Category: BC (beloved child the elder)

still looking for one divine hammer

still looking for one divine hammer

…of course with my luck, i’d probably end up beating myself in the head. (actually, with my luck, i’d beat myself so senseless that i’d need yet more scans. i suspect i will soon hit the point that i will no longer need scans; they will merely darken the room and say: eureka! she has XYZ! i see it, clear as day, without machinery.)

but life will resume some peace and calm. today, as i mentioned in the last entry, we lost our field trip. we did, apparently, gain an extra shot today, to the tune of four shots. yes, four. BC did her best to completely freak jools out on the subject. oooh, they hurrrrrrrrt! ooooooohhhhh! i haaaaaaaaate shots!!!! waaaaaaahhhhh! (BC will cry early to avoid the rush.)

so i decided that we would make the morning as fun as we could to offset what i figured would be an afternoon from hell. first, we started to clean the inside of the fridge (woohoo! let’s replace the insulation next, or tackle plumbing!) until a shelf i washed and put back fell to the floor, resulting in a broken jar of applesauce AND a broken bottle of soy sauce. (see? even G-d doesn’t want me to be domestic.) i thought at first that i had slashed myself in the process, and i sat stunned for a second, trying to figure out whether i had soy sauce coming out of my finger or blood. i licked the wound (don’t judge me!) and realized that, in spite of the stuff that gets pumped into my veins every four weeks, i doubt i am starting to taste like a stir fry. as soon as jools looked concerned, i lightened up. noooo, mommy is okay. it’s only a flesh wound. (jools may be the only four year old who likes monty python.)

yep. we know us some good times around here.

then, i wondered randomly, as i looked in the cabinet for a fresh jar of applesauce — what can we do with a can of pumpkin? (note to self: are you a latent ADHD kinda grrl?) we found a recipe in one of my favorite bread machine books for pumpkin challah, so there went half the can. i used the rest in a pumpkin bean soup that no one save for me likes.

and then, it was shot time. i promised little man that he could pick a slurpee or nerds candy as his reward for getting three shots. unfortunately, when we arrived, we discovered that he actually needed his tetanus, too. four shots. woohoo. i put on the happiest face i could and told him that he could squeeze my hand as tightly as possible if he wanted and yell if he wanted. i braced myself to keep smiling and not cry. and i’ll be damned.

the boy did not cry. not once.

in fact, he made what i refer to as his lee harvey oswald face, then laughed between shots. i wasn’t sure whether to be overjoyed at this development or terrified that my son is a burgeoning psychotic. but 7-11, the magic you weave will never be forgotten in these parts. slurpee must be the elixir of life.

of course, now i’m reeling because my doctor’s office has apparently not yet received my IVIG, so i am not sure whether i am getting my treatment tomorrow or not. i should be secretly happy if it doesn’t arrive — i mean, i already had one IV this week, mr. vein needs a little rest. but there’s the trains must run on time part of me that just wants to stay on course.

but either way, it’ll be ok. i just won tickets to see tori amos. and reaction or no reaction, slurpee or no slurpee, hell or high water — i’m a’goin’.

don't push me cos i'm close to the…eddddddgggge

don't push me cos i'm close to the…eddddddgggge

this starts with an apology to all the stay at home moms who manage to do this, day in, day out, with nary a complaint. i’m not worthy. really.

for the rest of you who are not candidates for mother of the year, pull up a chair. it’s:

incoherent rant-o-rama time!

every tuesday, jools stays home with me. i love our tuesdays together, and, since i know next year, he starts at the big school with BC, i won’t have a ton of tuesdays left. i love having a day when i get to focus on just one of my kids at one time. don’t get me wrong — i adore each of them with every beat of my heart. but when there’s more than one, you simply have to divvy your attention, your brainspace, your patience. and, with apologies to morrissey and marr, i just haven’t earned it yet (baby).

