" where we never have to deal with major problems again. Maybe that means in a way that we are healing somewhat. And maybe, also, I'm learning that I'm not in charge, never have been, never will be, and I just need to let life happen instead of controlling it or wishing it into this or that configuration.
Of course, some of the things that have happened recently are unsettling. Some in a very good way, some not so much. It'll all work itself out, I know, but it's definitely shaken me up.
4.18.2012
So fucking unfair
I just found out that my cousin Lavinia's son, Omar, died of a drug overdose on the 16th. He was such a handsome boy, very charming and full of life when I met him... he would have been about 10 then. I wish I could go down there to be with them. They're having a rosary tonight, but even if I could hop on a flight in the next hour I wouldn't get there until afterwards -- they live in a godforsaken corner of south TX so there aren't any direct flights. The funeral mass is tomorrow. I'm mulling over at least trying to get there for that if nothing else.
It's funny because I kept feeling like I wanted to go back down to the valley and see the family there; I was missing Dad and thought it would be nice to go visit the place again. I wish it had just been a coincidence. I like to think that Hannah is meeting her cousin for the first time now...
Why in the hell does this have to happen?
It's funny because I kept feeling like I wanted to go back down to the valley and see the family there; I was missing Dad and thought it would be nice to go visit the place again. I wish it had just been a coincidence. I like to think that Hannah is meeting her cousin for the first time now...
Why in the hell does this have to happen?
4.16.2012
Pitocin flashbacks
Tomorrow is going to be Hannah's 14th birthday. That just blows me away. It was about 14 years ago at this exact time (4:30ish) that they decided to go ahead and start the Pitocin, after breaking my water and a few other things didn't get labor going properly. I had developed preeclampsia and they wanted to go ahead and get her out, but I was trying everything to avoid a Csection and they went along with our wishes. I felt nothing for about a half-hour, then the contractions went from 0 to 60 in about 5 minutes. I remember we were in the labor room watching Seinfeld, and one minute we were chuckling at it and the next minute WHAM, and it was full-on hard labor until 2:30 the next afternoon, April 17, a beautiful sunny day, when she was born. There had been severe storms and I think a tornado warning or 2 during that night, but I don't remember much at all -- it was grueling.
I posted this on her 10th birthday, but I'm thinking of it again... "It was an incredibly difficult labor -- we were trying to do a completely "natural" Bradley birth, despite being induced, so there I was with no epidural or pain meds, Pitocin contractions that felt like I was being ground up inside, and total fear and panic -- I think it took a long time to dilate because I was so freaked out I was subconsciously trying to shut down the whole process. I had nightmares about it for a little while afterwards.
I'd willingly go through every second of it again and again, if we could have Hannah back. Even if we couldn't, I wouldn't change it -- it was worth everything ten times over just to have had her in our lives."
I can't even imagine what that would be like, to have a kid going into high school. I know she would be a beautiful girl like Emily. I suspect she would be fairly petite -- it looks to me like Emily is slated to be on the tall side -- but they would look similar, I think; slender, dark hair and eyes, delicate face, beautiful smile. She would be completely absorbed in art and creative endeavors, because that was her passion even back then. She would be a social butterfly but probably not a "queen bee". I don't know how she'd be on the boy/dating front (or girl/dating, I guess you never know) but I suspect she would probably have a lot of people who cared for her.
She would be a fabulous big sister. She loved Emily so much, even when Emily drove her crazy. She was patient with her and loved trying to play "school" and teach her things, and one of her favorite games was to pretend that I was the baby, Emily was the big sister and she was the mom. It got pretty hilarious at times.
If we hadn't lost her, we wouldn't have ended up having Max, so that makes this a lot more complicated in many ways. But I know she would adore him too. I just wish there had been a way to have all 3 of them with us forever. I hate that he never knew her. He is starting to ask questions about her, mainly about the car crash; I'm not sure how much he understands of the idea that she was a big sister in the same way that Emily is. I know he will, in time. I know it will be different for him than Emily; he won't experience it as a direct loss in the way she does, but I imagine in some way he will mourn her.
I desperately wish I could go to Ypsilanti tomorrow and visit the rock, leave flowers, spend some quiet time and also visit our old house, her school, and just find a way to "be with" her again. It just isn't possible, though. I'd have to at least take Max with me, and Emily can't miss school right now (they're getting ready for stupid Ohio state tests and there's a shit-ton of homework). I hate so much that I can't be there. I'll ask Sandy to go by the rock and leave some flowers. I know she won't mind; she loved Hannah too and so did her son Dan.
It would be so much worse if we didn't have so many amazing friends who loved her and love us and who have never stopped giving us their support all these years. I think that speaks volumes about the kind of person Hannah was, more than anything. Her favorite song was one by Tom. T. Hall -- "I Wish I Had A Million Friends". I suspect if she had been able to live out her life, she may well have reached that goal and then some.
4.11.2012
Spring Break
So this week the kids and I are spending their spring break visiting my mom in Orlando. Jon's spring break was at the begininng of March or something insane like that -- the university is on a totally different schedule from the public school districts -- so it's just the two kids and me traveling. The flight down was pretty smooth, which was nice. The last time I flew Southwest with the kids, in June of 2010, we had the Epic Projectile Diarrhea Cross-Country Flight Saga, which I don't have the strength to tell about now. I was a bit concerned Max would have ended up on their "no-fly" list after that but we got on the plane without incident and all was well for the duration of the flight. In-flight wifi was a plus too.
The visit so far hasn't been bad; some things I expected but can deal with (the constant micromanaging of how I manage my kids). We're right now on a sort of vacation-within-a-vacation; my sister joined us and we're at a smallish resort on the Gulf coast in Treasure Island, which is right outside of St. Petersburg. It's a nice place -- you can tell it's about 50 years old, and it is kind of retro, but it's been beautifully kept up. It's definitely not an "upscale" place with tons of amenities, but I like it a lot.
To my surprise Max really did great with ocean swimming; I thought the waves would freak him out but he loved it. He had on his life vest and hung onto one of those "noodle" floatie things, and bobbed around in the waves and had the time of his life. He didn't even get fazed when a wave or two would slap him in the face, which totally surprised me. Emily had a ball too. Max and I headed into the pool for a while -- I think he'd had about enough waves and sand -- but that was nice too. Now they're both completely crashed out.
I do still get a little twitchy when both my mom and sister are around, because you can tell they totally don't get me or my parenting methods, and are quite sure they know more than me about everything. They've toned down expressing it considerably, but it still leaks out here and there. It makes me absolutely batshit crazy but I'm ignoring it as best I can. Other than snapping back at them or getting shit-faced drunk, there really isn't much else I can do to cope, and neither of the aforementioned options are viable right now, though I'm awfully tempted to sneak downstairs to the bar or maybe take a long walk on the beach in the dark...
Florida, though, as nice as it is to vacation here -- I definitely would not want to live down here. It just seems too "vacation-y" and weird; not only the tourist parts but all of it.
I think tomorrow we may go to Legoland on the way back to Orlando, and then after that I'm not sure what's on the agenda. Lots of swimming, maybe Sea World and/or Gatorland. Definitely not doing Disney. We went to the Magic Kingdom last year and it kind of sucked -- it was blistering hot, Max really wasn't into it at all, and honestly, I don't get the hype -- it is so insanely overpriced and it's just an amusement park full of Disney shite. I'd rather go to Cedar Point or even Disneyland in California, which doesn't seem quite so cult-like.
