Month: February 2007

Fun Week Incoming

By / February 11, 2007 / 12 Comments

My sister Nancy has arrived at my house. I haven’t seen her in a couple of years, ever since that German fellow she married hauled her off home to his country and kept her there. This time she brought him back with her, so I get to visit with Nancy, her husband, and their two kids. It has already been lots of fun. They brought with them a pile of Baby Einstein dvds. Since Gleek has spent their entire visit languishing on the couch with a fever, they pulled out the dvds to share. Gleek loves them. The other kids like them too. In fact only an hour ago Link requested to watch one, only he couldn’t remember quite what it was called, so he asked to watch “those baby idiot movies.” I think that the entire series has been permanently renamed for our family.

Life The Universe and Everything the Sci Fi/ Fantasy symposium at BYU is this week. Both Howard and Nancy are going to be on panels there. It runs Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. I won’t be going at all on Thursday. I hope to be able to hit a few panels on Friday. I plan to go for the whole day on Saturday. Mostly I’m going for the people that I’ll get to talk to. I may also get to speak up in a couple of the panels that Howard is on. I thought about trying to get on panels this year, but nothing grabbed my eye and I wasn’t sure how easy it would be for me to break free of child care. This way I get to just go and kibitz on the panels of my friends and relatives.

The other thing that is really exciting this week, is that Howard and I get to go out to dinner with John Ringo. Yes, that John Ringo, the Baen author. Howard and John were at a convention together years ago and they really hit it off. John reads Schlock. We read John’s books. John even wrote the intro for the first Schlock book. This will be the first chance that I’ve had to meet him. I’m looking forward to it.

So this next week looks to be a good one as long as we can keep anyone else from catching the bug that has laid Gleek flat for two days.

Gleek’s notes

By / February 9, 2007 / 14 Comments

For the second time this week I arrived to pick up Gleek at Kindergarten only to be told that she was down in the office. On Wednesday she ran away from her teacher and threw a kicking/screaming tantrum when she was caught. Today she threw crayons at a classmate and hit the pregnant mom helper in the stomach. In both cases, Gleek had a pretty good day at school right until the end of class when she lost it over a minor issue. I had a longish talk with her teacher in which I was informed that compared to half of the afternoon kindergarten class, Gleek is a complete angel. Apparently Gleek isn’t even the worst in her class. Mostly she has trouble getting started on an assignment and then switching tasks when the class does.

I know that Gleek is an angel. I watch her as she tries so hard to control herself. When she can’t keep herself under control, she relies on me to rein her back in. I love her dearly, which is why I’m willing to keep working with her. My biggest school fear for her is that the people at school will get tired of dealing with her. So far that hasn’t happened. It concerns me to hear that there are so many kids with behavioral issues in the same grade as she is. I worry that she’ll end up in a class full of outrageous behavioral problems and won’t get the attention she needs. But all of those concerns are borrowing trouble. For today I needed to figure out how to address the current behavior and make sure that she knows it is unacceptable to treat teachers, helpers, and classmates this way.

Howard gave her a very serious talking-to, complete with Daddy Scowl. She didn’t like that. Then I sat down and required her to write “I’m sorry” notes to all the people affected by her behavior. This time around I let her dictate the notes and sign them, but I think in the future I’ll require her to do the writing as well. Hopefully creating the notes and delivering the notes will help her have a clearer picture of just how many people she affects when she misbehaves. And if knowing that she’ll have to write sorry notes helps her curb her own behavior, then so much the better.

Absorption

By / February 8, 2007 / 6 Comments

Last year I wrote a series of entries detailing my experiences with radiation therapy. I likened the process to emptying a box. It fit, because once the therapy was over, I packed it all away so I didn’t have to think about it. Unfortunately the box sat in the back of my brain and leaked. The process of writing the entries let me empty the box. Once the box was completely empty I felt better and I moved on. There was some evidence that the box emptying worked, but I wondered whether the emptying of the box would be effective in helping quell my typical January depression. I still can’t call January a happy month, but this year it definitely had a more hopeful flavor to it. I planned ahead and kept busy rather than wallowing.

