Showing posts with label just me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just me. Show all posts
Monday, January 28, 2013
Friday, November 2, 2012
Letting Go
We are at the end.
Archie hasn't eaten anything since Wednesday night, and now he is also refusing water. This morning, we took him to the vet, anticipating that our trip would be "it," but then when it was suggested that he receive IV fluids and take some anti-nausea medication, we caved, grasping at another chance.
But, I think we are out of chances.
I made bacon for dinner tonight, and he sadly turned his head away when I offered it to him. Right now, he is on the couch with Josh, and they are watching Sons of Anarchy. Archie's head is resting on Josh's leg and he keeps drifting in and out of sleep. As far as I can tell he isn't in any pain. Our plan for tonight is to stay up, sit with him on the couch and eat Lola's Halloween candy.
I'm not ready, and I don't want to acknowledge it, but I know that it's time.
Archie hasn't eaten anything since Wednesday night, and now he is also refusing water. This morning, we took him to the vet, anticipating that our trip would be "it," but then when it was suggested that he receive IV fluids and take some anti-nausea medication, we caved, grasping at another chance.
But, I think we are out of chances.
I made bacon for dinner tonight, and he sadly turned his head away when I offered it to him. Right now, he is on the couch with Josh, and they are watching Sons of Anarchy. Archie's head is resting on Josh's leg and he keeps drifting in and out of sleep. As far as I can tell he isn't in any pain. Our plan for tonight is to stay up, sit with him on the couch and eat Lola's Halloween candy.
I'm not ready, and I don't want to acknowledge it, but I know that it's time.
Monday, October 8, 2012
Just Me and a Couple of Chickens
In mid-August, Lola experienced her first day of preschool.
I was just going to post a photo of her, but then I felt the need to write about the pre-preschool stuff, because like a lot things that involve this little girl, the back story has to do with me and how mothering has made me even more neurotic than I was before Lola. And of course, it has taken me months to actually sit down and write. So here you go, a photo.
There are a few more below. Feel free to scroll through my ramblings to see them. I won't be offended.
Anyway, where was I? I suppose this story really started many months before the first day of school.
Months and months ago, Josh and I began to discuss what sort of preschool we would like Lola to attend. While we knew that we wanted her to experience two years of preschool before kindergarten, we were unsure of what sort of setting we wanted her to be in. I began to talk to co-workers and friends with older children. The more I listened, the more I learned, and the more overwhelmed I became because I quickly realized that there are several different types of preschool environments. Each one seemed to claim that it is the best way to teach a child, and everyone seemed to agree that you should put your child in the environment in which she learns best, but until you put your child in an actual preschool environment, how do you know which way is the best way your child learns? And then, what if you put her in the wrong environment, and that environment doesn't work, and you need to change schools, but your next choice is full, and then fast forward 15 years, your kid doesn't qualify for any financial aid and you're stuck with a $40,000 annual college tuition bill. THERE IS A LOT RIDING ON THIS ISSUE.
Next time I complain about not being able to sleep and I blame it on Lola, please quietly email this post to me with the subject line: It's your own fault, worrywart.
In order to resolve this issue, I resorted to my favorite problem solver of all time, the list. First, I made a list of the things that were important to me:
Outdoor play
Affordable tuition
Balance between "structured academics" and open creative play
Diversity
Experienced teacher
For a while, I was set on sending Lola to a Spanish immersion school, where the entire school day is taught in Spanish. (Josh nixed this idea when we learned the school was an in-home program, which was something he was not comfortable with.) Then, I began to lean toward a Montessori school, but when they increased their tuition rates for the school year, it was no longer within our budget.
We finally settled on a co-op school in our neighborhood. This co-op is ran through our local Parks Department and the school program requires parents to volunteer a set number of hours in the classroom each month, as well as expects the parents to perform other specific classroom duties. (Josh volunteered to be the "laundry" parent, which means he is in charge of washing the kitchen towels, and other various clean up towels used each week. I'm the "preschool librarian" which essentially means that I am in charge of the monthly Scholastic Book Club orders.) The teacher follows a Love and Logic approach, and I think the classroom can be best described as a Montessori-Waldorf hybrid.
This co-op has a reputation of being difficult to get into, and at the tour we took back in February, I was told that in order to get your child admitted, it was necessary to sign-up on the first day of registration. Given that I've heard stories about people camping outside elementary schools in order to get priority kindergarten registration, I took this tidbit of info from the tour and stuck it to my mental Pinterest board titled, "I'll do Anything for my Child."
Fast forward to April, and there I am on registration day, standing outside the Parks Department Building at 6:30 A.M. The office is set to open at 8:00 AM, and other than meeting the Parks maintenance man (who's day I learned began at 5:30 AM), it's just me and a couple of the wild neighborhood chickens. I fully expect a large line to form, one that would wrap around the building, so I wait.