Right now I'm typing this lying right next to the balcony, and if I look to my right I can see the stars above the ocean and hear the surf. I think the one really bright star I see is actually Venus. This part, I could get used to... But I have to admit, as nice as this is, I like Lake Michigan almost a little more. I'm not a salt water fan, for one thing.
Well, I think I'm going to lie down and stare out at the stars for a while.
The visit so far hasn't been bad; some things I expected but can deal with (the constant micromanaging of how I manage my kids). We're right now on a sort of vacation-within-a-vacation; my sister joined us and we're at a smallish resort on the Gulf coast in Treasure Island, which is right outside of St. Petersburg. It's a nice place -- you can tell it's about 50 years old, and it is kind of retro, but it's been beautifully kept up. It's definitely not an "upscale" place with tons of amenities, but I like it a lot.
To my surprise Max really did great with ocean swimming; I thought the waves would freak him out but he loved it. He had on his life vest and hung onto one of those "noodle" floatie things, and bobbed around in the waves and had the time of his life. He didn't even get fazed when a wave or two would slap him in the face, which totally surprised me. Emily had a ball too. Max and I headed into the pool for a while -- I think he'd had about enough waves and sand -- but that was nice too. Now they're both completely crashed out.
I do still get a little twitchy when both my mom and sister are around, because you can tell they totally don't get me or my parenting methods, and are quite sure they know more than me about everything. They've toned down expressing it considerably, but it still leaks out here and there. It makes me absolutely batshit crazy but I'm ignoring it as best I can. Other than snapping back at them or getting shit-faced drunk, there really isn't much else I can do to cope, and neither of the aforementioned options are viable right now, though I'm awfully tempted to sneak downstairs to the bar or maybe take a long walk on the beach in the dark...
Florida, though, as nice as it is to vacation here -- I definitely would not want to live down here. It just seems too "vacation-y" and weird; not only the tourist parts but all of it.
I think tomorrow we may go to Legoland on the way back to Orlando, and then after that I'm not sure what's on the agenda. Lots of swimming, maybe Sea World and/or Gatorland. Definitely not doing Disney. We went to the Magic Kingdom last year and it kind of sucked -- it was blistering hot, Max really wasn't into it at all, and honestly, I don't get the hype -- it is so insanely overpriced and it's just an amusement park full of Disney shite. I'd rather go to Cedar Point or even Disneyland in California, which doesn't seem quite so cult-like.
Right now I'm typing this lying right next to the balcony, and if I look to my right I can see the stars above the ocean and hear the surf. I think the one really bright star I see is actually Venus. This part, I could get used to... But I have to admit, as nice as this is, I like Lake Michigan almost a little more. I'm not a salt water fan, for one thing.
Well, I think I'm going to lie down and stare out at the stars for a while.
4.07.2012
Well, well...
...it seems I've attracted some new readers (hi Amy!!!). I can't express how grateful I am that people apparently enjoy my blog so much that they share it with friends. :)
Yes, I'm being a touch sarcastic here; the truth is that I don't really understand what the point was of directing attention to the "Montessori cluster[euphemism]" post to someone after the fact. We had a bad experience (again) with the Primary program, but I thought most readers of reasonable intelligence would realize that my blog is my place to vent and verbalize frustrations, nothing more.
At any rate, welcome aboard. Despite the abovementioned episode, I do have some positive things to say, so by all means, read on.
Anyway, things are chugging along. Max is still doing fine and we're getting ready for the IEP transition meeting for kindergarten readiness; I've got him enrolled for Market Street next year, and he continues to make progress in all the areas we've been working on. So our recent episode was just a bump in the road, it seems.
That said, Emily is slated for Montessori this fall; I do have a lot of confidence that it will be a great fit for her. She visited a few weeks ago for a morning and fell in love with the upper El class. Obviously, too, she doesn't have the same issues that Max has. And it doesn't hurt that three of her best friends will be in the class with her next fall (Boston, Ridley and Ben). She said it was a very different kind of class -- she said it was peaceful and comfortable. She liked how they worked in small groups and had the time to get help with things they struggled with, instead of everyone doing the same thing at the same time. She said she felt right at home and she liked Mrs. W. and the assistant teacher as well. I liked the same things when I observed; I also liked how the girls in particular seemed a lot less into their clothes, etc. -- it just seemed more "age appropriate" all around. So we're looking forward to this. It's definitely time for a change for her, anyway.
We will miss Akiva very much, despite some of our recent concerns about it. Most of all we're going to miss the Jewish education (despite some of it being more watered-down than we would like). I like her class, too. Out of the 12 kids, 10 have been together since kindergarten and it's been lovely to watch them all grow up. But with J not being there next year, that does change things for her friend-wise. That's not a reason to change, of course, but it does make the case for staying even weaker. I am going to make sure she stays in touch with her friends there, and hope she continues to have those friendships for a long time.
Getting ready to go to FL next week to visit Mom. It should be an OK trip, although not without the usual Mom issues. I know the kids will have a ball though, so that's what I'm going to focus on. It'll be nice to get away for a bit anyway, I guess.
Had a minor health scare but it seems all is well. Ah well, not getting any younger.
Yes, I'm being a touch sarcastic here; the truth is that I don't really understand what the point was of directing attention to the "Montessori cluster[euphemism]" post to someone after the fact. We had a bad experience (again) with the Primary program, but I thought most readers of reasonable intelligence would realize that my blog is my place to vent and verbalize frustrations, nothing more.
At any rate, welcome aboard. Despite the abovementioned episode, I do have some positive things to say, so by all means, read on.
Anyway, things are chugging along. Max is still doing fine and we're getting ready for the IEP transition meeting for kindergarten readiness; I've got him enrolled for Market Street next year, and he continues to make progress in all the areas we've been working on. So our recent episode was just a bump in the road, it seems.
That said, Emily is slated for Montessori this fall; I do have a lot of confidence that it will be a great fit for her. She visited a few weeks ago for a morning and fell in love with the upper El class. Obviously, too, she doesn't have the same issues that Max has. And it doesn't hurt that three of her best friends will be in the class with her next fall (Boston, Ridley and Ben). She said it was a very different kind of class -- she said it was peaceful and comfortable. She liked how they worked in small groups and had the time to get help with things they struggled with, instead of everyone doing the same thing at the same time. She said she felt right at home and she liked Mrs. W. and the assistant teacher as well. I liked the same things when I observed; I also liked how the girls in particular seemed a lot less into their clothes, etc. -- it just seemed more "age appropriate" all around. So we're looking forward to this. It's definitely time for a change for her, anyway.
We will miss Akiva very much, despite some of our recent concerns about it. Most of all we're going to miss the Jewish education (despite some of it being more watered-down than we would like). I like her class, too. Out of the 12 kids, 10 have been together since kindergarten and it's been lovely to watch them all grow up. But with J not being there next year, that does change things for her friend-wise. That's not a reason to change, of course, but it does make the case for staying even weaker. I am going to make sure she stays in touch with her friends there, and hope she continues to have those friendships for a long time.