I haven’t reread those radiation entries. I have been afraid to. I put the entries behind me in much the same way that I put the radiation experience behind me. There comes a time to just move on. However, this time I understood that there would also come a time to revisit. I waited until after January was over. I waited for sunny weather. Then today the smell of Howard’s protein drink triggered some old emotions and I decided to just get it over with. I read them all.

I wrote many of those entries with tears rolling down my face. It was a huge purging of emotion. I remember feeling so strongly about what I wrote. All I found today were echoes. My eyes watered a couple of times, but not much. I was very surprised to read about some specific details. I read about them as if I were reading something that someone else wrote. It is as if, having written the experience down, my brain decided the memories were no longer pertinent and dumped them. Seven years after radiation I could still recall the puzzles I put together in the lobby. I could still recall some individual pieces and puzzle sections vividly. Today my memory of those puzzles is vague at best. How can I remember something vividly for seven years and then forget it a year later? I emptied the memory of emotion and it just flitters away.

I’m so glad that I wrote all of these radiation experiences in such detail. At the time the detail was necessary to the emotional purge. For the future the detail will be necessary because I’m going to forget. I’m going to forget. It was the worst, hardest thing I’ve ever been through and I’ve gotten over it. It no longer haunts me. All that are left are random hidden pockets, like the smell this morning.

I haven’t put it behind me. I’m beyond putting it behind me. Things behind me are like a shadow that follows me everywhere. I’ve done better than putting it behind me. I’ve absorbed it. My radiation experiences are no longer something to bury, or run from, or leave behind, they are just one of the many pieces of experience which make up the whole of me.

I’ve decided to open up my “radiation saga” beyond just those on my friends list. Feel free to read if you so wish, but be warned that it is a record of old pain not happy reading. The Radiation Saga

That Smell

By / February 8, 2007 / 10 Comments

Howard is currently on the Atkins diet because he’s determined to lose weight. I’m not joining him in full-on Atkins, but I’m reducing refined sugars and simple carbohydrates. I’m doing it in part to keep Howard company, but even more because I’m tired of the 10 extra pounds I’ve put on since Patches was born. Dieting together is not something Howard and I have ever done before. It has been kind of fun to talk food and try out some of the low carb options that are available these days.

One of the things that Howard occasionally eats are the low-carb Atkins shakes. This morning he offered me a taste. I brought the open can near my face and then the smell hit me. It is amazing how powerful a trigger smell can be. I instantly handed the can back and tried to quell the flood of unleashed emotion. Eight years ago this month I was in the midst of radiation therapy for a (thankfully benign) tumor under my chin. The radiation made my throat sore. Not just sore, but actively painful whenever I swallowed. Imagine a really bad sunburn on the inside of your throat. Eating was a painful chore and so we used protein shakes to attempt to get enough calories into me to keep me alive. I now loathe protein shakes. I will probably always loathe protein shakes. The smell of that Atkins shake went straight to the back of my brain and unearthed a swell of depression and hopelessness and exhaustion. I had to fight back both nausea and tears.

Fortunately mornings are busy and I was able to dive into the tasks and reassert normality. But when I threw something into the trash and saw the can in there I loathed the can with a vehemence which surprised me. The cans in the box on the shelf weren’t as bad, but I didn’t like them either. Prior to smelling one, the cans had no more emotional content for me than the jars of spices they stand next to. I need to get over being angry at cans because it is silly and because Howard finds the drinks useful. But I’m not going to smell one again.