At 6:45, I go back to my car to get a jacket. At 7:15, I pull out my cell phone and start texting friends who might be on their commute to work. At 7:45 AM, still alone, I realize just how crazy I am. At 7:55 AM, employees begin to pull into the parking lot and I feel a way of ridiculousness wash over me, as I quickly hide my book in my purse. One of the women invites me inside. "Have you been waiting very long?" No, not at all, I tell her. I quickly register Lola for school, and then leave, hoping that I won't have to come back to the office any time soon.
Later, I find out that my craziness was worth it, as the returning children received priority registration, and Lola is only one out of four new children in the class.
So far, being that we are now almost two months in, we are pleased with our choice. As far as my list goes, the only area lacking is diversity, but given the demographics of our neighborhood, that isn't entirely surprising. Lola loves school, and when she comes home she excitedly shares stories about the friends that she has made, the things she has built, the many many puzzles she has put together (our girl loves puzzles!), and is always pulling some sort of crazy craft project out of her backpack.
What has surprised Josh and I the most about our experience with our community-based school, is just how much of a community it is. Rarely do we leave the house and not run into someone we know. We still go to the same parks, the same library, the same grocery store, as we did before, but now when we go, we hear, "Lola!" and then turn to see a smiling parent with child in tow. As Lola is making friends, Josh and I are beginning to form friendships too, and that feels really good.
I was just going to post a photo of her, but then I felt the need to write about the pre-preschool stuff, because like a lot things that involve this little girl, the back story has to do with me and how mothering has made me even more neurotic than I was before Lola. And of course, it has taken me months to actually sit down and write. So here you go, a photo.
There are a few more below. Feel free to scroll through my ramblings to see them. I won't be offended.
Anyway, where was I? I suppose this story really started many months before the first day of school.
Months and months ago, Josh and I began to discuss what sort of preschool we would like Lola to attend. While we knew that we wanted her to experience two years of preschool before kindergarten, we were unsure of what sort of setting we wanted her to be in. I began to talk to co-workers and friends with older children. The more I listened, the more I learned, and the more overwhelmed I became because I quickly realized that there are several different types of preschool environments. Each one seemed to claim that it is the best way to teach a child, and everyone seemed to agree that you should put your child in the environment in which she learns best, but until you put your child in an actual preschool environment, how do you know which way is the best way your child learns? And then, what if you put her in the wrong environment, and that environment doesn't work, and you need to change schools, but your next choice is full, and then fast forward 15 years, your kid doesn't qualify for any financial aid and you're stuck with a $40,000 annual college tuition bill. THERE IS A LOT RIDING ON THIS ISSUE.
Next time I complain about not being able to sleep and I blame it on Lola, please quietly email this post to me with the subject line: It's your own fault, worrywart.
In order to resolve this issue, I resorted to my favorite problem solver of all time, the list. First, I made a list of the things that were important to me:
Outdoor play
Affordable tuition
Balance between "structured academics" and open creative play
Diversity
Experienced teacher
For a while, I was set on sending Lola to a Spanish immersion school, where the entire school day is taught in Spanish. (Josh nixed this idea when we learned the school was an in-home program, which was something he was not comfortable with.) Then, I began to lean toward a Montessori school, but when they increased their tuition rates for the school year, it was no longer within our budget.
We finally settled on a co-op school in our neighborhood. This co-op is ran through our local Parks Department and the school program requires parents to volunteer a set number of hours in the classroom each month, as well as expects the parents to perform other specific classroom duties. (Josh volunteered to be the "laundry" parent, which means he is in charge of washing the kitchen towels, and other various clean up towels used each week. I'm the "preschool librarian" which essentially means that I am in charge of the monthly Scholastic Book Club orders.) The teacher follows a Love and Logic approach, and I think the classroom can be best described as a Montessori-Waldorf hybrid.
This co-op has a reputation of being difficult to get into, and at the tour we took back in February, I was told that in order to get your child admitted, it was necessary to sign-up on the first day of registration. Given that I've heard stories about people camping outside elementary schools in order to get priority kindergarten registration, I took this tidbit of info from the tour and stuck it to my mental Pinterest board titled, "I'll do Anything for my Child."
Fast forward to April, and there I am on registration day, standing outside the Parks Department Building at 6:30 A.M. The office is set to open at 8:00 AM, and other than meeting the Parks maintenance man (who's day I learned began at 5:30 AM), it's just me and a couple of the wild neighborhood chickens. I fully expect a large line to form, one that would wrap around the building, so I wait.
At 6:45, I go back to my car to get a jacket. At 7:15, I pull out my cell phone and start texting friends who might be on their commute to work. At 7:45 AM, still alone, I realize just how crazy I am. At 7:55 AM, employees begin to pull into the parking lot and I feel a way of ridiculousness wash over me, as I quickly hide my book in my purse. One of the women invites me inside. "Have you been waiting very long?" No, not at all, I tell her. I quickly register Lola for school, and then leave, hoping that I won't have to come back to the office any time soon.
