His room? Is painted.

There are parts of the trim that hadn't been dusted, painted, washed, or even looked at closely since we moved in over 8 years ago. Well, specifically that long piece of trim about 1 foot from the ceiling, that serves some decorative purpose that remains a mystery to both CD and me.

This has been the master bedroom for a few years, even though it is technically the smaller of the two main bedrooms. We can't remember why we switched, so please don't ask.

Although we chose an organic, no-VOC paint for the walls - the trim was done in regular give-you-a-massive headache white latex enamel. The truth is, we have about 3 cans of the stuff in the basement. Bought on sale at some point back when we didn't care if we polluted the environment or killed Mother Earth. You know, last year?

So now, I have a massive headache forming. Time for some Alleve and a stiff drink. And to bask in the glow of being almost there.

Bear is getting a bookcase/desk combo from Ikea. We have to pick it up this week, and then put it together. It's funny, I showed him some other pieces he could have if we saved for a while but he really loves this set. There's a twin of it at his tae kwon do school and he totally digs the idea of having cubbies that he can use to sort his massive collections of Lego's and books and of, course, trophies.

By the end of this week, there should be a whole new room to show for all this. Before we put up the paintbrushes tonight, Bear gave me a big hug. I asked him what it was for and he said; "for knowing how much I really, really, wanted a big boy room."

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:11 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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Slow day, as we recover from colds. At one point, I was just hanging out online while Bear was watching a cartoon.

"Hey, the groundhog saw his shadow," I called to him.

"What does that mean again?"

"Six more weeks of winter."

"I say we find that groundhog and make him change his answer!"
more...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:37 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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1 Are you sure he's not 18?!

Posted by: Sharkey at February 03, 2009 04:43 AM (ZhNQO)

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I took 3 boys to lunch at the local diner today, and it freaked me out how much has changed.

Two years ago, a friend and I went to the same place with these boys and it was a riot: they needed to be entertained, refereed, cajoled. It was all: Power Rangers! Pokemon! Batman vs. Spiderman!!! Just ordering their food took top-tier negotiation skills: they all wanted to make sure that they all had the same foods but there was little they agreed on.

It was like herding cats.

That was then.

This time, they perused the menus casually. The waitress popped up with her pad.

"I'll have a half-slab of ribs," said the first.
"French toast, with bacon," said the second.
"Hamburger, medium-rare," said mine.

She came back with the drinks and each stopped to say thank you. we played a game of cards while we waited. It was clear as we went that they were each used to different "house rules", yet they shrugged it off and worked at staying in a good mood.

As we ate, they talked about the sports they were into.

"Basketball, we had a game this morning," said the first.
"I just started a new fencing class," said the second.
"I'm still doing karate," said mine.

Once we were done, they needled me for some of the penny candy by the register. I allowed each one two pieces, and no two got the same thing. The woman at the register asked them how they liked the meal.

"It was great," said the first. "Too much for me to eat!"
"It was fine," said the second. "I love the bacon."
"I liked it," said my son. "Hamburger was just right."

As we stepped out through the two sets of doors, pulling zippers up and jostling our way, the wind hit Bear's face in just a weird way, pushing his hair around and making him seem different for a second. In that flash, their three shadows seem to elongate onto the sidewalk.

Suddenly, it was three strong men looking back to make sure I was following. Their voice rough and deep as they called to me.

I blinked, the sun blinding me. My heart beating fast.

Their childhoods slipped by. It was the future. They chuckled as they hit the sidewalk, ribbing each other about how warm it seemed compared to recent subzero temperatures.

Strong, and confident, and good.

"Mommy!" Bear shouted, shrinking suddenly in a blur. His freckled cheeks turning pink in the air. "Come on, already!"

With a quick breath, they were kids again. Jogging to the car, shouting about the front seat. I reached out to hug my son, wanting to feel his body in my hands but he moved too quick.

And I realized: Already, gone. In so many ways.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:22 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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I did something this morning that I'm still conflicted about.

We're temporarily living with one car. By and large, this means no car for me and Bear because CD usually has to be at work on the south side of Chicago before 6AM. It's a 40-minute drive but because of the vagaries of the CTA, it's a 2.5+ hour commute on public transport.

However, this morning CD's destination turned out to be about a mile away. He needed a ride, though, because it's colder than a witch's uh whatever - in Idaho. And uphill both ways. more...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 07:27 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 I struggle with this too. Heard that in my state, 7 is the "legal" age kids can be left alone. I didn't let Caleb play outside by himself until he was 6, but let Eli at 4. It's hard to know.

Posted by: Cheryl at January 24, 2009 05:38 AM (UqkLF)

2 Huh - there's a legal age for being left alone? Not surprising when I think about it, I suppose, but not something that I'd ever have thought of on my own. I think I was probably in the range of 6-8 when I first spent time alone at home - I remember coming home on the bus and letting myself in if my mom was going to be out picking up my brother (he went to a different school, one which didn't have bus service.) It would be a hard thing to do the first time - I'm sure my first was something like this one, a time when the logistics pushed overwhelmingly in favor of staying home alone, and then subsequent times were a lot easier.