Getting ready to go to FL next week to visit Mom. It should be an OK trip, although not without the usual Mom issues. I know the kids will have a ball though, so that's what I'm going to focus on. It'll be nice to get away for a bit anyway, I guess.
Had a minor health scare but it seems all is well. Ah well, not getting any younger.
2.24.2012
Aaaand...
indeed, the definition of insanity is doing the same thing twice and expecting different results. Long story short -- Montessori was YET AGAIN a clusterfuck, and Max is happily back at his old preschool, and I am kicking myself for wasting two weeks of my and my family's life. But -- it's a long boring whiny story and even I am sick of it, so, onward.
Anyway, just getting through February/winter. Things are good in general; just need to get my shite together and get this place cleaned/decluttered, and start working on myself a bit more (back to exercising, etc.).
Heart is breaking for a friend (friends) of mine who are going through major financial/marital/health crises right now. Hoping everything works out for them, wishing there was some way I could help that happen.
Anyway, just getting through February/winter. Things are good in general; just need to get my shite together and get this place cleaned/decluttered, and start working on myself a bit more (back to exercising, etc.).
Heart is breaking for a friend (friends) of mine who are going through major financial/marital/health crises right now. Hoping everything works out for them, wishing there was some way I could help that happen.
1.28.2012
Hulksmash
So yesterday I had a meeting with Max's IEP team (Michelle/OT and Dawn/Speech). Oh my fucking GAWD. Dawn (who I didn't even recognize at first because I never see the woman and she never gives me any documentation/info without my having to beg for it) was all "oh geeee, I just don't knooowwww if Montessori is a good idea for Max; I don't knooowwww if they'll do anything good for him; he's made soooo much progress and I just don't knooowwww anything whatsoever about Montessori; I'm just here to advocate for Max and make sure he gets what he neeeeeeds, bla bla bla" and then MICHELLE who has been nothing but enthusiastic and supportive about the whole thing so far is suddenly all "I haven't heard back from Amy and I don't know if she's going to want to work with us and I'm just worried bla bla bla."
A "professional" speech therapist who works exclusively with children should probably have at least a minimal knowledge of other education philosophies outside of the ONE school district she services. And where does she get off with the "I'm just Max's advocate and want what's best for him" with the puppy dog eyes.
And Michelle? Love her to death and she has done truly amazing things for Max, but since when is it on ME to do her job and follow through when she hasn't gotten a reply she needs? She's string there bleating about how gee, she hasn't heard back from Amy-Anne after their last email exchange and golly, what if they don't want her to work with Max and oh no, maybe I offended her. Ok, so do what any semi-intelligent person would do -- follow up with an email or better yet, a phone call and just say "hey, let's touch base about Max; let me know your thoughts about working with him and what would work best for everyone; please get back to me at your earliest convenience."
And just to make it that much more special, DO YOU HAVE TO WAIT INTIL LITERALLY ONE HOUR AFTER HE'S JUST LEFT HIS OLD PRESCHOOL FOR THE LAST TIME???? If there were concerns, they could have been brought up in NOVEMBER 2011 when I first told you I was considering switching him over. GAAAAH.
So of course they totally have me second-guessing this shit AGAIN and all panicky about yet another Montessori disaster. Tapped right into the last remnants of my PTSD from our first go-round. It was not a pretty day.
I was on shaky emotional ground anyway because of the http://storycorps.org/listen/stories/dennis-and-buelah-apple/ Storycorps episode that I had woken up to; compounded by having just picked Max up from St. Mark's for the last time and feeling very bittersweet about the end of this stage. Top with having a cold and being a bit fatigued, and it was just a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
And I remember when they were infants and thinking, "it can only get easier from here, right?" It is to laugh.
Onward.
A "professional" speech therapist who works exclusively with children should probably have at least a minimal knowledge of other education philosophies outside of the ONE school district she services. And where does she get off with the "I'm just Max's advocate and want what's best for him" with the puppy dog eyes.
And Michelle? Love her to death and she has done truly amazing things for Max, but since when is it on ME to do her job and follow through when she hasn't gotten a reply she needs? She's string there bleating about how gee, she hasn't heard back from Amy-Anne after their last email exchange and golly, what if they don't want her to work with Max and oh no, maybe I offended her. Ok, so do what any semi-intelligent person would do -- follow up with an email or better yet, a phone call and just say "hey, let's touch base about Max; let me know your thoughts about working with him and what would work best for everyone; please get back to me at your earliest convenience."
And just to make it that much more special, DO YOU HAVE TO WAIT INTIL LITERALLY ONE HOUR AFTER HE'S JUST LEFT HIS OLD PRESCHOOL FOR THE LAST TIME???? If there were concerns, they could have been brought up in NOVEMBER 2011 when I first told you I was considering switching him over. GAAAAH.
So of course they totally have me second-guessing this shit AGAIN and all panicky about yet another Montessori disaster. Tapped right into the last remnants of my PTSD from our first go-round. It was not a pretty day.
I was on shaky emotional ground anyway because of the http://storycorps.org/listen/stories/dennis-and-buelah-apple/ Storycorps episode that I had woken up to; compounded by having just picked Max up from St. Mark's for the last time and feeling very bittersweet about the end of this stage. Top with having a cold and being a bit fatigued, and it was just a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
And I remember when they were infants and thinking, "it can only get easier from here, right?" It is to laugh.
Onward.
1.25.2012
random updates
Well, as mentioned before, Max will start at the Montessori school next Wednesday, February 1. I know he's getting a little confused about the whole idea. We are explaining it to him and showing him the days on the calendar, etc. but I just can't get a handle on how much he understands. I do know that, while he likes his current school (and I do too) he seems to be much more interested in going to the Montessori school -- in the mornings when he's doing his whole "I wanna stay home/stay asleep/play DS all day" schtick, he sometimes says he wants to go to Montessori. Keeping everything crossed that the transition is an easy one.
Friday will be his last day at St. Mark's, and then we'll take Monday and Tuesday off before he starts Montessori on the 1st. It's a bit of an awkward gap, but his teacher figured it would be a bit easier than one day going to one school and then BAM another day starting somewhere new. I need to figure out something nice to do for them. I'm going to be donating a shit-ton (approximately) of baby toys and books to their infant and toddler room, since they indicated a need for extras, but I'd like to make a donation or maybe get them some kind of a gift card for a place like Carson/Dellossa or anywhere they can get nice new materials for their classes. They have done so much for Max, and I honestly don't know how we would have survived if he hadn't been able to go there last year for the 3's.
It's going to be a bit hectic in the mornings, getting Emily to Akiva and then Max to Montessori, but he'll only be going half-days for the rest of this year, so pickup is going to be a breeze. Next year, Emily will be at Montessori too, so it will be amazingly simple. It's going to be so nice having two kids in the same school -- it'll sure cut down on the mileage if nothing else.
I feel kind of sad about taking Emily out of Akiva. From a logistical standpoint, though, it just doesn't seem possible to have the two of them at different schools once Max starts going full-time (presumably next fall). I do not like the direction Akiva is going in currently (taking in way too many EdChoice kids that just aren't up to the academic and behavior standards, the watering-down of the Judaica) but Emily's class is relatively unaffected by this. Her group is sort of the last "old-school" type of class there, in that most of the kids are Jewish and part of the local Jewish community; all but one of them are not EdChoice; all but two of them have been there since at least first grade and are well-versed in the Hebrew and Judaica studies. It really is a great group of kids and I have loved watching them all grow up together. I will miss them terribly.
