Stories from little worriers

When G was a baby, he was a smiley, extremely happy boy.  Not especially fearful of noises or dogs or anything unexpected.

When he turned three, though, he seemed to change a bit.  Perhaps it was that his imagination started to work differently than it had before or maybe his genetic predisposition to anxiety clicked to the on position.   He started waking every night, needing to check in with me for whatever reason, a need and/or habit that continues to this day.  He has been clinically diagnosed with mild anxiety.  He is what I would call a "scaredy cat" most of the time.  I can say this because I was as a kid and still am a scaredy cat.

One day last week he told me about what happened when he was on the playground.  His school is in the middle of a neighborhood, and he noticed a policeman talking to an old man at one of the houses.  G said an ambulance was there too.

He said he thought the old man was telling the police officer that there was a criminal who escaped from jail.  G said the criminal had a bracelet on his wrist with a chain attached to a ball.  He explained that the criminal broke into the old man's house and started taking all his precious treasures, like his wife's picture and jewels.

G continued saying that the criminal stood above the old man when he was sleeping and hit him in the neck with the ball hanging from his wrist.

I asked G if the old man he saw talking to the police officer was in a wheelchair or had bandages on his neck (which one would expect assuming someone would even survive being bashed in the upper body by a ball & chain).  I was trying to figure out what exactly about this conversation between the two men would lead G to such vivid and unpleasant imaginings.
He said no.  No bloody bandages.  I don't even think the old man had a cane.
He said he just thought this is what they were talking about.

When I continued asking gentle questions G said he almost cried when he saw the men talking because he doesn't want other people to get hurt.

Who knows the truth?  It could be that the police officer was an EMT who stopped in his ambulance to visit his grandpa who lives near the school.

It is at once so sweet to know that G is concerned for others and sad that a 6-year-old kid gets himself upset because his anxiety runs away from him.  

I'm a Seinfeld-ish person

The last television show I watched regularly was Seinfeld.  During the height of its popularity, I remember someone saying she didn't like the show because the characters were mean.

I never thought the characters were mean.  Odd....yes.  Pathetic......yes.  Hilarious.....yes.

Maybe I have a weird sense of what meanness is.  To me, meanness is intentionally trying to make someone else feel like a piece of crap, and I tend to think that most people are not mean.  People may make others feel like crap but for a whole range of other reasons, like distractedness, obtuseness or tiredness.  I try to be forgiving when someone seems mean because usually it has everything to do with something other than them intentionally trying to be an asshole to me.  Usually they are so obtuse or distracted or tired they don't even realize that they came across as mean.

I think sometimes people think I am mean, but I never intend to hurt someone else's feelings.  I always try to be civil and kind, but I also feel that I must be true to myself.  Maybe I read too much Walt Whitman in college?  I also try to be funny in my honesty because that generally tends to take the edge off.

If there is anything a person can trust in me it is that I am honest, but I am most honest about those things within the human character that no one likes to admit to.

Like the ALS Ice Challenge.  I hate it that people suffer with this disease.  I think if people dumping ice water on their heads raises money, then great!  I videotaped my neighbor and my daughter and didn't mind doing it.

But am I going to dump water on my own head?
Nope.
Even if I'm challenged?
Still nope.
Am I going to write a check?
Nope on that too.
Even though I videotaped my neighbor and my kid did I read with a little bit of glee this blog post and share it?
Well, yes.
Mostly because it was so stinkin' honest.

And I'm not saying any of this because I'm mean.
I am honestly saying that I think ALS is a terrible disease and I'm glad people dumping water on their heads is helping raise awareness and/or money, but as with Harry Potter and Fifty Shades of Grey and everything else that becomes wildly popular and has everyone and their grandma on the bandwagon for days and days and days that feel as long as years, I am none too interested.

And when I think about George, Elaine, Jerry and Kramer, I think what made them funny (and not mean) is that they would jump on a bandwagon even if they really didn't want to, especially George, just to try to win someone over or make a good impression, but it always, always fell apart.  