[neither has that guitarist. yet. but i digress. per usual.]

this tuesday, BC didn’t feel so well. her throat hurt, her ear hurt, and she was dead tired. so i relented. girlfriend stayed home with us and rested, and later that day, when she was swabbed at the doctor’s office and ended up with negative for strep, i thought, oh well, a mental health day for girlfriend. but her being home threw our little balance off. we couldn’t go out and do stuff. we just stayed in. and in. and in. nevermind the fact that girlfriend otherwise felt fine and frankly wanted to buy halloween stuff to “ghost” some of her friends’ houses on our street. (move over lourdes: make room for the holy miracle cure of Target.)

but we didn’t do squat.

then, last night, while jools soaked in the tub, BS yelled for me to come and take a look in jools’ ear. there was this HUGE white blob in his ear. and, according to jools, it was moving. in a word, EWWWWW. could it be a penny? a worm? jimmy hoffa? who the eff knows. i called our amazing pediatricians’ office, where they kindly let us bring him back in at 8:20 pm (yes, you read that right.) nevermind it was the same dr. who saw us earlier in the day and probably wanted to strangle my misbehaving kids. nevermind that poor man has a child sick with croup in his own home (which is no cakewalk, i assure you.) we all wanted to know what the hell had landed in jools’ ear and was making a home there. only, it was just massive amounts of wax and scar tissue from all the previous zillion ear infections he has had. once the doctor cleared it out and sent him on his way, all seemed well.

until this morning. mr. klingon wanted to stay with me. again. madame was fine for school, so i figured, okey doke: today’s half day elementary school in our People’s Republic; jools and i will run errands and have a laff. only, its raining, and while i’m thrilled to death it’s raining from an environmental perspective, it surely messes up all the day. and i’m single parenting for the entire day. can you say loooooooong day’s journey into night? joy.

and tomorrow. oh, tomorrow. jools was supposed to go on a field trip with his class, and i was going to chaperone. only, the class trip is now cancelled thanks to the weather, but the 3 shots that jools has to take in the afternoon are still on. the trip was the proverbial carrot for the medical stick that followed. and now, someone has TAKEN AWAY MY EFFING CARROT. ARRRRRRGH.

it all kind of makes me look forward to sitting with an IV in my arm for 6 hours on friday. sure. it will hurt like a mofo and be boring. but sometimes, boring is good.

G-d and Death

G-d and Death

as you can tell from a post or two, we’ve been struggling to understand the death of our five year old friend. BC and i went to a celebration of mason’s life yesterday. it was a lovely afternoon, filled with people’s remembrances of this little force of nature. i hadn’t even realized that he had met Queen Elizabeth II when she visited children’s national medical center, where the little dude got his treatment — the pictures are incredible. the most wonderful thing for me was hearing about the family’s life before cancer.

on a personal level, one of the hardest things for me as a parent is explaining to my child why G-d would allow such a glorious little boy to get sick and leave his family and friends at such a young age; honestly, i can’t even understand it myself. this morning, i saw our rabbi at hebrew school, and i asked her: what is the rabbinical explanation? cos i’ve searched and searched my heart, and i have a hard time telling my children that sometimes, G-d says no to our prayers. maybe i’m just a lax parent, but i really and truly want to believe that if there is some sort of Benevolent Being, that He/She would want to do better than that.

our rabbi, who i like very, very much, was so warm. yes, she said, there is a school of thought that feels that G-d is omnipotent and therefore sometimes simply says no. she, however, personally believes that G-d is omniscient, not omnipotent. G-d can’t change what’s happening; G-d can only try to provide us comfort and strength in situations that happen. G-d doesn’t make things happen in the world; G-d simply tries to support us.

at least, that’s what i thought i heard. i may be completely taking her out of context, in which case, i am soooooo sorry.

anyway, one of the loveliest gestures from the ceremony yesterday was receiving bulbs to plant in mason’s memory. and on the back of the instructions, there’s a quote from one of my most favorite books: St. Exupery’s the little prince. i’ll end with it since it makes more sense out of the situation than i or anyone else can.

In one of the stars I shall be living,
In one of the stars I shall be laughing,
And so it will be as if the stars were laughing
When you look at the stars at night.
You, only you, will have
stars that can laugh.

Seven Random Facts About Wrekehavoc

Seven Random Facts About Wrekehavoc

I, too, was tagged by a very cool blogger for this meme. The rules are:

  • Link to your tagger and post rules.
  • Share 7 facts about yourself, some random and some weird.
  • Tag 7 people at the end of post and list their names.
  • Let them know they were tagged by a comment on their blog.

1. I look down when I walk. It’s probably a self-esteem issue, but it once resulted in my finding $100 on the floor of Ballston Common.