Posted by: Alice at January 25, 2009 04:15 AM (8Xs3q)

3 I was probably 8, I don't really remember the actual first time. When I was 10 I baby sat a 3 and 5 year old every afternoon from 3-6PM. In 1959 when I was 11 1/2 my parents left me home alone for the whole weekend when they went to Massachusetts for my brother's graduation. My mom told me that my aunt and grandmother didn't love me and found me a burden to be around. They didn't have any room for me to stay with them and if I went then she and my dad and two sisters - wouldn't be welcome. My younger brother was away at a residential school that family court had sent him to. They didn't want him there either. I later learned that my Aunt really didn't like me, a condition that existed from the time I was in Utero and that my grandmother did love me, very much, but that it was my Mom projecting her own feelings of not loving me. - MG

Posted by: Martha Giberson at January 26, 2009 03:25 AM (UR0q7)

4 My kids are now 12, almost 11 & 9, and I probably started letting them stay home for say, 45 min to an hour, about a year ago. I try not to do it often, but it's so nice to be able to run out without hauling all of them with me.

Posted by: Amanda at January 26, 2009 04:56 AM (tWSTF)

5 I cannot remember exactly the time but I was around 8. Take into account that I have an older sibling who was 10 at the time and for very short periods. I was way more mature than my brother, ha! I think I was the one babysitting him.

Posted by: Sol at January 27, 2009 10:54 AM (5lTHx)

6 When I was pregnant with my first son a good friend made it a point to tell me I was not allowed to leave my baby in the car while I went to the ATM or just ran into Starbucks. I'm glad she did... Some of these "common sense" parenting rules aren't obvious to some of us (me). That said, I definitely would have left an 8 year old alone asleep for 10 minutes, but I'm probably not the right one to consult on such matters.

Posted by: Shannon at January 31, 2009 04:58 PM (yFOwv)

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I have a bad case of ennui.

I'm fighting a cold, and have spent too many hours in front of the keyboard. The combination has made me sore, sneezy, and unwilling to battle the little crap life flings at me.

(Bear took full advantage of this and played Roller Coaster Tycoon for about 5 hours today - so much for practicing his handwriting every single school day of 2009, huh?)

Where's the path to getting out of this hole?

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:26 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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We wanted more than one. We were honest about it, right from the start. The both of us wanted a few children, bunched close together.

Maybe there's some who say a guy can't be 'baby hungry' but mine was - and is.

But he went ahead and picked the chick with the broken biology and, as the pastor says when he holds up the bag of treats for the Sunday Schoolers; "You get what you get."

We got one (1) copper-headed, funny, imaginative, affectionate, sturdy, and brilliant boy, complete with: dog, Transformers obsession, personality quirks, nudist tenancies, and overwhelming love of ketchup.

(The ketchup was extra, but nothing's too good for our kid!)

One? Is more than you can ever dream of - when you're dreaming. We often wondered, because an only child seemed such an unwanted situation, if we should reach out to the universe to find siblings for him.

But, as it turns out, one is its own treasure.

When I reached my limit some months back, frustrated because my son was with his friends (and their mother) and out of contact beyond the time he'd supposed to check in. But despite my repeated tries, she wasn't answering her mobile. I looked at CD and said, "right. order the damn phone."

I wasn't worried about precedent, or having to buy ones for other kids. My (almost) 8 year-old has a cell phone with a GPS locator because for $10/month technology means that his independence doesn't have to equal my stress.

Because it is just him, Bear has taken on a lot of responsibility. Since he was 6, he's been able to go out and start the car and the car heater for me on cold mornings.

The truth is, while he is very much the kid in the family dynamic, because it is just the three of us - we do tend to just hang out and enjoy each other's company without the big wall that both CD and I remember between us and our parents. We regularly decide activities together, by consensus. When something breaks, there's no dodging who did it - and we all pitch in to fix it. We expect honesty from each other, we also expect kindness.

On the one hand, I so sometimes ache to go through the baby years again. To discover a new person as they grow up. To be part of the cycle, again.

But most days, I realize how much I want this life, just as it is.

Oh, and I guess one more benefit? Is that we never, ever FORGET Bear. Not for a second. 'Cuz, you know... "One?!" "Here!"

Just saying.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:19 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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It's hard having a 7 year old smarter than me....

Driving home from camp.

Me: Hey there's a police officer on one of those things!

Him: One of those things?

Me: You know, 2 wheels and a stick?

Him: You mean a Segway, Mommy?

Me: Yeah. Thanks, kid. (Reach back my hand for a high-5, get a knuckle bump instead.)

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:34 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!!!!

I wrote an article to celebrate the Corporate Fathers I've known, over at Chicago Mom's Blog:

One day, in near frustration and exhaustion, I instant messaged my boss; “I think I need a demotion.”

Almost immediately my phone rang.

“What’s the problem?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I confided to the former Marine officer. “The responsibilities of this position against my family obligations…”

“What’s the problem?” he demanded, again.

“Uh, well, specifically today I’ve been called into that red team meeting with the VP for the same time I’m supposed to relieving my nanny.”

“Any wiggle room with the nanny?”

“Maybe a half an hour,” I sighed.

“Right, join the call and tell them...."

Read the rest at Chicago Moms Blog...

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:23 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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We got into a time machine this afternoon.

And with a press of a single button, entered my son's teen-aged years.

Riding home from Whole Foods, a rare treat we can no longer afford, CD was explaining that he was going to use some of the kitchen tiles to do a demonstrative speech for one of his classes (he goes to college in his spare time).

I sighed and complained that we just had enough tiles to finish the kitchen.

"I'll buy more," CD assured me. "Some are really cheap, hun."

"Why don't you do a demonstration on what it's like to take care of a sick person?" Bear asked from the back seat. "Like Mommy?"

I looked out the window and tried not to cry. Or scream.

"Uh, Mommy's a lot better these days," CD pointed out.

There was a bit of sarcasm to that first-grader's voice. He's sick of me being sick, and some days hates that it adds a burden to his life.