Emily has mixed feelings -- she will miss her class and the teachers and the school, but she says there is starting to be a lot more chaos and bad behavior overall; not so much in her class or the upper grades but in the school in general. The climate of the place has really changed, and not for the better, unfortunately. She has good friends in the class (in particular Julia and Caroline) but she isn't as much a part of the local Jewish community as they all are. Whereas at Montessori, she will be with Boston, Ridley, AND Ben M. -- three of her best friends, that she is more involved with outside of school, between dance and mutual friends and YSU stuff. Plus I'm closer to their parents as my own friends, where while I quite like most of the parents at Akiva, I haven't really become close to any of them outside of school. Gretchen would be an exception, but I hardly think of her as an Akiva parent -- I never see her there, Emily and Andrew aren't close any more, and my friendship with Gretchen so far predates the Akiva era anyway.
She's excited to go to Montessori, and is actually kind of pleased also about being at school with Max. I think it will be a good fit for her. In particular, the way they learn math (with more manipulatives and hands-on lessons rather than just workbooks) will probably be what saves her, because she is not doing well with that at all. Largely this is due to the fact that she isn't lazy exactly, but doesn't want to persist at something if she doesn't get it right away. (I know... chip off the old block.) And she has a great memory for stuff like spelling, and if she'd just apply it to learning, say, the times tables and basic math procedures she'd be amazing at it. With the multi-age classroom, too, she can work ahead as far as she needs to (she's way beyond grade level with reading and spelling) and get all the extra time/help she needs with stuff like math, both from the teacher and from her peers.
I will really miss the Jewish education and what it's added to our lives, though. I love that I have learned so much about it and it helped me feel closer to my dad and the memory of my grandpa; I love that Emily feels proud of that part of her heritage; I love that she not only learned another language starting all the way back in kindergarten, but a language with a totally different alphabet that goes backwards! That is a HUGE thing and too many kids don't get that opportunity. I will miss that dreadfully. I am also sad that Max won't really have it at all. I know we could get involved with Rodef Sholom or Ohev Tzedek, and I do want to keep that alive, but the continuity won't be there as it is now with Akiva being a big part of our lives.
In other news, I recently got back in touch with my very first boyfriend ever, DB. I got friended recently with an old high school classmate that DB used to know, and was scrolling down the friends list and BLAM, there he was. Hadn't thought of him in decades. I wrote a quick "hi how are you" message and a few days later he friended me.
I actually met him right before I turned 15, when my mom and sister and I went to Baskin Robbins to get ice cream. He was working there (he was 16) and started talking to me, and being quite flirty. We went back a few days later and he asked me if I wanted to see his car. OF COURSE I did. So he walked me out to the parking lot, showed me this mint-condition early-70's yellow Cutlass 442 convertible, and then asked me out. No fool, he. Of course, I said yes. I liked him, but I was also completely and utterly dazzled and bowled over by the car, his attention and the prospect of dating him. This was the first time I was ever asked out on a date.
I remember being really hesitant about asking my parents if I could go. I thought the biggest obstacle would be my father, since he was a big worrier and was always ragging on me if I had crushes on someone, and just generally treating me like I was four years old. I figured my mother would be understanding, since she generally was (my, how things have changed), and because she had met him at the store those two times and seemed to like him. So I asked Dad (after psyching myself up) and he completely took the wind out of my sails with, "Ok, it's fine with me if your mother is OK with it." Whuck??? I had expected at the very least, a tirade about rotten boys and me being too young and yadda yadda. I was totally gobsmacked.
So later on, I went to Mom and of all things, SHE put me through the third, fourth and fifth degrees. "How do you know he's a nice boy? Why do you want to go out with him? Do you think you're old enough? I don't think you can handle this. Are you sure you like him? Why should we let you go out with him?" Again, totally gobsmacked, and unprepared for the barrage. Somehow, though, I ended up getting permission, and with the caveat that I had to be home by 11:00 and that he had to come in and meet them first, it was on.
Our first date, we went to see "Airplane" and then out for ice cream afterwards. There was some kissing and canoodling, which was all very thrilling. We had a great time, we were both obviously crushing really really hard on each other, and it was just all ice cream and rainbows.
We continued to date for another three weeks or so, with progressively more intense necking sessions in the car, etc. It was thrilling, of course, and I enjoyed it mightily. We also were quite sure we were "in love", for real. Deeply infatuated, no doubt. Love... probably not.
Very fortunately, he was a genuinely decent kid who never pressured me -- one of the first things he said is "We won't do anything you don't want to do" and he meant it, which made me more comfortable with doing more. We never got so far as actual sex, thank God, because I was way way way way too young (and he was too, really), but it was on the table for a while.
Then out of the blue, his dad got transferred, and they had to move. We broke up (at his parents' behest, from my understanding) right before the move. I was DEVASTATED. I spent the rest of that summer mooning around and crying and just generally being miserable, which in hindsight was ridiculous, but at the time it was a big deal.
While I look back fondly on that period, I also have to wonder just what in HELL my parents were thinking, letting me date at all at that age (barely 15), let alone going out with a guy in a car. Granted, he wasn't much older than me, so we were both kids, but still. I cannot even begin to fathom letting Emily do this in 5 years. I have no doubt she will be asked out a lot -- she is gorgeous (in my admittedly biased opinion) and socially pretty adept and friendly, so there will be boyfriends and attention. But no way in hell is she going to be dating one-on-one (do kids even do that any more) until she's like 16 or 17, MAYBE. Good lord. I really was too young to be dating, let alone getting emotionally and somewhat physically involved with anyone, at barely 15.
I dated a few other people after that, before I met Jon, but nothing ever got to that point until Jon -- lots of fun, beer and making out, but not the major emotional involvement. And then when I met Jon, while I had a mad crush on him from the start, things progressed more slowly, and we were friends and got to know each other during that time, along with the dating/romance. Also, of course, we were older (I was 17 and he was 18) and those two years from 15 to 17 do make a difference at that stage.
Something I just realized -- of all my old boyfriends, only one of them has had kids. All the rest have remained childless, though all but one are married. Interesting.
One sad thing is that DB's 16yo nephew has just died, from some type of heart defect/stroke. I wish I could send a message/condolences to his sister and parents, but I don't want to intrude and I don't know if they remember me anyway. I did give condolences to DB. I can tell he's devastated.
Another bit of fun -- with my dad's estate. So it seems that, while there was/is a will, nobody has a clue where it is, and apparently we can't move forward with his tax return until there is some kind of will in hand, and an executor named (which I think would be my sister, so why I'm busting my ass on all of this is beyond me). My accountant has gone above and beyond trying to help us figure this out, but he is finally at a stopping point. So, it looks like the only thing we can do is go to probate court and try to get this resolved. Whoo-fucking-hoo. I really, really really hate how this has been going. My mother, who had been divorced from my dad for at least 15 years before he died, is riding my ass constantly about all of this. I am ready to kill. The man is dead. So what if the tax refund can't be retrieved? it's only money. It won't bring him back, and it's not like any of us *need* it since we're all doing just fine financially.