2. I was in law school. Yes, I really was. For a little over a month. I thought I could become a lawyer and save the world. In a sea of mid-1980s preppies, I had spiky hair; and I hated that my fellow students were stealing or hiding the textbooks we needed to read in the law library. I finally had an epiphany one Sunday morning that I didn’t need to be around such hateful people, all to end up in the yellow pages under Divorce Attorney or somesuch. It was one of the most expensive lessons I ever had, and it took me years to pay it off.

3. The first concert I ever attended was Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band in November 1980 on The River tour. My oldest brother — you know him now fondly in this blog as BTD, or Brutha the Doctor — lobbied my mother hard to let me go with him and his then-girlfriend. I didn’t like Bruce at all then — but after the show, I was converted. And I never looked back.

Thanks, big brother.

4. When I was young, I liked to mix my tuna salad with applesauce. BS thinks this is probably the most revolting food idea in history. But every now and then, I do it when he’s not looking 😉

5. I was a three-time Jeopardy! winner back in the early 1990s. They made me stand on a box so that I was equal height with the other contestants. And I don’t think Alex Trebek liked me all that much. But that’s a whole other story.

6. One of my geeky friends informed me that my children share the names of two Star Trek characters. This is purely unintentional; I was not channeling the spirit of Gene Roddenberry. (And no one is named Spock or Kirk.)

7. I grew up in what was once a smaller town in NJ, a place that’s now extremely huge and populated. One of the theories is that it’s named for Thomas Luker, a farmer who happened to be BS’s great-grandfather back 10 or so generations (hence, jools’ middle name is Thomas.) I hated the place, feeling constrained and much the outsider. I suspect I’d still feel like an outsider if I returned there, but I lovedlovedloved growing up near the ocean. I loved summers when I’d prowl along the Boardwalk and stare down the bennies, tourists who came from NY or Philly. And, though I’ve grown to love my newer (ha! nearly 20 years I’m here) home, I must confess I have never gotten over the fact that it takes at least three hours to hit the ocean. And now, when I go back to the Jersey Shore, I’m probably considered a benny, too.

I’d love to tag people but they’re still smarting from the last tagging. But anyone who wants to pick up the cause — just let me know in the comments.

oh mercy, mercy me

oh mercy, mercy me

with sincerest apologies to marvin gaye.

today is blog action day. because i’m a lemming because i’m a bit distraught over the weekend’s events, it comes as something of a relief to write about something like the environment (which tells you how awful the weekend truly was)… although there is a part of me that wonders whether we are adding to the pollution in the blogosphere.

but i digress.

clearly, we need to use less, as my dear pal kellyo notes beautifully. i’ll try to tackle another piece, however picayune, of the puzzle.

recycling is a topic near and dear to my heart, especially on tuesdays when i start getting cans, bottles, cardboard, and the 57 editions of the washington post that BS has left under his chair ready for our friends in the recycling truck on wednesday. i dare not take them to the bins for fear i’ll get chastised by the Woman Who Haunts The Recycling Bins, she who informed me one day that some of my cardboard was not, in fact, cardboard. she wasn’t wrong, and i was chagrined, and now, i am pretty well informed about my paperboard and my cardboard. i’m strongly against segregation, but in this instance, i’ll try to keep the twain from meeting, so to speak. nevertheless, i’ll let my friends in the blue truck help me out in case i’m mistaken one day. i don’t want to be wrong on that and enter recycling hell. more importantly, i don’t want to eff things up and actually create more pollution than i would have if i left things well enough alone.

so i thought i’d share some of my favorite recycled products. just cos.

littlearth license plate handbags. i have been jonesing for a jersey plate handbag ever since i first laid eyes on one of these things on my thelma-n-louse trip to arizona with my pal murph. see — recycle license plates and make them a fashion statement. they should get prisoners working on THESE. correctional centers would actually MAKE money. (note to BS: the ho-li-days are coming…)

recycled aluminum wall clocks. these are SOOO cool, if you like mod-ren sorts of artsyfartsy stuff. which i do, of course. of course these look more like a craft i can take up one rainy day with the kids… speaking of the kids…

junkyard cats. these pups (no pun intended, though they also have dogs and other critters) are made from scrap and rejected garden tools, farm machinery, bicycle and auto parts, which is nice because it keeps them out of the junk heap. [note to self: contact them. your garage alone could furnish noah’s modern ark.]