And Bear's anger is a long-fused thing. It comes out now, when the coast is clear.

And hour later, I realize that when we stopped at the other grocery store on the way home, I forgot to get the common things Bear will eat: ketchup & hamburger.

Over the past year as my disease has run rampant and our money struggles twisted us about, the tiny assortment of foods Bear will eat has shrunk.

Now it is to the point that he will not eat anything I make for him except hamburger. Everything on his diet is pre-made (like yogurt or cereal), restaurant-made (like Orange chicken from Panda Express) or from a box (like macaroni and cheese).

On Fridays, he takes his lunchbox off with him to his 1-day school. And brings it back empty except for anything I've prepared. Goldfish crackers and apple juice digested. Left are untouched sandwiches, uneaten fruit salads.

And tonight, I had no hamburger, and none of the other dinners from his tiny list.

"What's for supper?" he asked.

It was a pasta dish for CD and I. And for him? "A waffle," I said.

He swung around, furious. His voice getting louder and louder until he reached a crescendo: "...and all you have for ME is one lousy waffle?!"

He stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

And I collapsed at the table in tears.

CD didn't know what to do, and stood dumbfounded.

I went after our son and tried to explain the situation.

He threw a pillow at the wall and wouldn't look at me.

And I got so mad suddenly. It surprised me.

"You got a fruit smoothie at Whole Foods," I reminded him. "That cost as much as 2 pounds of hamburger. And picked out a loaf of bread and asked the lady at the counter to slice it! You have a bag of fresh carrots in the fridge and yogurt and applesauce and if that isn't enough, you can try the other meal I'm making tonight!"

Inside, my heart was a little broken. As I created flashcards for tomorrow's homeschool lesson, I stopped and asked my husband - "Should I put him in public school and go back to work full time? Does he need to be away from me and we need the money so much that it's time?"

My husband shrugged, still dumbfounded by the turn the evening had taken.

I know in my heart that Bear has come so far this year, so close to being a real reader and writer. So much more evolved and wonderful in new ways.

But on a night like tonight, man, all bets are off.

Later, we all warped back in time and he was 7 again and we had our peaceable dinner (Him: Mmmm, waffles!).

And as he slept, I crept to his side and perched on his bed. His freshly bathed self snoring and holding on to stuffed panda.

"I love you," I whispered, pushing the hair away from his face.

The fish in his tank raced in circles. I thought about the hole his absence will create some day, when he leaves us to go forge his own path in the world.

I thought about it a long time.

His still small hand grabbed mine, as he sensed I was there in his slumber.

My heart healed a bit. But still, I let go. I had to.

We can't hold on forever.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 06:29 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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Someone asked me if I am always so optimistic.

I decided the next time I started feeling hopeless, I would say so.

Except, I hate sounding whiny.

Well, screw it.

Welcome to this morning.

So far? It's not-optimistic day.

(Me and Bear, when he was 2)

I was looking at all these pictures over the years. The uncountable amount of times my hands have been leash, safety, comfort, steady as his mom.

Isn't it strange what we take for granted?

In about 20 minutes, Bear and I leave for my EMG appointment.

I don't like needles.

That aside, it's my second one of these so we're not exactly hurtling into the unknown. He's packing up his workbooks, and Leapster, and video iPod.

("Can you download me some new Scooby Doo episodes?" "No." "But...WHY?!" "Because I'm not paying 4 bucks for 22 minutes of 30-year-old cartoons." "Huh? Aren't they NEW?" "No, they were from my childhood." "Wow, that IS old!")

If you had told me a few years ago that there would come a time that I would hang up the corporate power suits, the modulated 'I'm in Charge' voice, and the dozens of Excel spreadsheets to be homeschooling my son in doctor's waiting rooms... I would have spurt latte out my nose.

Trade financial security for minimum payments and mounting medical debt? Are you HIGH?!?!

Heh.

It was a fanciful daydream, that featured cartoon bluebirds and sunbeams and laughter and not a dozen needles and remedial phonics.

Would I go back and do it differently?

On a day like today, I don't spend too long thinking about that.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

UPDATE

Well, we're back. Bear was an angel - he winced a bit when the needles went in me but otherwise remained calm and quiet and wrapped up in his Leapster.

The good news? Other than some borderline carpal tunnel, I have no (permanent) damage from the Raynaud's/Lupus.

Which isn't to say what hurts doesn't hurt when it hurts - 'cuz, yeah. It does.

BUT once the flare eases, my arms and hands are find and dandy thank you.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh.

Hate to say, but its true. I'm all glowing and optimistic again.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:53 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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Tomorrow afternoon I meet with the Neuro team and find out just how big a deal it is to have a 7-centimeter cyst in my brain.

Wow.

There's a sentence I never imagined writing.

Just saying.

Meanwhile, the house and its family are hanging in there. Last Saturday, Bear was the Gold-bringing Magi in the pageant. (He was AWESOME!)

We drove through 2 different Burger Kings to get 2 crowns. Glued 'em together, turned them inside out. Painted it shiny gold and bedazzled and bejeweled the ever living crap out of it.

Best. Pageant. Crown. Ever.

Boy just about glowed in his robes (Thanks again, C, for making them) and that crown. Spoke his line clearly and into the microphone: "It filled us with joy!"

I practically wept.

Since then, we've been making homemade ornaments (behold the wonder of the glue gun) and talking about our blessings and pretending tomorrow wasn't coming.

I have nothing smart, deep, sentimental, silly, sarcastic, or wise to say.

Perhaps I will, tomorrow.