I have already told her that I want absolutely zero, zip, nada to do with any of her wills/paperwork/etc. when her time comes. My sister gets to do this one -- every last bit of it. My mom is convinced I'll fuck it all up anyway (not that it would matter since she'd be DEAD) but if I know her, she'll find a way to harass me from beyond the grave if I have anything to do with it. Gah.
And that's about it for now.
Friday will be his last day at St. Mark's, and then we'll take Monday and Tuesday off before he starts Montessori on the 1st. It's a bit of an awkward gap, but his teacher figured it would be a bit easier than one day going to one school and then BAM another day starting somewhere new. I need to figure out something nice to do for them. I'm going to be donating a shit-ton (approximately) of baby toys and books to their infant and toddler room, since they indicated a need for extras, but I'd like to make a donation or maybe get them some kind of a gift card for a place like Carson/Dellossa or anywhere they can get nice new materials for their classes. They have done so much for Max, and I honestly don't know how we would have survived if he hadn't been able to go there last year for the 3's.
It's going to be a bit hectic in the mornings, getting Emily to Akiva and then Max to Montessori, but he'll only be going half-days for the rest of this year, so pickup is going to be a breeze. Next year, Emily will be at Montessori too, so it will be amazingly simple. It's going to be so nice having two kids in the same school -- it'll sure cut down on the mileage if nothing else.
I feel kind of sad about taking Emily out of Akiva. From a logistical standpoint, though, it just doesn't seem possible to have the two of them at different schools once Max starts going full-time (presumably next fall). I do not like the direction Akiva is going in currently (taking in way too many EdChoice kids that just aren't up to the academic and behavior standards, the watering-down of the Judaica) but Emily's class is relatively unaffected by this. Her group is sort of the last "old-school" type of class there, in that most of the kids are Jewish and part of the local Jewish community; all but one of them are not EdChoice; all but two of them have been there since at least first grade and are well-versed in the Hebrew and Judaica studies. It really is a great group of kids and I have loved watching them all grow up together. I will miss them terribly.
Emily has mixed feelings -- she will miss her class and the teachers and the school, but she says there is starting to be a lot more chaos and bad behavior overall; not so much in her class or the upper grades but in the school in general. The climate of the place has really changed, and not for the better, unfortunately. She has good friends in the class (in particular Julia and Caroline) but she isn't as much a part of the local Jewish community as they all are. Whereas at Montessori, she will be with Boston, Ridley, AND Ben M. -- three of her best friends, that she is more involved with outside of school, between dance and mutual friends and YSU stuff. Plus I'm closer to their parents as my own friends, where while I quite like most of the parents at Akiva, I haven't really become close to any of them outside of school. Gretchen would be an exception, but I hardly think of her as an Akiva parent -- I never see her there, Emily and Andrew aren't close any more, and my friendship with Gretchen so far predates the Akiva era anyway.
She's excited to go to Montessori, and is actually kind of pleased also about being at school with Max. I think it will be a good fit for her. In particular, the way they learn math (with more manipulatives and hands-on lessons rather than just workbooks) will probably be what saves her, because she is not doing well with that at all. Largely this is due to the fact that she isn't lazy exactly, but doesn't want to persist at something if she doesn't get it right away. (I know... chip off the old block.) And she has a great memory for stuff like spelling, and if she'd just apply it to learning, say, the times tables and basic math procedures she'd be amazing at it. With the multi-age classroom, too, she can work ahead as far as she needs to (she's way beyond grade level with reading and spelling) and get all the extra time/help she needs with stuff like math, both from the teacher and from her peers.
I will really miss the Jewish education and what it's added to our lives, though. I love that I have learned so much about it and it helped me feel closer to my dad and the memory of my grandpa; I love that Emily feels proud of that part of her heritage; I love that she not only learned another language starting all the way back in kindergarten, but a language with a totally different alphabet that goes backwards! That is a HUGE thing and too many kids don't get that opportunity. I will miss that dreadfully. I am also sad that Max won't really have it at all. I know we could get involved with Rodef Sholom or Ohev Tzedek, and I do want to keep that alive, but the continuity won't be there as it is now with Akiva being a big part of our lives.
In other news, I recently got back in touch with my very first boyfriend ever, DB. I got friended recently with an old high school classmate that DB used to know, and was scrolling down the friends list and BLAM, there he was. Hadn't thought of him in decades. I wrote a quick "hi how are you" message and a few days later he friended me.
I actually met him right before I turned 15, when my mom and sister and I went to Baskin Robbins to get ice cream. He was working there (he was 16) and started talking to me, and being quite flirty. We went back a few days later and he asked me if I wanted to see his car. OF COURSE I did. So he walked me out to the parking lot, showed me this mint-condition early-70's yellow Cutlass 442 convertible, and then asked me out. No fool, he. Of course, I said yes. I liked him, but I was also completely and utterly dazzled and bowled over by the car, his attention and the prospect of dating him. This was the first time I was ever asked out on a date.
I remember being really hesitant about asking my parents if I could go. I thought the biggest obstacle would be my father, since he was a big worrier and was always ragging on me if I had crushes on someone, and just generally treating me like I was four years old. I figured my mother would be understanding, since she generally was (my, how things have changed), and because she had met him at the store those two times and seemed to like him. So I asked Dad (after psyching myself up) and he completely took the wind out of my sails with, "Ok, it's fine with me if your mother is OK with it." Whuck??? I had expected at the very least, a tirade about rotten boys and me being too young and yadda yadda. I was totally gobsmacked.
So later on, I went to Mom and of all things, SHE put me through the third, fourth and fifth degrees. "How do you know he's a nice boy? Why do you want to go out with him? Do you think you're old enough? I don't think you can handle this. Are you sure you like him? Why should we let you go out with him?" Again, totally gobsmacked, and unprepared for the barrage. Somehow, though, I ended up getting permission, and with the caveat that I had to be home by 11:00 and that he had to come in and meet them first, it was on.
Our first date, we went to see "Airplane" and then out for ice cream afterwards. There was some kissing and canoodling, which was all very thrilling. We had a great time, we were both obviously crushing really really hard on each other, and it was just all ice cream and rainbows.
We continued to date for another three weeks or so, with progressively more intense necking sessions in the car, etc. It was thrilling, of course, and I enjoyed it mightily. We also were quite sure we were "in love", for real. Deeply infatuated, no doubt. Love... probably not.
Very fortunately, he was a genuinely decent kid who never pressured me -- one of the first things he said is "We won't do anything you don't want to do" and he meant it, which made me more comfortable with doing more. We never got so far as actual sex, thank God, because I was way way way way too young (and he was too, really), but it was on the table for a while.
Then out of the blue, his dad got transferred, and they had to move. We broke up (at his parents' behest, from my understanding) right before the move. I was DEVASTATED. I spent the rest of that summer mooning around and crying and just generally being miserable, which in hindsight was ridiculous, but at the time it was a big deal.