laptop lunches lunchboxes. not just for kids (or vegans) only! do you have any concept of how much waste is created every day because we all use those little plastic bags or buy individually-packaged cookies or hohos or whatever it is you like in your lunch? yes, these lunchbox systems are made of plastic — it’s recyclable, although at this price, there ain’t no WAY you’re recycling it anytime soon. and they are so gosh-darn cute! if i weren’t afraid BC was going to lose these, i would snap one up in a second. instead, i am trying to reuse some of the little plastic containers i have amassed over the years to pack her lunches. inside a cute, tween-approved lunch sack, of course. (GAWD, mama, you embarrass me!!!) but one day…

now, since i’m just chanelling the hints from heloise chick (for the insane parent-set), some more recycling tips for you moms, dads, and caregivers out there.

1) you know how sometimes, you end up printing more pages than you wanted to off your printer or fax? stop telling the computer to piss off and save those pages. your kids can draw on them til the cows come home. don’t let that tree die in vain.

2) hey you working parents: you know how there’s always some forgetful person at the office who also prints a bajillion pages of things and then leaves them at the printer for a few days? i say, after two days, the statute of limitation ends. if the paper(s) hasn’t been claimed or put in a recycling bin, take THOSE home for your kids to use. my kids thought it was hilarious when they wrote official “mail” that had my company’s logo on it. i just resisted the temptation to actually mail that stuff…

3) all those little bits of crayon you have lying about, naked and too small to be held by even the tiniest preschool hand? make homemade crayons. jools loved coloring with his — it made automatic rainbows.

4) there are tons of things you can make from old computer stuff. i’m hoping i can get BC to make me a disco ball. hell, i’ll hang it from the rear view mirror of the Prius.

5) this one from BS, who has never considered himself terribly crafty: take old CDs or DVDs you don’t want. buy round cork, and glue it to the backs of aforementioned disks. Voila! you’ve got coasters. (and yes, we really, really DO have such coasters in our home. pity we’re so uncivilized that we hardly use them.) BS is such a dark horse. he’s crafty!

6) recycle clothes. (hint: they’re found at rummage sales, jumble sales, goodwill, garage sales…). organize a clothes swapping party with friends. (one of my clever friends does this. there’s always wine, so i’m always there.) i’m thrilled i have friends who take the clothes off my hands, and my friends seem happy that there’s less stuff to buy. happy happy all around. if you want to make money off them, then send them to a consignment shop. but the pain and heartbreak of that process sometimes is not worth the trouble. donate. it’s good for the earth, it’s good for your karma, and hell, it’s so freaking easy. (just don’t donate the things that are permanently covered in vomit. use those as cleaning rags.)

ok. all politics is local. all betterment starts with you. turn off your computer and change the world.

attack of the girly-girls

attack of the girly-girls

as my MIL is wont to say, paybacks are a bitch. but sometimes, karmic paybacks are pretty hilarious.

i grew up with two older brothers. consequently, while i had my share of barbies, i grew up playing baseball, basketball, kill-the-guy-with-the-ball, and touch football. (my brothers thought it would be a hoot to teach me, a rightie, to bat lefty. to this day, i can only bat lefty. yep. our own homegrown version of stupid sister tricks.) i lasted just under a month in the brownies — when i learned that they didn’t play softball, i bailed faster than you could say jackie robinson. i was the fastest girl in my class until puberty reared its ugly whatever and i developed hips. most of my best friends throughout my high school days were guys.

i don’t think i wore a dress from 1973 through 1977.

so it comes as no karmic surprise that i birthed a girly-girl. BC loves her sparkles, her glitter, her hot pink and purple. at age two, the chick loved to spend hours in the shoe department. she may make fun of me on the rare days when i deign to wear makeup, but boy, put some in front of her and she’ll walk out in technicolor splendor. dolls? bring ’em on. hannah montana? yeah, baby. sephora? nirvana.

at first, i found it alien to do a lot of this sort of thing. anyone who knew me in high school knew i rarely wore makeup. (my future SIL gave me a honkin’ big Revlon makeup kit for my 17th birthday. i remember her words well: even the prettiest girls need help now and then.) i could care less about handbags. and shoes? BC will berate me — most of my shoes are black, the better to go with most of my wardrobe. mama, she chides me, you really need to break out of the black and into colors.