(Part of a digital collage Bear and I made about our 'favorite things'

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:06 PM | Comments (7) | Add Comment
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1 I've been thinking of you all week--here's to the best of all possible visits tomorrow.

Posted by: coquette at December 10, 2007 01:56 PM (9J4EK)

2 Bless ya!!! Cool idea, Burger King crowns....

Posted by: Rhonda at December 10, 2007 02:29 PM (oDT3i)

3 I hope you'll let us know how it goes. Thinking of you . . .

Posted by: Sharkey at December 10, 2007 04:18 PM (cmHYN)

4 Good luck. Watching quietly and hoping for the best.

Posted by: Liz at December 10, 2007 10:31 PM (GKcrf)

5 How did everything go? Sending prayers and positive thoughts your way!

Posted by: Monica C. at December 11, 2007 10:30 AM (FMnfx)

6 Don't think I didn't notice how close you put yourself and Mike Holmes. Yay for doing a great job in the pageant! Very resourceful with the BK crowns. I hope the appointment went well. Thinking about you!

Posted by: Michele at December 12, 2007 04:15 AM (h1vml)

7 I can hardly believe this is happening. Thinking of you. Oh and I love the idea of the collage - will definitely use that as a weekend project for the girls at our place this holidays. xx

Posted by: Flikka at December 12, 2007 10:48 AM (puvdD)

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Last night, Bear woke up around midnight and decided to go out to the kitchen.

"Bear," I said, following him. "What you doing?"

"Um, sleeping, and then I got hungry," he told me.

He was wearing his footie pajamas, the ones with his name embroidered on them. Looking tousled and adorable and not quite....awake.

"Sweetie, are you awake or are you sleepwalking?" Hey, it seemed reasonable to ask.

"Mommy," he sighed, looking down at where his toes wriggled under the fleece. "Do sleeping people want cereal?"

"Depends, what kind of cereal?"

He thought a moment. "Hamburger?"

"Yes, sleeping people want Hamburger cereal. Awake people want Apple Jacks or Cheerios."

He nodded, sagely. "OK, I'm asleep. Will you carry me back to bed?" Reaching for me.

So I picked him up, his arms wrapped around my neck, the heavy warm weight of him in my hands. And put him back to bed. Pulled up his Knights and Armor comforter. Made sure his stuffed animals were all safely stacked in their places. And kissed him goodnight, again.

"Mommy," he murmured as I left the room.

"Yes, Bear?"

"If you were still a kid, then we could have a sleepover. And go to the park tomorrow."

When I was a kid, I had princess nightgowns the twirled around my knees when I danced. I had a curtains my mom made that matched my comforter. I had my special blankie that made me feel safe. And the boys I played with liked Cops and Robbers and always made me the Robber.

I turned to answer, not sure actually what to say, and saw that he'd already closed his eyes. His breathing steadier, and steadier.

And my heart broke with love.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 09:58 AM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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1 Lovely post. I know at any moment my daughter is going to turn into a tween and be embarrassed by me and need to figure out who she is by making sure she's not me. IN the meant time I find myself soaking up as many of those kinds on moments as I can.

Posted by: momtowahid at October 04, 2007 09:01 AM (msbri)

2 Gorgeous. Only one thing: nothing is stopping you from having a sleepover and going to the park. Make a fortress out of couch pillows in the living room, watch a cartoon together, eat poptarts, and have a slumber party by camping out in the living room. Bring your princess nightgown. Go on, you know you want to, my friend. Have fun at the park!

Posted by: rp at October 05, 2007 07:53 AM (op1yW)

3 Beautiful, baby. Just beautiful.

Posted by: Margi at October 06, 2007 03:55 PM (wpu3a)

4 What a great snippet of your life. I love the picture too! I've been looking through boxes and apparently my parents only have pictures of me after the unfortunate Dorothy Hamill haircut. My eldest child thinks I am ancient now and was never a child. The youngest is still thrilled when we do ring around the rosy until we can't stop the room from spinning. Hang on to the little bits ... they don't last forever.

Posted by: Michele at October 07, 2007 04:28 PM (h1vml)

5 When you have your sleepover, please invite me?

Posted by: Mamacita at October 07, 2007 05:29 PM (OiVHT)

6 I got tears on this one. I remember this days so well with my own children... I miss them.

Posted by: sue at October 10, 2007 10:38 AM (WbfZD)

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We have reached our limit - and it is 4 hours.

More than 4 hours and the world falls apart in screeches and stomped feet.

For more than a week now, we have been "With Kitchen". A world that is infinitely nicer than the alternative.

For more than a week now, I've kept up with the dishes and the laundry and managed to squeeze in at least 4 hours of homeschooling each day.

We rely mostly on Spectrum's "Little Critter" series for the basics of Reading, Writing, and Math.

And then I have an entire crate to fill in with each day: Pirate stories, tales from Scandinavia, puzzles, mazes, hidden pictures, logic problems, patterns (like tessellations or linear what's next ones), sign language, maps, dinosaurs, and astrology projects.

I have a couple of books that tell me what he should know at the end of the year, and my own education experience. And it comes together.

But spend more than 4 hours at that table, and he begins to boil over. So I break things up with Magnetix and walks and housework and errands and then, of course, he has Fridays at a school for homeschool kids where he does art and gym and science projects and he has the part of the talking tree in the drama club's upcoming original production.

And around here, there are no deliverables. The quotas need never be met. The return on investment is drawn with big markers and the project plan consists of the available groceries divided by possible dinner menus.

I read my last post, and it made it seem like life was gray, that the song was a dirge, and that I was wallowing in my own fear.