Preemptive empty-nest thoughts

No one would ever accuse me of procrastinating.  If I could get something done three days before I even realized it needed to be done, I would do it.

So it is no surprise that a full year before my youngest starts full-time school I am already reflecting on and missing what will have been my 11-and-half years as a stay-at-home mom.

This past weekend, in an effort to make more room for new photographs, I began going through our cache of photos on the computer, deleting blurred ones or those in which someone's eyes are closed.

My entire life of the last decade is in these pictures.

Every pregnancy, every birth.
Every MOMS Club event.
Every preschool party.
Photos of N and G playing in the rain with their umbrellas and boots before all the construction was done near our house that eliminated all those fine puddles.
Photos of family walks with the kids decked out in their ball caps and sunglasses.
Photos of visits to a local nature preserve, hiking through its trails, petting the horses, flying kites.
Photos of sledding and snowmen and visits with grandparents.
Photos of babies asleep in their high chairs.
Photos of first smiles, first crawls, first walks.
And I have been here for it all.
I have seen every milestone first-hand.
I have missed nothing.

I don't know if that matters to my children.  They probably take it for granted because I have been around for it all.  Having mom near is just no big thing.  It is the way it has always been.

But it matters to me.  It fills my heart to the tip of its brim to have all these wonderful memories, to have written down all the sweet sayings and milestones and moments in the journals I keep.  To have photos of so many random days, so many simple activities that weren't trips or outings or anything monumental.

It is the best thing I have ever, ever done and will ever, ever do.

The ear saga continues

I had blogged two weeks or so ago about M's surgery.  He did fine.

After a phone call and email from me, and then another email from D directly to his HR people, we discovered that the children's medical center, which we were told by the insurance company is not in network, is not only in-network, it is the 1st tier so we shouldn't be looking at an outrageous amount of money since we've met our family deductible.

Which is fortunate because it seems our health-care dollars are going to be used for awhile longer on this ear situation.

When I took M a week ago for his post-op appointment he still had infection in the ear.  The ENT said it wasn't much pus and mucus, but it wasn't dry and clear like he wanted it to be.  So he said to do the ear drops (different from the ones we've always used before following surgery) for 10 days instead of 7 and to pick up an oral antibiotic.  And to come back in two weeks for another check.  Dr. B said he was going to keep close tabs on M until this whole thing is good and gone.

Friday was the last night for drops, and his ear is still draining.  He has been on Bactrim since Monday.  Dr. B said if this doesn't do it then we'll have to do ear flushing with boric acid or some such thing, but at the point he told me there was still infection I went directly and without stopping at Go to collect by $200 into panic mode, similar to what I had been in during vacation in Florida.  Anticipating the worst....more surgeries, likelihood of deafness, potential for death.

You know, typical Carrie thinking.

I decided to go ahead and get M tested for allergies, which we'll do this coming Friday.  Four sets of ear tubes in four years, plus adenoid and tonsil removal, and he is STILL having problems.  As much as I hate the idea of allergy testing and shots, I'm also ready to see if that might get us out of our family groove of a surgery every.single.year.  

M is most certainly his mother's son when it comes to Eustachian tube disfunction.  As a kid, I had at least 3 sets of tubes, surgery to repair a perforated ear drum, and allergy shorts for ten years.  As an adult, I think I've been on shots now for almost 15 years.

Of course, while I'm wrangling with all this, stewing with mother worry, I visited with a mom friend who had moved to DC but is now back in my area.  Her toddler has had pneumonia about 3 times since December, had brain surgery, and is believed to have a mitochondrial disease that could put his life expectancy at around 15 years of age.  Oh, and her husband is stationed in a tiny corner of the world.

Hearing about her son's medical issues certainly gave me pause and made me feel thankful that M is as healthy as he is, but I had to stop myself when that voice started to suggest I shouldn't worry, that my problems aren't really real or significant or bad enough to let them bother me.  That I had no right to feel worried because on the continuum of problems mine are minor.

I had to shut the voice down.