so today, as it’s half-day wednesday, we decided to paint our toenails. mine are a deep-red-wine color, and hers, not surprisingly, are bright fuschia, with a layer of clear sparkles on top to boot. hers got a little messed up, so we’ll probably try again tomorrow. i just can’t bear to inhale the nail polish remover and the nail polish odors much more. with all the tests and scans i have had of late, i probably will spontaneously combust if i’m not too careful.

but you know what? it was actually fun sitting there and watching the proverbial paint dry. i can’t say we solved any of the world’s problems during that time, but it was a weird little feminine ritual that i think will bond us, ever so slightly more than we already are. and i’ve got me some kick-ass looking nails.

maybe tomorrow, we’ll hit the mall and look into eye makeup…

as usual, i suck as a mom

as usual, i suck as a mom

yesterday was painful enough. BC started a running program at school geared toward tween girls — you know, all about girl power and healthy self image and all those things my girlfriends and i all lack? of course, she gets there, and there are three other third grade girls who say hi to her and quickly run away. the girls, apparently surgically attached at the hip, were not interested in making a new girl feel welcome. apparently, after i left, BC cried 🙁

it sucks having to relive childhood misery.

so this morning, i wore my workout clothes to school when i dropped BC off. after yesterday’s trauma, i took a few minutes and walked her in. i should point out that my t-shirt is an ancient, huge t-shirt that a woman from the Weekly World News gave to me when my old workplace was contemplating doing a content deal with them. i absolutely love this shirt and will mourn it’s passing when it goes (it’s 11 years old now). there’s a picture of a mink on it. the headline reads:

WOMAN KILLED BY FUR COAT

$30G full-length mink comes alive and bites rich widow to death!

ah, the subtlety. the new york post has nothing on these folks.

anyhow, i am walking out of school, having successfully removed my beloved child, BC, off my person. i see a mother. she sees me. she stops.

and she scowls.

i mean, a major, WTF scowl. like somehow, i am polluting the very air she and her child are breathing because of my shirt (which, i would point out, was freshly laundered at that point in the day.) she actually looks angry at me. i walked on.

that’s it. i’ve had it.

i’m checking ebay to see if i can find BC a Sex Pistols shirt to wear to school.

bashing

bashing

so today, i’m at physical therapy, doing what i do best — sweating and being a complete and utter spaz. i’m on this pulley that i have to pull, attached, like a dog on a leash. i walk forward like the guys in genesis in i can’t dance only to hit the end of the line, and, like a dog that rushes it’s way to the end while chasing a squirrel, i get yanked back by pounds and pounds of weights. it’s pretty funny, actually, and i can’t wait til next week, when BC has to accompany me. oh, i’ll be hearing about this for years: mommy is so nutty! let’s have her committed.

but i do this every week in the hope that my knee will get stronger, that i’ll get stronger, that the world will resume some semblance of normalcy.

but will it ever, i wonder.

so i’m doing my thang. next to me is a woman who is working on another body part with one of the PTs, a really nice guy whose name i’ve forgotten. we’re all talking about new jersey, as his siblings live there and he’s off there for the weekend. i mention that i grew up there, and we start talking geography.

so this woman notes that she likes middletown, NJ. i mention it’s a nice place, that my mother taught there for a little while. i’m trying to understand what she’s saying — she has a thick accent, though it sounds like a mixture of asian and hispanic, and i can’t really hear everything clearly. but then, she starts going off on jews. v e r y c l e a r l y, thankyouverymuch. are you jewish? she asks the PT. he whips out two crosses he has around his neck. and then she goes off on how jews are all rich and-other-delightful-stereotypes-that-just-make-my-life-complete and which i won’t even write here.