But that is only 15 minutes a day.

No, I won't lie and say the impression is wrong.

I'll just say, it isn't exactly... right.

The days are so much more that what I am afraid of, or angry about. They are also filled with my son's voice reading a story made up of words he learned from me. Of the puppy slinking off her rug closer and closer to us until she can lean herself against our legs.

And the blessed hum of the dishwasher.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 11:11 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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1 Beautiful.

Posted by: Janie at October 02, 2007 02:21 PM (UCqK5)

2 I get you completely. I start stressing out about money and getting a job or questioning if what we're doing is the right thing, and then Abby comes up and says "cuddle, Mommy?" and my heart melts. Things that could mean a sexual harassment lawsuit in the work place are what keep me home. You have to talk about the worries, though. There needs to be some sort of outlet, and sometimes your blog is the perfect place to do that. Yeah, I suck at responding to email too. I've been meaning to but never seem to have the time. Please forgive me!! LOL I'd do it now, but the husband should be (I hope) home soon and will want me to stop using his laptop. Greedy poop.

Posted by: Michele at October 03, 2007 12:26 PM (h1vml)

3 You did it again. Another beautiful post.

Posted by: sue at October 10, 2007 10:37 AM (WbfZD)

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There's been a lot of buzz the last few days about moms spilling how they parent high, drunk, tired. How how they escape from the tedium and endless need to be patient in ways that shock. And how they say that others do it...but just won't admit it.

Yeah, I get that.

But then again, no.

I don't.

I was a fairly uninhibited woman once upon a time. I slept in clean rumpled sheets as late as I wanted on Saturday mornings. I kissed the ones that made my insides churn with lust.

I went to Greece on a whim, and crashed my motorbike into a man's yard. Then stayed for dinner and a sly sunset, watching the stars over glasses of wine.

I have no regrets.

But the day I became a parent, I knew my place in the pecking order was irrevocably altered - at least for the next 18 years.

Maybe because I was in my mid-30's. Maybe because Bear was born after so many almost-babies died. Maybe because... I dunno. I don't know why.

I don't know why I always knew it would be hard. Sometimes even impossible. And that I would need to be sober, grounded, and sometimes even on my knees to get it done right.

Here's my secret, and I know I can't be the only one. Sometimes I hate being a mom. I hate it with a passion. It's a frigging nightmare at least once a day.

But I never hate him.

And I never hate me.

And I never wish it was easier.

Nothing worth it ever is.

I know that sounds like I am being willfully ignorant of the realities some parents face. Or judgmental of the choices other parents make. And neither of those things are true.

But sometimes I feel like people make it seem that parents who do their best, fall into bed with not enough sleep, and get up to do it again are somehow Pollyanna's who deserve to be mocked.

And it pisses me off.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 02:50 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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It was Bear getting sick, that forced me to evaluate my choices in life.

When his fever broke, I thought 'Oh, he's ok now.'

But he wasn't.

The next 18 months, Bear kept getting cold after cold and constant torturing headaches.

The triumvirate of his doctor, CD, and I suspected that he was showing some new and persistent allergies. We live in an old, crumbling house - so, mold, dust, dander, and sloth ("sloth's" a thing, right?) are our longtime companions.

But despite some relief from your usual allergy medications, Bear's quality of life (and our worry levels) was suffering. So guessing had to give way to knowing so we could treat him better.

Last March, we began making trips to Children's Memorial Hospital in downtown Chicago for tests.

Specialists, Neurologists, MRI, blood tests, name it. We held his hand and prayed in test after test, surrounded by other children and other parents all praying and holding too.

The initial results came back: mildly allergic to mold and dust and pollens. Doesn't have an alphabetic list of really scary things. Had a profound sinus infection of unknown cause, and probably what was triggering the sever pediatric headaches.

The family doctor and CD and I put a stop to the testing at that point. Hoping there wasn't something else hiding under the bed, we took on 7 medications for what we now knew to be real.

And Bear's quality of life has steadily improved.

Yesterday, we did a follow-up. He's covered in strange bugbites (which are probably the strange bugs that just invaded Chicago but in case not, meant a script to ward off Lyme Disease), he's got purple and orange bruises from sundry activities, and there was the 'opting out' comment from sports camp.

She talked to him about that and then told us that the fact that Bear had had a great time at camp and had asked to go back for all 3 sessions this summer was a very good sign.

That if he was overwhelmed during things like dodgeball ('Dodgeball's just nuts,' she laughed. 'I wouldn't play it either.') he was finding ways to cope with that and still enjoy the other things he enjoys - like obstacle course races and king of the hill.

She looked at the bruises, bites, up the nose, and between the toes.

Listen, Elizabeth, she said, suddenly serious.

I put my hand over my heart and waited to hear the worst.

I've never seen him so healthy. she said. He looks like a kid should at the end of a busy summer. Then she turned to him. Any complaints? She asked. How about the headaches? Fewer? More?

Bear shrugged. I don't get headaches anymore, he said.

Our eyes locked over his head. I hadn't even realized, but then I did.

She looked down at his chart: height and weight are normal, his sinuses are completely clear, headaches abated, even the rough toes that bled from an allergic reaction to his Crocs are healed up.

You've been taking great care of him, kiddo, she said to me with a smile after she'd congratulated him for being so healthy.

I nodded, slowly.

Bear took my hand and we scrambled down the hallway and out to the parking lot and into the van.

Mommy? he called from the backseat. I'm buckled in. Let's go.

I nodded, slowly.

Mommy? Are you crying?