I had to remind the voice that my children's illnesses, however minor, are still worrisome to me because they are my children.  That while M is dealing with this ear thing, I've also been dealing with G, his OT, therapist visits and sensory problems and paying for those.   That I have my own underlying anxiety issues that make every stress feel more stressful.  That I feel what I feel.  That other people having it worse doesn't negate my own experience.

That hearing about my friend's son doesn't mean I need to add guilt to my list of feelings of the moment.

That it can offer me perspective.

Terminal depression

There are a many things I hope my kids never get, like Ebola or your run-of-the-mill STD.
But the two things I really, really, REALLY hope they never get are childhood cancer and terminal depression.
Those two diseases are life-threatening, not always easily treatable, and likely to manifest themselves over and over during the course of a child's life.

There is a pretty good chance my kids will never get cancer (at least as children).
Or Ebola.
Or an STD.
But their chances of getting depression are pretty high, especially since their mother has a diagnosed mental health condition, and there have been other episodes of depression (or depressive tendencies) among family members.

I've never been clinically diagnosed with depression, although I suffered from it during my days of untreated anxiety.  Comorbidity is not uncommon when it comes to lots of diseases, including mental illness.  

It is not pleasant to remember those dark days, but I can't help but remember when I went to breakfast with friends when I was being treated, but the medication hadn't reached its full effectiveness yet.  I was more or less non-responsive.  Nothing was funny or enjoyable.  My usual jovial, chatty self wasn't there.  I felt like a shell of a person.

And unlike Robin Williams, I was not a good enough actor to convince people otherwise. 

Sanibel and surgery

It's funny.
I will talk freely about my antidepressant use and sex and all the realities of parenthood, things that most people generally feel is an invasion of their privacy.
What I feel is an invasion of privacy is for people to be able to track my comings and goings.
Which is why I've been quiet on here.
Also, my children don't give me a single moment's peace in the summer.

We were headed to Sanibel Island, FL at the end of July for a week's vacation, although anyone with young kids knows that what vacation really means is doing almost all the same tiring, monotonous parenting stuff except in a different location.

Still a different location can be refreshing in and of itself, except when your 4-year-old's ear starts draining the morning you are supposed to drive off.

The boys have had numerous sets of tubes so I know the drill.  After two treatments with Ciprodex, their ears have always stopped oozing.

Not this time.  M's ears drained to the extent that I was embarrassed to have the hotel staff see his sheets (big wads of cotton ball in his ear didn't hinder the flow of funk).

They drained so much I took him to a clinic in Florida to get checked out the Monday after we arrived.
They drained so much I called the ENT at home to schedule an appointment upon our return.
They drained so much I wondered whether and worried that he would require yet another surgery to deal with the infection.

Two days ago, on Tuesday, we saw the ENT.  Dr. Brown has always been very laid-back, of the conservative, "I'm ok with waiting and seeing" variety.
On Tuesday, he said, "We need to deal with this infection this week, like tomorrow."
When Dr. Brown, or any physician, is concerned enough to want surgery the following day, any one in her right mind (which I may or may not be) also gets concerned.

But this meant going to a facility that was not in network and where apparently no one knows the "price" of ear tube surgery.
So aside from my concern over my son and his ear and the risks of surgery (however slight), I also have the concern of him having surgery and not having any f*cking clue as to what it will cost us.  Health care is absolutely insane, but that is a post for another time.

So my "vacation," though fun and memorable, was not in the least even remotely relaxing.
And my return to real life was considerably more stressful than it might have been.
And this is the last week before school begins which means I have listened to my kids fight enough and, under the most perfect of circumstances, would have zero tolerance for listening to them anymore.

I found that on the trip I obsessed about the manatees that swam in a canal near our condo.  It gave me something else to focus on besides the ear, I suppose.

Loneliest not-alone time

A friend posted this on her FB wall and tagged me on it.
My favorite is the one by Linda:

Being home with kids all day

is just the loneliest never-alone thing. 

Like living in a cave 

filled with malfunctioning Teddy Ruxpins.