Smell triggers are sneaky and powerful. The smell of a clean baby makes me feel happy and glowy like I did when I snuggled my own children as babies. The smell of pine candles feels Christmasy. There are myriad other smells which trigger emotions both happy and sad. Some smells even trigger specific memories or images. Sometimes the smell triggers one emotion, but the context makes us feel differently. If a person who desperately wanted another baby smelled clean baby, the smell would trigger happy emotions, but then remind the person she can’t have that. She would end up depressed or crying because of a happy smell. If the smell trigger is out of place, like pine scented candle outdoors in summer, it creates a dissonance that I have to pay attention to in order to resolve. I think this might be one reason that the protein shake smell had such a strong effect on me. I was standing right there in the kitchen where I used to be when I drank protein shakes. The location was right as well as the smell.

I know that it is possible to defuse smell triggers. Another smell associated with the actual therapy itself was the sharp smell of ozone. I discovered that some brands of plastic wrap have this same smell. For a long time, a whiff of that smell would make me nauseous. But I’ve had enough contact with plastic wrap since then that the smell no longer affects me. Perhaps I should try to defuse the smell of protein drinks. On the other hand, I couldn’t avoid plastic wrap easily. Protein drinks are much more rare and expensive. Avoiding protein drinks is easier and less expensive than defusing the smell. The other, other hand (not the gripping hand, because it isn’t stronger) is that I hate having that smell as an emotional landmine ready to ambush me. More thought is required.

New Assignment

By / February 7, 2007 / 14 Comments

The LDS (Mormon) church to which I belong does not employ clergy. All of the leadership positions in the congregation and auxiliaries are filled by volunteers. Because people tend not to jump up and down shouting “pick me” for the hard jobs, the volunteers are usually called in and asked to take on the responsibilities rather than waiting for someone to step forward of themselves. There is mild social pressure to say yes to one of these assignments, but there are no consequences for rejecting an assignment.

Two weeks ago I was asked to become the den leader for our congregation’s Webelos boy scout den. This is a group of boys aged 10. Right now there are only three, but by September when Link turns 10 there will be eight boys. I said yes to the assignment because I could see that this would be a good thing for me and for Link. I will get to spend time with my boy doing cool stuff. I’ll get to know most of the boys in our neighborhood who are his age. I’ll have a chance to build relationships with all of these boys. In addition, I believe that I am blessed every time I stretch myself to undertake one of these church assignments. The volunteer work enriches my life in ways that I don’t always expect. Saying yes was obviously the right answer. So I said yes even though I didn’t want the assignment.

It took me more than a week to sort out why logic and emotion were speaking to me so differently about this particular assignment. Everything logical told me it was good. I acted on the logic and took steps to acquire my materials and get oriented by the former leader. But in the back of my brain, emotion was jumping up and down while stamping her feet and shouting “I don’t wanna!”

At first I thought my emotional defiance was because of problems I have with the Boy Scouts of America, like their insistence on uniforms. I don’t mind if other people want to wear uniforms, but I hate to wear them myself. I’m going to have to wear an ugly shirt with patches all over it. This does not excite me. I also worried about the focus on earning badges. I’ve seen parents turn themselves inside out to make sure that their boy earns his badges. But the badges are supposed to represent an achievement by the boy, not piles of work done by the parents. Some of these concerns sorted themselves out as I thought about them. I realized that the badges provide a framework to motivate parents to spend time with their boys. So long as the parents don’t turn earning badges into a stress-fest, the boy will gain from the time and attention. The core point of boy scouts is for responsible adults to spend time with young boys, imparting values and building relationships. Everything else is window dressing. As a den leader I’ll have power to make sure that the emphasis is in the right place. It was another logical reason to accept the assignment, but didn’t solve the emotional issues.

I finally realized that the core of my emotional defiance was that in order to do “Webelos Den Leader” really right, I’m going to have to commit to 3-5 hours per week of work and I’m going to have to care about these boys. Both my time and my emotional resources are limited. I did not want to give up any of them. Taking the Den Leader position probably means less writing and a messier house, because I can’t afford to cut back on the business stuff and I won’t short change my kids.