While I look back fondly on that period, I also have to wonder just what in HELL my parents were thinking, letting me date at all at that age (barely 15), let alone going out with a guy in a car. Granted, he wasn't much older than me, so we were both kids, but still. I cannot even begin to fathom letting Emily do this in 5 years. I have no doubt she will be asked out a lot -- she is gorgeous (in my admittedly biased opinion) and socially pretty adept and friendly, so there will be boyfriends and attention. But no way in hell is she going to be dating one-on-one (do kids even do that any more) until she's like 16 or 17, MAYBE. Good lord. I really was too young to be dating, let alone getting emotionally and somewhat physically involved with anyone, at barely 15.
I dated a few other people after that, before I met Jon, but nothing ever got to that point until Jon -- lots of fun, beer and making out, but not the major emotional involvement. And then when I met Jon, while I had a mad crush on him from the start, things progressed more slowly, and we were friends and got to know each other during that time, along with the dating/romance. Also, of course, we were older (I was 17 and he was 18) and those two years from 15 to 17 do make a difference at that stage.
Something I just realized -- of all my old boyfriends, only one of them has had kids. All the rest have remained childless, though all but one are married. Interesting.
One sad thing is that DB's 16yo nephew has just died, from some type of heart defect/stroke. I wish I could send a message/condolences to his sister and parents, but I don't want to intrude and I don't know if they remember me anyway. I did give condolences to DB. I can tell he's devastated.
Another bit of fun -- with my dad's estate. So it seems that, while there was/is a will, nobody has a clue where it is, and apparently we can't move forward with his tax return until there is some kind of will in hand, and an executor named (which I think would be my sister, so why I'm busting my ass on all of this is beyond me). My accountant has gone above and beyond trying to help us figure this out, but he is finally at a stopping point. So, it looks like the only thing we can do is go to probate court and try to get this resolved. Whoo-fucking-hoo. I really, really really hate how this has been going. My mother, who had been divorced from my dad for at least 15 years before he died, is riding my ass constantly about all of this. I am ready to kill. The man is dead. So what if the tax refund can't be retrieved? it's only money. It won't bring him back, and it's not like any of us *need* it since we're all doing just fine financially.
I have already told her that I want absolutely zero, zip, nada to do with any of her wills/paperwork/etc. when her time comes. My sister gets to do this one -- every last bit of it. My mom is convinced I'll fuck it all up anyway (not that it would matter since she'd be DEAD) but if I know her, she'll find a way to harass me from beyond the grave if I have anything to do with it. Gah.
And that's about it for now.
1.22.2012
Yes, again.
I'm well aware that "the definition of insanity is doing the same thing and expecting different results", but with that in mind, Max will start at Montessori in a week or so, and Emily will be switching to Montessori next fall. Yes, I know we went through total hell on our first go-round with Emily there, but things have changed at the school, and the long and the short of it is, Max would absolutely thrive in that kind of classroom and not so much in a traditional one. So, there we are.
Emily's pretty cool with switching schools. It helps that three of her best friends will be in the class (Boston, Ridley and Ben M.) and also things at Akiva just aren't that great any more (another long boring rant which I'll spare you).
I can't believe how little I have to say. Bleah. I used to journal up a storm, notebook after notebook after notebook. Granted it was all "me me me" stuff; nothing interesting or political or worth reading if you weren't me, but it was very therapeutic.
Oh well. I'll post more, or not. Stay tuned. Or don't.
Emily's pretty cool with switching schools. It helps that three of her best friends will be in the class (Boston, Ridley and Ben M.) and also things at Akiva just aren't that great any more (another long boring rant which I'll spare you).
I can't believe how little I have to say. Bleah. I used to journal up a storm, notebook after notebook after notebook. Granted it was all "me me me" stuff; nothing interesting or political or worth reading if you weren't me, but it was very therapeutic.
Oh well. I'll post more, or not. Stay tuned. Or don't.
12.05.2011
2011, so far
OK, so, it's been over a year since I last posted. I never claimed to be a consistent or disciplined blogger (blah-ger).
So Dad's been gone for a year, but I still miss him. The anniversary was difficult.
I also lost my first, best friend Tom on November 3rd. He and his girlfriend LeeAnn were driving his truck (they were a long-haul trucking team) and something happened; she crossed the median and they hit another semi head-on, and promptly died in a fiery crash.
That doesn't seem real to me either. The only people I've known longer or better than Tom are my parents. I met him when I was just a year old. As adults we occasionally drifted out of touch, but always reconnected and always were immediately as close as we'd ever been. He was a friend of Jon's also and is indirectly responsible for the fact that we are together; in high school when he knew I liked Jon, he let Jon know that and kept encouraging him to ask me out... and here we are 29 years later (with a few breaks during the college years, but those are other stories for other times).
I have been in touch with his mom. It's distinctly odd that someone who was almost another mother to me is now someone I am providing guidance and comfort too. Losing a child is such a devastating, unexpected and singular thing, that nobody can possibly help you with this except someone else who has lost a child. So I feel like this veteran who is helping a new member of our ranks. She says it helps, and in a way it helps me too, both with Tom's loss and still processing Hannah's.
There was a small memorial gathering on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, so I went up to East Lansing for that. It was a remarkable trip in many ways. Aside from the fact that it was going "home" for me (though I no longer have a home base there), the memorial gathering turned out to be so much more wonderful than I could have imagined. There were old friends there and some amazing music courtesy of Tom's brother Glenn and some amazing musician friends; I reconnected with a long-estranged friend (Gregg S.) and as with Tom, it was as though no time had passed; I spent time around people and places that were as much a part of me as my DNA, and I also made a stop in Detroit to have lunch with an old friend/flame, Miguel. That meant so much to me, and I hope it did to him. I didn't realize just how much I had been impacted by him until we met up again.
We had a great Thanksgiving, with Gary and Nesha and the family (including Sophy and Adam) coming to our house. I made enough food for about 25 people, which was a bit over the top as there were only 10 of us, but it was delicious and we had a great time.
Emily was in the BWR production of The Nutcracker this past weekend, as a mouse in the first act and a candy cane (in the Russian dance) in the second. Rehearsals had been going strong since October and the week before the performance there were 4-hour rehearsals every night. Emily was magnificent, although I realize I'm biased, but she said she loved being on stage and wasn't even slightly nervous. I think the girl has been bitten by the performance bug. From a technical standpoint, she has a very long way to go (and needs to work much harder) in ballet, but there is no doubt she loves dance and I think is going to stay with it for a long time.
I can't express how proud and how deeply moved I was by seeing her be a part of this and perform so well. There is no thrill on earth that compares with it.
Things with Jon are very, very good. Long story short, apparently some hormonal deficiencies on my part (and probably 13 years of sleep deprivation/pregnancy/lactation/kid-chasing played a part) had pretty much eliminated my, um, "drive", but some bloodwork with my ob/gyn showed that I had a pretty much nonexistent testosterone level. She started me on a small supplement, and all I can say is, shazam! It's made all the difference; I don't remember things being this much fun since before we had kids. Jon is happy to have the old me back, and I am enjoying it as well.
Of course, there are still the holidays to get through. This year, the anniversary of Hannah's death is the same night as Emily's school Hanukkah program. It feels weird and not quite right to be doing something else (not focused on Hannah) on that day), but at the same time, I realize that that's a day of mourning for us but there are other days to honor her memory, like her birthday (in April). So, looks like this year we will not be in Michigan over that date, and it will be hard, but I think watching Emily doing something she loves and celebrating a holiday will help us through it. I hope so, anyway.