This sums up my summer break.

Whatever stage of parenting one is in, one thinks that is the hardest stage....until one gets to the next stage (or maybe two or three down the line) and realizes how much easier that earlier stage was.  

Sometimes the kids watch our home movies which they can stream on the television.  When I see N as a 5-year-old, G as a two-year-old and M as a newborn, I remember how hard it was, but I also remember the easy parts.  Like how easy it was to entertain a 5-year-old and 2-year-old.  Bubbles, sand box and swingset.  Boom!  The baby had all the entertainment he needed by watching his older siblings.  

There weren't endless argumentative conversations about video games or Cartoon Network shows.  They were so young they didn't have such intense, formulated opinions that they were willing to discuss endlessly in the car.  As mindless as Dora the Explorer songs were, I could turn those on, and the kids were happy as we drove hither and yon.

When N was at school, G and M were on the same nap schedule, so I often had 2 hours a day of quiet, something I sorely miss now that naps are a thing of the past.  The kids went to bed earlier than they do now.  I could distract them by just changing out a toy bin or two.

This summer I have really noticed how much of that easy distractibility N has lost.  One afternoon in June, I made squirtable chalk that the kids could use outside.  N did it once and was over it.  She then got out a lawn chair and read her American Girl magazine in the front yard while her brothers had me reload their squirt bottles until the sidewalk was completely covered.  She has about as much enthusiasm for squirtable chalk as I do.  She is definitely leaving childhood behind.

What I'm finding hard about parenting at this stage is that I am just on stand-by.  The kids are too young for me to leave them alone so I am restricted to the confines of the house (which I've never liked in all my years as a stay-at-home mom).  The kids aren't needy enough to have me hovering, but they are needy enough to interrupt me often whenever I try to get involved in something I want to do.  So I feel like I mostly wander the house a lot.  I piddle.  

One of the pidddling things I've been doing is pulling toys out to consign in the fall.  I've got some big items that will be going and are further evidence of my kids moving out of that easy-to-entertain stage.  The sand/water table is going away.  The Cozy Coupe will find a new home.  These are the last of the giganto toys of early childhood.  

And while I'm not sad to see the items go because I am excited at the prospect of having my house feel less cluttered, it does give me pause.  

My time mothering very young children is almost over.  My bonus baby will turn 5 in the fall.  This will be his last year of pre-school.  I am a year closer to being able to work more, perhaps paint a bedroom in an entire day while the kids are at school instead of it taking a week of stops and starts.  A year closer to being able to go to lunch with friends, to spend more time with my mom. 

I learned my lesson last year when M started preschool.  I was excited!  I couldn't wait for my 6 hours a week of free time!  And the night before preschool I completely and unexpectedly lost my shit.   

Although I am not comfortable being outwardly sentimental, I am nursing a tender space in my heart right now, very much aware of this precious time.  

As much as I am aware of this, I know that the next few weeks of summer break I will struggle with the kids' arguments and whining and requests for snacks and other things that drive me bonkers about being with them from sun-up until sundown.  I will, as usual, be strung between the cherishing of the precious moments of now and the daily, mind-numbing, soul-crushing grind of now.

It made me feel immensely better last night reading the final chapters of Anna Karenina about Levin's soul-searching and spiritual development.  Levin had been musing on his beliefs, his place in the world, and he resolved to carry this fire of spiritual knowledge with him always.  Of course, that same daily grind with which I struggle got the better of him.

"Now, as always, interference made him angry, and he felt sorrowfully at once how mistaken had been his supposition that his spiritual condition could immediately change him in contact with reality."  

But later, as within my own head/heart and on this blog:

"He was glad of a chance to be alone to recover from the influence of ordinary actual life, ewhich had already depressed his happy mood."  

and still more...

"Real life had only for a time overcast the spiritual peace he had found, but it was still untouched within him."  

I sometimes forget that just because I am cranky and unhappy in the moment, that doesn't mean I am unhappy in the grand scheme of things, with the overall trajectory of my life.