My emotional turn-around came when I thought about how often I depend on the help of others to meet my kids’ needs. I depend on school teachers, and youth leaders, and Sunday school teachers, and friends’ parents to help me teach my kids the lessons they need; to keep them safe. For the safety net to be strong, the dependence can not flow all one way. The unspoken contract is that I must be willing to extend the same help and nurturing to the children of others. How many of the mothers of these boys are sitting at home praying that their boy gets a really good Den Leader? How can I not answer that prayer when the opportunity is handed to me? And so I will dive into this assignment. I will wear the ugly shirt. I will help boys and parents earn badges. I will spend the 3-5 hours per week. And I will grow to love these boys. I will do it all in the hope that somehow something I do will make a difference for one of them; that something I teach will stay with them and answer a future need. I will do it because I hope that others are out there doing the same thing for my kids when they are away from me.

Rubber band

By / February 6, 2007 / 8 Comments

…And tonight I didn’t get the parenting right. I used up all of my energy getting stuff done in the first half of the day. Then I recharged a little in the afternoon. Then came dinner and homework and toy pick up. Then I was all used up. I wanted nothing more than all my kids to just leave me alone so I could vegetate in front of a show. But Gleek was afraid of monsters under the bed and Link was hungry and Patches always fights bedtime. And it got to be 10 pm and none of them were asleep yet. They may still be awake, but at least they’re in beds behind closed doors and not needing things from me.

“Snapped” is such a good description of the exerience. I’m like a rubberband. I stretch to manage all the things that need done. Then something new gets added and I think “well it’s only a little bit more. I can do it.” so I stretch just a little bit more. Sometimes I’m aware that I’m near my limit, sometimes I’m not. But I’m always stingingly aware when I’ve gone beyond the limit and I’m over reacting to minor issues. Some days I have more stretch than others.

The good news is that a good night’s rest restores my elasticity.

Getting through

By / February 6, 2007 / 15 Comments

I intended to post yesterday. I even had a space of time allotted to sitting at the computer composing an entry. Scheduling the time is critical to any task I want to get done because I’m scheduled down to the minute for most of this week. But then Link wanted to do a whittling project with the pocket knife he got for Christmas. This required my help in finding the knife. The Christmas knife is still awol, but I did find a different knife he could use. Then we reviewed the cub scout rules for safe knife usage. I turned him loose on a bar of soap. All was well for 20 minutes. Then he cut himself. Who would have known so much trauma would come to pass from such a small injury. As we treated the small nick, Link lamented the existence of the whittling section of the cub scout book, and the existence of whittling, and the existence of knives. Later in the evening he tried to tell me he couldn’t read a book like I’d asked, because he might get a paper cut. A mixture of sympathy and firmness got us through.

Then Kiki had a major (for her) emotional event which required my full attention for 90 minutes and Howard’s full attention for 20 minutes. This time what got us through was faith, prayer, and scriptures.

In both cases the cause of the emotional upset seemed so small to me. Too small to be worth all the uproar. But to Link and Kiki, their various emotions were very real and very huge. If I laugh at the emotions or dismiss them, then my children will stop sharing with me. So I sit for 10 minutes helping Link think through why the risk of getting a paper cut might be worth it to be able to enjoy reading. And I sit for an hour carefully helping Kiki along a path to where she has found her own solution; the same solution I could have handed her within 5 minutes. But if I handed her the solution, she would likely reject it and declare that I just don’t understand.

At the end of it all I had all of the kids in bed and a sense that I’d done parenting really right. For once, I lived up to my own expectations. I was glad, and totally drained of anything resembling energy. So, no entry yesterday because I did something more important instead.

What to say

By / February 4, 2007 / 12 Comments

In this pas couple of weeks I have had one friend whose father died abruptly, another friend whose father was diagnosed with incurable cancer and sent home to die, a third friend’s father was hospitalized for unexplained internal bleeding. The good news is that my own father is just fine, although I should probably call him.