So Dad's been gone for a year, but I still miss him. The anniversary was difficult.
I also lost my first, best friend Tom on November 3rd. He and his girlfriend LeeAnn were driving his truck (they were a long-haul trucking team) and something happened; she crossed the median and they hit another semi head-on, and promptly died in a fiery crash.
That doesn't seem real to me either. The only people I've known longer or better than Tom are my parents. I met him when I was just a year old. As adults we occasionally drifted out of touch, but always reconnected and always were immediately as close as we'd ever been. He was a friend of Jon's also and is indirectly responsible for the fact that we are together; in high school when he knew I liked Jon, he let Jon know that and kept encouraging him to ask me out... and here we are 29 years later (with a few breaks during the college years, but those are other stories for other times).
I have been in touch with his mom. It's distinctly odd that someone who was almost another mother to me is now someone I am providing guidance and comfort too. Losing a child is such a devastating, unexpected and singular thing, that nobody can possibly help you with this except someone else who has lost a child. So I feel like this veteran who is helping a new member of our ranks. She says it helps, and in a way it helps me too, both with Tom's loss and still processing Hannah's.
There was a small memorial gathering on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, so I went up to East Lansing for that. It was a remarkable trip in many ways. Aside from the fact that it was going "home" for me (though I no longer have a home base there), the memorial gathering turned out to be so much more wonderful than I could have imagined. There were old friends there and some amazing music courtesy of Tom's brother Glenn and some amazing musician friends; I reconnected with a long-estranged friend (Gregg S.) and as with Tom, it was as though no time had passed; I spent time around people and places that were as much a part of me as my DNA, and I also made a stop in Detroit to have lunch with an old friend/flame, Miguel. That meant so much to me, and I hope it did to him. I didn't realize just how much I had been impacted by him until we met up again.
We had a great Thanksgiving, with Gary and Nesha and the family (including Sophy and Adam) coming to our house. I made enough food for about 25 people, which was a bit over the top as there were only 10 of us, but it was delicious and we had a great time.
Emily was in the BWR production of The Nutcracker this past weekend, as a mouse in the first act and a candy cane (in the Russian dance) in the second. Rehearsals had been going strong since October and the week before the performance there were 4-hour rehearsals every night. Emily was magnificent, although I realize I'm biased, but she said she loved being on stage and wasn't even slightly nervous. I think the girl has been bitten by the performance bug. From a technical standpoint, she has a very long way to go (and needs to work much harder) in ballet, but there is no doubt she loves dance and I think is going to stay with it for a long time.
I can't express how proud and how deeply moved I was by seeing her be a part of this and perform so well. There is no thrill on earth that compares with it.
Things with Jon are very, very good. Long story short, apparently some hormonal deficiencies on my part (and probably 13 years of sleep deprivation/pregnancy/lactation/kid-chasing played a part) had pretty much eliminated my, um, "drive", but some bloodwork with my ob/gyn showed that I had a pretty much nonexistent testosterone level. She started me on a small supplement, and all I can say is, shazam! It's made all the difference; I don't remember things being this much fun since before we had kids. Jon is happy to have the old me back, and I am enjoying it as well.
Of course, there are still the holidays to get through. This year, the anniversary of Hannah's death is the same night as Emily's school Hanukkah program. It feels weird and not quite right to be doing something else (not focused on Hannah) on that day), but at the same time, I realize that that's a day of mourning for us but there are other days to honor her memory, like her birthday (in April). So, looks like this year we will not be in Michigan over that date, and it will be hard, but I think watching Emily doing something she loves and celebrating a holiday will help us through it. I hope so, anyway.
11.16.2010
Dad is gone
I got the call Thursday morning that it was a matter of hours, and frantically got packed and got a flight and raced down there again (I had just gotten back from TX a few days earlier after spending a week there because "it was a matter of hours" but I digress).
I was terrified I wouldn't make it, since I couldn't get there until about 11 p.m., but thankfully I was there in time, walked in around 11:30 p.m.
He was a bit restless and was fighting off an oxygen mask. When I got there, and they removed the mask and just replaced it with the little tube thingys that go in the nostrils, he calmed right down. I *think* he knew I was there -- I know he made eye contact and would periodically look over at me -- but he wasn't speaking by then and I couldn't tell for sure.
I sat and held his hand (it was very cold) and talked to him periodically. Now and then he'd look over at me and I'd just nod and smile and say, "Yes, I'm here... try to rest, OK?" and he'd lay back and close his eyes. After an hour or so he didn't look over any more. He was breathing quietly; sometimes there'd be a long pause between breaths and it would freak me out, but then another would come.
Around 2 a.m. I was starting to fall asleep and I thought I would just close my eyes for a second. Not 20 minutes later, I was awakened by the nurse and the aide coming into the room and saying his heart had stopped (they had telemetry monitors) and he wasn't breathing. Sure enough, he was gone.
I called my cousin and she got there shortly, and we sat and waited for... whoever, the funeral home guy. It was sad, but it was a relief not to have all those machines attached to Dad pinging away. He really did look peaceful.
Anyway, some chaplain guy comes in around 4:30 a.m. I still don't know if he was affiliated with the hospital or the funeral home... He talks with us a bit, says a nice prayer (my cousin is EXTREEEEMELY Catholic and I knew that even though Dad wasn't religious it would be comforting to her).
THEN... he starts rambling about some song that is supposedly played a lot at funerals there, written by "a native son... Kris Kristofferson!" (Brownsville, TX). I started thinking "oh dear God, please don't sing... please don't sing..." and then he whips something out of his pocket. I thought it was an iPod and he was going to just play a Kris Kristofferson song, which was bad enough. But it was a HARMONICA. He proceeds to play the hell out of some extremely maudlin wheezy tune (presumably a Kris Kristofferson song?) and I was torn between extreme horror and an urge to burst out laughing.
THEN he sang. It was horrific. I was petrified -- my cousin was clearly moved, and I didn't want to spoil the moment for her, but all I could think was that if my dad could see and hear this guy he would sit right up and order this lunatic out of the room (probably with a generous helping of English AND Spanish cursing), and that made me want to laugh even more. I was nearly choking, trying not to just burst out guffawing.
Finally he and his assistant and, I think, the nurse, gave us a few minutes alone with Dad's body, then had us leave the room and they did whatever it is they do to put the body on the funeral home gurney and cover it up with the fancy funeral home cloth/rug/whatever.
THEN we follow him to the staff elevator (because as he said, "We can't walk the dead bodies out of the front door of the hospital". No shit...?) and his assistant punches the elevator button. The door opens almost immediately, but Chaplain Dude stands there and proceeds to tell us a long, long story about how we should wash our hands, faces and lips after saying our final goodbyes, because bodies start to exude toxins as soon as the heart stops beating, and apparently this one lady in a family he helped take care of got deathly ill from kissing her husband goodbye before they took him to the funeral home.
AND THE WHOLE TIME HE'S TELLING US THIS HE'S LEANING ON MY DAD. I mean, he has one elbow lightly resting on Dad's chest, like it's a counter or something. I finally just interrupted him and said, "Dude -- could you please not lean on my father?" He immediately straightened up and without missing a beat continued his story.