I shook my head. No, I'm... fine. We're fine, sweetie.

I started the engine to prove the point.

But it was a lie.

I know that a single good exam doesn't mean it's all cupcakes and roses from now on. I do.

But..... uh, well, when it's the first good exam in almost 2 years. So damn it, yeah, maybe I did cry a little. And maybe I still am.

(If only all those other families at Children's could have this moment, too...)

Bear doing a crescent kick at June's Karate/TKD tournament.



Do you see a puppy in that bed? I don't see no puppy...

Waiting for his 'Ups' during a t-ball game.

About to win a really big honkin' monkey at HolidayWorld, Mo.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 04:22 AM | Comments (9) | Add Comment
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Bear has been attending a Sports Camp this summer a few days a week. To afford it, we killed a fatted calf and left burnt offerings before the Parks & Rec. department.

After a brief police investigation, we discovered that money was actually the preferred mode of payment.

Lessons learned.

Bear loved the camp so much that we signed him up for all 3 sessions.

I would stop in an watch him, on occasion. Racing around on the field or playing dodgeball in the rec center. Pick him up and he'd be dirty, sweaty, and smiling. He seems to be well liked by the campers and the counselors.

So I thought... 'This Is Good.'

Then, yesterday afternoon, I was picking him up when the head counselor walks up to us. The head counselor looks a little like a young Cal Ripken Jr., so I'll call him Cal.

"Uh, he sits out. A lot," Cal told me.

I looked over at Brandon, Bear's favorite counselor. Brandon wouldn't meet my eyes. Neither would Bear.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

Turns out, all summer Bear has been going off by himself during certain activities and playing in the dirt or sand.

"This has been going on all summer?"

"I probably should have told you, before," Cal said. I nodded.

It is the Last Week of camp. This information would have been helpful, you know, ANY TIME earlier.

"But it was really bad today," Cal told me.

Brandon nodded.

Bear looked at his feet.

If you add the ages of Brandon and Cal and my cat and some random strangers together, you still won't get legal drinking age. OK, maybe you will, but only if my cat buys.

Cal was clearly struggling, because Bear's behavior didn't fall into a black or white category. It had just crossed some invisible line the counselors had for participation.

After he'd made his announcement, Cal was clearly waiting for something from me, but I didn't know what.

"Bear, what's going on?" I asked softly.

He shrugged.

"He's an only child..." I said, as sort of a half-explanation.

Cal shook his head. "So am I."

That dropping sensation was in my gut, but Cal had nothing more to tell me and Brandon and Bear were looking at their respective shoes. Still.

Fascinating shoes.

I smiled and said "Well, we have to get going to a dentist's appointment, so..."

Bear has always excused himself and gone off when he's been overwhelmed at things like loud birthday parties and chaotic school functions (he did it once when I was being room mother during a Halloween party - when I tried to get him back with the group, he told me he had a headache and went to a quiet corner and colored.)

I don't know if we say 'Hey, you have to stay with your group/team even when you feel overwhelmed' OR if we say 'Well, Cal, he does that when the chaos gets to him. No big deal.'

Bear is doing very well in Karate and in swimming lessons. He's enjoyed the crazy loud insanity of the tournaments (although we do keep our presence to a minimum).

Then again, this has been a hard summer for Bear at home - the kitchen ripped out, the boxes piling up with our stuff in it, and CD and I more often than ever before pulling into private huddles to discuss things away from him.

But he also has this new puppy, Sara, who loves him to distraction.

I just don't know if I should be worried.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 01:15 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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1 Worry? Because he needs some downtime? I think it shows a good deal of self-awareness and maturity for him to realize that he's getting overwhelmed, and that he needs to recharge his batteries. Other kids would just keep going and then have a meltdown. He enjoys the camp--he just needs more breaks than they allow for. I remember feeling the same way. I craved social contact as a kid, but it also would exhaust me. Actually, that's still how I feel. I love conferences, but I always need my own hotel room (sans roommates) so that I can escape and decompress.

Posted by: coquette at August 07, 2007 03:34 AM (9J4EK)

2 Let me preface this by saying that I don't have kids so I am coming at this from a person looking back at her own childhood perspective. I was like that. I still am. Quiet, a few good friends rather than a big group (though in High School we were a big group). My 2 cents would be to talk to him, find out if something is wrong or if he just needs smaller doses of loud. (You said he's well liked and he really enjoys it, right?) Maybe he's just more introverted. When I was a kid/teenager I used to say my parents didn't want me to go places just so I wouldn't have to explain why i didn't want to. I'd say talk to him and help him understand that it's ok to want some alone time. But again, I have no kids and this is just my take. I can tell you more about this introvert thing if you email me. I've read up on it

Posted by: serena at August 07, 2007 04:44 AM (z5KLn)

3 My 3yr old does this too. He's not an only child. At his last birthday party, he and I watched 25 friends and family riding horses, ATVs, and playing on the new swing set while safely hunkered down in a fort. He just needs time alone to decompress when he's overwhelmed. I don't worry about it. The same impulse drives me into the tub with a good book after a long day at work or chasing my kids.