I feel sympathy and sorrow for the pain of these three friends. I just wish I knew what to say. They are going through something profound with which I have limited direct experience. In the face of so much pain, I fear to say the wrong thing and thus inflict more pain. So I end up saying nothing, which is certainly the wrong choice. My silence may seem to be indifference or abandonment.

Howard has been through this. Both of his parents died just as he was entering adulthood. I’ve listened to him council people about grief. He says that when faced with death, you first have to learn how to breathe even though you loved one does not. Then bit by bit you learn how to eat, sleep, laugh, and live even though the person is gone. Howard speaks with the voice of experience. He knows what to say to the grief stricken because he has been there. I don’t want to be there, but I wish I knew what to say.

In person I can express sympathy through a look or a touch. But two of these friends are online friends. It is harder to convey a hug through electronic media. Electronic communication requires words. Words are powerful. I fear to use the wrong ones.

Experiment Week #6

By / February 4, 2007 / 2 Comments

Experiment Week #6 Experiment Week #6
Both the blue plant and the magenta plant are preparing to bloom. By the end of this week I’ll know if the food color has at all affected the bloom color. It hasn’t affected the leaf color to any noticable degree. It has affected plant size. The magenta plant is significantly shorter than the blue plant. Both the colored plants are less than one third of the size of the control plant. In fact the control plant got so lanky that I had to trim leaves off to prevent them from knocking over the little jar. If I intended to save the bulb this would be a bad idea because it needs the leaves to gather energy for the next year. But paperwhites are notoriously difficult to get to flower a second time, so I’ve decided that I’m not going to try. If I grow paperwhites again next year I’ll buy new bulbs. Maybe next time I’ll get my hands on some methelyne blue and try that instead of food coloring.

Parties and lines

By / February 3, 2007 / 2 Comments

Gleek’s birthday was on Wednesday, but she assured me that she can’t actually be six until she has a cake. Fortunately we’d schedule a birthday party with cake for today, so now she is actually six. Running a child’s birthday party with six guests turned out to be not that hard. When I was first parenting such a task was daunting. But I ran a home preschool during last year, so whipping together a couple of hours of activities wasn’t too bad. Also, Looney Tunes are always a big hit with kids. Yay for Sylvester and Tweety.

Even though actually running the party wasn’t all that hard, I found myself wiped out afterwards. This could be because last Saturday morning I forgot to take my thryoid medication and the delayed reaction hit me today. It could also be that I’m trying to eat healthy and my body is complaining about the lack of refined sugars. It could also be that I spent all morning moving really fast to get the house all cleaned up for the party. Whatever the reason I’ve gotten nothing done since the party ended. Unless you count watching Back to the Future on my portable DVD player as a productive activity. Back to the Future is still a really fun movie, but I can’t count it as productive.

This of course brings up the ever reoccuring issue of downtime. I’m a mother who runs a small business. I always have a huge list of things to do. If I try to get everything done before I relax, I will never relax or sleep. At least not until I go completely crazy and stop caring about anything. So there has to be a line. I have to find a place on the never ending to-do list to draw a line and say “that’s enough for today.” Theoretically it is easy. I just decide in the morning which things I have to accomplish before I can relax. Only those morning assignments never include the unexpected tantrum that sucks 30 minutes and piles of energy right out of the day. They also never include changing soiled pants, conflict resolution between two kids, the hour long phone call with the insurance company to discover why the hospital bill wasn’t paid, and all the other oodles of things which just pop into existence at a moment’s notice. There are some days where I am busy with important things all day long and yet I’ve not crossed of a single thing on my to-do list.

I think the line was in a good place today. There are some days that I relax before I should. There are others when I don’t get to relax at all. I guess it all evens out. At least today my house is clean, my Gleek had a good birthday party, and the Netflix DVDs already arrived so we have fun shows to watch after the kids are abed.