COME AGAIN?

this was the point where i hit the end of the pulley, literally knocking the wind out of myself. they moved at that point. i stood there, dumbfounded. i’m still mad that i didn’t get to question her. politely.
there’s a part of me that has had such an incredibly shitty week that would just simply start screaming in a socially-unacceptable way. considering, though, that i have to continue at the PT for the unforseen future, though, i didn’t.

but that chick better hope i am not scheduled at the same time she is. she will get an earful.

why? why? why?

it seems to be increasingly socially acceptable to bash jews again. even segments of the liberal left (of which i always thought i was a part), some of whom are jewish, go after jews on the whole concept of middle east peace. it’s difficult to separate rational arguments from antisemitism, to be sure.

people seem to have forgotten how it all started: how many countries refused to let refugees from Nazi horror into their countries — sometimes in measured amounts, but plenty of times, outright refusal, america included. israel let them in. i’m not saying israel is even close to perfect — america certainly isn’t — but i’m beginning to get irritated about how it is becoming increasingly fashionable to bash people with broad brush strokes. as if we are one people who agree on everything in every way.

it’s about as effective as bashing all americans because of our president’s foreign policy. because believe me, it ain’t like we all agree with the Shrub.

grrrr…

taking the cupcakes

taking the cupcakes

BC recently started life at our neighborhood school. soon thereafter, everyone received a note about school snacks. as the third graders have the latest lunch at school (lunch begins — wait for it — at 12:50), they are allowed to bring in an extra snack to eat mid-morning. the snack, however, is supposed to be a healthy snack — and apparently, if you send your child in with something like, oh, i dunno, HoHos, the HoHos will be taken (or put away) and your child will either be hungry or, if your child has a nice teacher like BC does, your child will probably get some graham crackers or animal crackers to tide her over.

ok, so i get the whole healthy snack thing. no one wants to have to teach sugar-hopped kids all day. after lunch is enough to have to deal with that. but wait — there’s more.

on birthdays, one is not supposed to bring in cupcakes. one is, instead, supposed to bring in something healthy if one is so inclined. one example i read was a popcorn ball. (aren’t those things put together with corn syrup? tell me how corn syrup is better than sugar!)

c’mon. it’s a freaking birthday! what on earth is problematic about a kid having a birthday with cupcakes? so now, i will probably bake muffins with chocolate chips in them and pretend they are cupcakes. i’m so stealthy and subversive, you know.

apparently, i’m not the only one irritated by this. 

people on 'ludes should not drive

people on 'ludes should not drive

…and people who are on a 24-hour liquid diet pre-general anesthesia should not go food shopping. which i did, ‘cos i’m the most super brilliant mom alive. i walked in for bananas and walked out with $100 worth of groceries, very little of which i can eat today except for:

  1. peach jello
  2. peach jello
  3. chicken soup (clear, nothing in it)
  4. coffee
  5. pineapple jello
  6. orange jello; and
  7. popsicles.

now, this regimen, sans the soup and coffee (in which i can’t put milk today, so why bother?), might seem like nirvana to BC. but the natural fact here is that i cannot eat anything red. no red popsicles. no red jello. no red nuthin’ (unless i want my gastroenterologist to die of fright thinking i’m hemorrhaging inside.) this, of course, causes a problem because red is my favorite flavor. (i’m pretty indiscriminate when it comes to red. i don’t really care if it means cherry, strawberry, raspberry, razzleberry… ha! caught you there. 😉

fortunately, it appears that my friends at jello have branched out a little and added peach and pineapple to their non-red jello repertoire. thank G-d, too, because the only way i’m having green or lemon jello is if someone makes them into shooters. you should know that i don’t really like jello all that much, but today, it is officially dubbed food of the gods!

on the bright side, my fingernails will grow strong.

now, because i am extra brilliant, i failed to consult the calendar back in may when i made this appointment. and guess what else is tonight? yup. Back to School Night. back to school night falls squarely in my domain; while BS is an involved and caring dad, i know probably leaps and bounds more about BC’s daily existence than he does. but i have a feeling that i will be feeling about as pleasant as old garbage tonight. so i will stay home with both kids (yay! fighting over the toilet with jools will be something to look forward to!) while BS goes through the hallowed halls of a school he has not yet entered. i think. (honey: make a right when you walk in the front door and just keep walking until the school ends. that’s her classroom.) it’s probably a good thing, i’m sure. he’ll meet BC’s teacher (who i see every morning when i’m dragged down the hall), see the locker she never uses, and enjoy the fact that there are no reports of girlfriend tearing the place down.

that, my friend, will not happen until the day jools enters school.

don’t worry. i’ll be sure to schedule something a little more lasting for that day. like a medically-induced coma.

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