Posted by: Patty at August 07, 2007 06:24 AM (DZSwh)

4 As one who enjoys sports, and some mandatory alone time every day, I'd say that's just the way he may be. He may just be the kind of kid who likes mano-a-mano types of sports, vs. a big team. I really only loved soccer because all the guys on my team as a kid where already my friends. There could also have been some kids there that he didn't interact well with. As someone who was an 'only' for the first 6 years, and the father of an only child, I can say that not having siblings does give you a bit less tolerance for the actions of others, so he might just have learned he *can* walk away from these kids, since they're not siblings he *has* to get along with. Anyway, just my 2 cents. I do have to agree though, that since the fatted calf wasn't working, knowing *before* spending the rest of the cash might have been nice.... Your old Friend in the Rocky Mountains majesty... P.S - Next time you need one of those calves, I can get you a deal below retail :-). RDC

Posted by: R Dev at August 07, 2007 08:02 AM (URmcZ)

5 If it's enough to cause concern among people who spend their days with kids, perhaps you need to look into it. I don't know, Elizabeth. But I'd keep an eye on him.

Posted by: Tammy at August 07, 2007 08:44 AM (M9ZVz)

6 Not to be an alarmist, but yes. With your concerns at his school, his debate about which hand, some of your comments about his participation, he may have a non-verbal learning disability. I am a TEACHER and I missed this with my son until he was 17 and almost kicked out of school twice now. He is extremely bright verbally (functioning at college level and in the school's gifted program to boot) but just seemed to be slower at math (no problem) and making stupid decisions about many social things that got him into hot water (passed off as growing pains or stupid teenager). Though he had friends, he preferred to stay cocooned in his room during stressful times which I thought was only a coping mechanism. It wasn't until I pulled him out of public school (when he was on the verge of being placed in their alternative ed program), got the assistance of an educational consultant, and had him in an outward bound theraputic educational program that his testing revealed his learning problem. His verbal skills enabled him to cover up his problems. He was the biggest split between verbal and non-verbal that the psychologist had seen in her 20 year career and she (as well as all of us) were appalled that the school missed it. This non-verbal learning disability manifests itself in social interactions and problems interpreting vocal and facial social cues. Now, as a senior, his self esteem is crushed, his foolish decisions will lead to major legal repurcussions now that he is almost 18, and he is refusing to deal with both his disability and his unwise decisions. I am on the verge of losing my son forever, the bright articulate, child I love is going down a very dark corridor. I am attempting to get him into a theraputic boarding school so he can learn the skills that he is so missing and his educators either ignored or were ignorant of. Get into the educational websites for non-verbal learning disabilities to watch for some of the warning signs. As I stated, I may be an alarmist, but had I known all the signs I could have intervened before it was too late. Good luck!

Posted by: janeyek at August 08, 2007 03:32 AM (JuEE8)

7 We're going to therapy right now to teach our 8-year old how to do just that--walk away when you feel overwhelmed. You know, rather than go balistic and punch people. I don't know--sometimes you just can't win, eh? But I think there's a middle ground. Sounds like he's just the type of kid who knows when he needs some time away, and there's nothing wrong with that. And frankly, the Future PE Teachers of America might not be the best people to judge whether what he's doing is healthy/normal behavior for *him*. But if you feel in your gut that maybe he's pulling away more than usual because he's stressed out or overwhelmed by life in general rather than by the particular rigors of sports camp, it's probably a good idea to get some help finding ways to help him cope.

Posted by: PK at August 09, 2007 04:11 AM (gU899)

8 Once upon a time my parents spent a bunch of money having extensive batteries of educational tests done on all three of their children. Mom says it was one of the best things they ever did because it allowed her to understand her introverted child (me!). Maybe some more information would be helpful to you too.

Posted by: Angie at August 10, 2007 07:55 AM (JRxQD)

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The BlogHer conference was, essentially, 800 blogging women gathering. (Oh, and a handful of men.)

And despite the fact that most of us are mothers as well, each time a woman identified herself as a 'blogging mommy', she did so in a deprecating often somewhat apologetic voice.

This absolutely gobsmacks me.

My first website was for people who had taken one of my seminars and were looking for more resources.

Then, CD and I decided to marry. I found the Way Cool Weddings site and spent many, many mindless hours there.

Next thing you know, old Jed's a millionaire. And me? I had a personal website. Weddings, Weddings, all day every day. My dress! My flowers! The food!

But time marches on, and eventually? Yes. I became a 'Blogging Mommy'. Does this turn you off? Should I say I'm sorry?

What is the psychotic split in this country between people with children and people without? I PARENT. You were PARENTED. It is how we populate this country with sane, socially responsible, financially independent adults.

I have absolutely NO problem understanding that my child is not welcome nor safe everywhere. But on my blog and in my identity? He is celebrated.

Why would I apologize for that? Why would it make my writing and site somehow 'less serious' or interesting? Did I park my smart at the door as I went into labor?

You know, I spent 15 years in an industry of mostly men who liked to discuss processor speed, golf, gadgets, high-performance cars, off-shore resourcing, their kids, the always-impending death of Linux, and cities that were the most fun to attend for conferences.

I'm only interested in half those things.

Sure, I always could have moved on to another conversation if I was bored witless. But I usually stayed. Because these were my co-workers, my work community.

And if I brought up my son, his school, his activities, or some other 'Mommy' topic... they usually stayed, too. And not just because they had to.

They took their part in the conversation as fathers, as Americans interested in our Education system, as people.

It didn't make me seem less for bringing it up. Just as I didn't think less of them for obsessing on Tiger's putting. Conversations moved in and around and we all took our turn, you know, like real people do.

(You know, the way our parents taught us.)

This specific blog was started because I was trying to balance being a corporate muck in the IT industry with being an involved parent. And the two? Often seemed incompatible. And I'd SEEN my dad do it so I just kept thinking... what am I doing wrong?

Thousands of people responded, and that conversation has changed my life.

'Mommy Blogging' is the lowest form of the art, how the hell did all this happen?