By this time, I'd been up for close to 24 hours, so it was just getting crazier. We left the hospital, and I followed my cousin back to her house, and I was laughing like a fool all the way there (luckily I was alone in my rented PT Cruiser -- another touch of the surreal...).
Anyway, it was weird the next day or so, because I kept thinking "We have to get back to the hospital and check on Dad... oh, wait".
I did have a nice time visiting my cousins there. We spent time together, ate like pigs, and talked about Dad and told all kinds of stories. I ate nothing but Mexican food -- chorizo and beans and fresh flour tortillas for breakfast, enchiladas, homemade tamales, barbacoa, botanas... you name it.
I do not want to eat Mexican food in any way, shape or form again for at least a month, by the way.
Per his request, Dad was cremated and we are going to plan a memorial service down there sometime in the spring. Also, I was contacted tonight by someone at Michigan State University (where Dad was an anthropology professor) and it sounds like they want to do some kind of memorial thing for him there, and perhaps endow a lecture series or library collection in his name.
It's been weird. I'm still processing it all.
/blahgity blahg blahg
I was terrified I wouldn't make it, since I couldn't get there until about 11 p.m., but thankfully I was there in time, walked in around 11:30 p.m.
He was a bit restless and was fighting off an oxygen mask. When I got there, and they removed the mask and just replaced it with the little tube thingys that go in the nostrils, he calmed right down. I *think* he knew I was there -- I know he made eye contact and would periodically look over at me -- but he wasn't speaking by then and I couldn't tell for sure.
I sat and held his hand (it was very cold) and talked to him periodically. Now and then he'd look over at me and I'd just nod and smile and say, "Yes, I'm here... try to rest, OK?" and he'd lay back and close his eyes. After an hour or so he didn't look over any more. He was breathing quietly; sometimes there'd be a long pause between breaths and it would freak me out, but then another would come.
Around 2 a.m. I was starting to fall asleep and I thought I would just close my eyes for a second. Not 20 minutes later, I was awakened by the nurse and the aide coming into the room and saying his heart had stopped (they had telemetry monitors) and he wasn't breathing. Sure enough, he was gone.
I called my cousin and she got there shortly, and we sat and waited for... whoever, the funeral home guy. It was sad, but it was a relief not to have all those machines attached to Dad pinging away. He really did look peaceful.
Anyway, some chaplain guy comes in around 4:30 a.m. I still don't know if he was affiliated with the hospital or the funeral home... He talks with us a bit, says a nice prayer (my cousin is EXTREEEEMELY Catholic and I knew that even though Dad wasn't religious it would be comforting to her).
THEN... he starts rambling about some song that is supposedly played a lot at funerals there, written by "a native son... Kris Kristofferson!" (Brownsville, TX). I started thinking "oh dear God, please don't sing... please don't sing..." and then he whips something out of his pocket. I thought it was an iPod and he was going to just play a Kris Kristofferson song, which was bad enough. But it was a HARMONICA. He proceeds to play the hell out of some extremely maudlin wheezy tune (presumably a Kris Kristofferson song?) and I was torn between extreme horror and an urge to burst out laughing.
THEN he sang. It was horrific. I was petrified -- my cousin was clearly moved, and I didn't want to spoil the moment for her, but all I could think was that if my dad could see and hear this guy he would sit right up and order this lunatic out of the room (probably with a generous helping of English AND Spanish cursing), and that made me want to laugh even more. I was nearly choking, trying not to just burst out guffawing.
Finally he and his assistant and, I think, the nurse, gave us a few minutes alone with Dad's body, then had us leave the room and they did whatever it is they do to put the body on the funeral home gurney and cover it up with the fancy funeral home cloth/rug/whatever.
THEN we follow him to the staff elevator (because as he said, "We can't walk the dead bodies out of the front door of the hospital". No shit...?) and his assistant punches the elevator button. The door opens almost immediately, but Chaplain Dude stands there and proceeds to tell us a long, long story about how we should wash our hands, faces and lips after saying our final goodbyes, because bodies start to exude toxins as soon as the heart stops beating, and apparently this one lady in a family he helped take care of got deathly ill from kissing her husband goodbye before they took him to the funeral home.
AND THE WHOLE TIME HE'S TELLING US THIS HE'S LEANING ON MY DAD. I mean, he has one elbow lightly resting on Dad's chest, like it's a counter or something. I finally just interrupted him and said, "Dude -- could you please not lean on my father?" He immediately straightened up and without missing a beat continued his story.
By this time, I'd been up for close to 24 hours, so it was just getting crazier. We left the hospital, and I followed my cousin back to her house, and I was laughing like a fool all the way there (luckily I was alone in my rented PT Cruiser -- another touch of the surreal...).
Anyway, it was weird the next day or so, because I kept thinking "We have to get back to the hospital and check on Dad... oh, wait".
I did have a nice time visiting my cousins there. We spent time together, ate like pigs, and talked about Dad and told all kinds of stories. I ate nothing but Mexican food -- chorizo and beans and fresh flour tortillas for breakfast, enchiladas, homemade tamales, barbacoa, botanas... you name it.
I do not want to eat Mexican food in any way, shape or form again for at least a month, by the way.
Per his request, Dad was cremated and we are going to plan a memorial service down there sometime in the spring. Also, I was contacted tonight by someone at Michigan State University (where Dad was an anthropology professor) and it sounds like they want to do some kind of memorial thing for him there, and perhaps endow a lecture series or library collection in his name.
It's been weird. I'm still processing it all.
/blahgity blahg blahg
8.11.2010
I found out yesterday that a kid Emily used to play with, from the old Mothers & More playgroup, drowned last Tuesday. He was at a day camp program and managed to wander away from the locker room. He ended up at the bottom of the pool at the day camp. I guess it was only 5 minutes or so from the time they noticed he was missing until they found him in the pool, and they got him to the hospital and made numerous attempts to revive him, but he didn't survive.
He was 7 (6 months younger than Emily). He has a 6yo younger sister, and then another brother and sister, 2yo twins.
I have been in contact with his mother -- we weren't super close but she lives nearby and we run into each other all over the place with the kids. She had actually remembered hearing about Hannah's death -- the Mothers & More national organization put it on their website, and we got cards from chapters all over the country, including Youngstown, which was partly why I joined it when I got here.
I so wish we didn't have this in common.
This brings back so much of what we felt when we lost Hannah. I know right now they're in shock, plus they have the other children (especially 2yo twins) that keep them going in spite of everything. When the flurry of visitors and funeral stuff and shock wears off -- about a month or so, in my experience -- I'll check in with her periodically.
This really sucks.
He was 7 (6 months younger than Emily). He has a 6yo younger sister, and then another brother and sister, 2yo twins.
I have been in contact with his mother -- we weren't super close but she lives nearby and we run into each other all over the place with the kids. She had actually remembered hearing about Hannah's death -- the Mothers & More national organization put it on their website, and we got cards from chapters all over the country, including Youngstown, which was partly why I joined it when I got here.
I so wish we didn't have this in common.
This brings back so much of what we felt when we lost Hannah. I know right now they're in shock, plus they have the other children (especially 2yo twins) that keep them going in spite of everything. When the flurry of visitors and funeral stuff and shock wears off -- about a month or so, in my experience -- I'll check in with her periodically.
This really sucks.
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