'Mommy Bloggers'? Are an obscenely powerful force in retail marketing, politics, and in building the social folkways that help anchor society.

Why aren't we proud of that? Why aren't we flexing it?

Why isn't the fact that I am raising my child to play nice with all the other children just as vital and interesting as the fact that I know how to build out a data center?

But even if it isn't, I will STILL talk about it. Because it is a big piece of me. My truth. My view, from right here. It is what makes my voice strong. It is what makes my soul free.

Why should be abashed at that?

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So I was explaining to Bear about Martin Luther King while we waited in line at the water park.

Wait, let me back up.

Once upon a time, in our pre-Bear days, CD and I had volunteered for a business trip to Memphis. We drove down from dreary Chicago, into the hot sun.

In between visiting the ducks that waddle to the elevator at the Peabody Hotel and checking out the glorious kitsch that is Graceland, we visited the Lorraine Hotel (now a museum) - where Martin Luther King was killed.

We entered happy tourists; we left thoughtful and sad. I don't think, until we stood on the spot where he was shot, that either of us had ever really let the enormity of the Civil Rights Movement and Dr. King's impact on the world really inhabit either of our consciousnesses. I mean, I know from my perspective I always just took him for granted as an American icon.

But he wasn't an icon, he was a man. Flawed and real and that much more amazing to think of it. Dr. King was only 39 years old when he died. He changed the world in such a short life. 35 when he won the Nobel Peace Prize. The night before he was shot, he'd given the "I've been to the mountain top" speech, that so resonated with mortality, with wisdom, with perseverance, with righteousness. And, as so many have noted, with a prescient text that still reverberts today:

Well, I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn't matter with me now. Because I've been to the mountaintop. And I don't mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. Longevity has its place. But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land. And I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.

I told Bear that Dr. King had lived in a time when how you looked determined where you could live, and where you could go, even what jobs you could have. I told him that Dr. King had walked in the front row of a revolution, that he had said that all people are equal, are humans. That he'd said that all people are sisters and brothers and should share the planet in peace, with opportunity for all.

We were waiting in line at the indoor water park when we were finishing up our conversation. Bear looked around.

He asked: Like this water park?

I said: Yes, like they had rules who would be allowed here.

He looked at me, completely and utterly disbelieving.

It's true, I assured him. When Dr. King was born, they had rules and it was all about how you looked on the outside. And the police put Dr. King in jail 30 times for saying that people should stick together, and protect each other's rights, and never be judged for what they are on the outside.

Bear reached up an touched his bright copper hair tentatively. His expression thoughtful, he glanced at all the people standing in line - people of every kind of description.

And as Bear lost himself in thought, I realized that in the pantheon of my parenting decisions - introducing Bear to the concept of racism and the Civil Rights movement while in line at a water park may have not been the brightest parenting decision I had ever made.

But then Bear huffed out a breath and gave me that deeply wise 5-year-old nod and said: Mommy, that's the dumbest thing I ever heard.

And I knew he got it.

Happy 75th Birthday, Dr. King.

Posted by: Elizabeth at 12:49 PM | Comments (5) | Add Comment
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This has been a very dry summer but today we got some massive thunderhead action and finally, after hours of opressive humidity, we got rain.

I was running with Bear to the van after picking him up from camp, the sky opening up and the wind buffeting us. We held hands as we jogged to the parking lot and he shouted to me that the rain was good. That God and the Angels were watering the flowers.

"And the tomatoes," I said.

"Well," he yelled. "Maybe not the tomatoes. Just the flowers. And the grass."

"But not my tomatoes? Or the basil?"

"No! God and the Angels like chocolate!"

Go figure.

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I have been haunted by the Beslan tragedy.

I haven't been sleeping well. I have been hugging and snuggling my son within an inch of his life. I have set up a little workstation in my office and I've been having him "work" next to me when CD is doing other things. I don't care what that does to my job.

I am becoming even more overprotective, and I'm probably doing all sorts of un-good things to my son's psyche. It won't last; it's just for now. Until I find a way to buffer myself from this reality, and believe that it won't happen here. That it can't happen here.

I've done it before. Columbine. 9/11. I've seen the horrors before, and been afraid, and found a way to find again a sense of safety - real or imagined - in my little world.

Soon, I will once again blithely bring my son to the little schoolroom with the aquarium full of goldfish and the clock that tweets the hour and believe he is in a safe place.

But for now, I am haunted by adults who plan to harm children. I keep thinking about how it wasn't one screwed up homicidal sonofabitch that accidentally killed some kids. I keep thinking that these adults, these holy warriors, planned it. Looked through lens of a weapon and saw chubby cheeked little faces, and felt vindicated in squeezing the trigger.

I am nauseated with confusion. What cause is more important than the moral imperative as a species to nurture and protect the next generation to be better than ourselves?

How do you deny humanity and target the most innocent, most vulnerable amongst us?

I keep thinking, those kids. Those frightened kids.

Kids who believed in fairies and superheroes. Kids who believed that mommy kisses magically make hurts all better. Kids who believed that monsters could live under the bed. And then the monsters came into their classrooms and tortured them And the monsters looked like adults - the kind that checked their teeth at the dentist's office or coached their football teams.

Kids who died, after suffering hours of pain and fear and learning that their protectors - teachers and parents - were helpless to save them.

I have been haunted by Beslan.

How? When did killing children - deliberately, painfully - become a group activity aimed at any purpose? When did this become our world? I thought 9/11 was the depths of depravity, and now I no longer have the imagination to know how low we will go.

I have been haunted by Beslan.

I am afraid. more...

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