Later, I find out that my craziness was worth it, as the returning children received priority registration, and Lola is only one out of four new children in the class.
So far, being that we are now almost two months in, we are pleased with our choice. As far as my list goes, the only area lacking is diversity, but given the demographics of our neighborhood, that isn't entirely surprising. Lola loves school, and when she comes home she excitedly shares stories about the friends that she has made, the things she has built, the many many puzzles she has put together (our girl loves puzzles!), and is always pulling some sort of crazy craft project out of her backpack.
What has surprised Josh and I the most about our experience with our community-based school, is just how much of a community it is. Rarely do we leave the house and not run into someone we know. We still go to the same parks, the same library, the same grocery store, as we did before, but now when we go, we hear, "Lola!" and then turn to see a smiling parent with child in tow. As Lola is making friends, Josh and I are beginning to form friendships too, and that feels really good.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
I Won't Give Up Yet
During the many specialist appointments that we've attended with Archie, each one made a special point to use the phrase "quality of life." As much as I've tried to comfort myself by saying that Archie is naturally very melancholy and sleeps for hours each day, I know that his lack of mobility has made him even more depressed than usual.
In an attempt to lift his spirits, we purchased a cart for him.
It's definitely taking him some time to get used to it, but it's great because now he is mobile and he can spend even more time outside sniffing and barking at squirrels. My new favorite Archie moments involve him attempting to pee on bushes. He practically steamrolls the bush for a couple of drops of pee. So far, none of the neighbors have complained.
I realize that some people might think that I am nuts for doing these sort of things for my dog. But in defense of my actions, I have to say that I feel that what I am doing is really minimal in exchange for the years of unconditional love he has shown for me. He might just be a dog, but he's my dog, and a member of my family, and he deserves to be cared for and loved until the end.
In an attempt to lift his spirits, we purchased a cart for him.
It's definitely taking him some time to get used to it, but it's great because now he is mobile and he can spend even more time outside sniffing and barking at squirrels. My new favorite Archie moments involve him attempting to pee on bushes. He practically steamrolls the bush for a couple of drops of pee. So far, none of the neighbors have complained.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Family Camping Trip, Part III
There's something about the hot valley air that makes me crave the ocean. My need for some marine layer usually starts around mid-July, which is a big reason why our summer family trips are set on the coast for this time of year. Josh indulges me by driving us down Highway 1, even though we both know this route is the long way.
Our first glimpse of the water is in Benicia, but we always joke how that doesn't count. It's the Bay, we say, as we continue toward Santa Cruz. Each mile we head west, the temperature drops. First down to 90, then 80, and as it quickly moves toward 70, it settles in around a blessed 68. If we're lucky, it may even dip into the low 60s.
Winding our way into Big Sur, I roll down my window. Lola shouts, the wind is too much for her in the backseat. I take a deep breath. We've made it, I say. Josh quickly reminds me of the many miles we have to go, the many extra miles we must go.
But that's OK, because this road is my indulgence. It's my welcome to summer, enjoy it while it lasts, because in a week you'll have to go back to heat, back to work, back to reality.
Each trip, something unusual will happen. It's like this highway knows it has a historical reputation to live up to. Last year, as dawn broke on the west, we saw a man on a skateboard. Given that this road can barely contain its two lanes, plus a slew of bicyclists who believe in playing chicken with amateur RV drivers, skateboarders tend to stick to the small coastal town. But he, he was moving so fast, we had no need to slow down other than to stare. His friends followed him in a van, one of them hinging themselves on the side of the vehicle with a video camera in hand. Later on, we searched for him on YouTube. We never found him, and now I wonder if I imagined it all.
This year, it was I who nearly fell out of the passenger side window, as I saw a California condor. Given that this was the only time I had ever seen one outside of a zoo, I could barely stay in the car when I saw it sunning itself on a cliff. Josh! I shrieked. A condor!! A what? He shouted.
In which we then had a very brief discussion as to how he would not be turning around the car to go and verify my sight, and no he would not stop the car so I could run up the cliff and take a photo to confirm that I did indeed see a condor. The conclusion of this conversation then led into another in which we began talking about exactly how endangered California condor birds are (the one I saw had large tag marked "40" on it), what sort of habitat they must require, and the possibility of whether that specific condor had been born at the San Diego Wild Animal Park (which we determined was not likely.)
After another hour of switchbacks, slow traffic, and an endearing conversation about conservation, we leave the rugged cliffs and coming flying out onto the flatland. 65 has never felt so fast. Only a few more miles and we're there.
Our first glimpse of the water is in Benicia, but we always joke how that doesn't count. It's the Bay, we say, as we continue toward Santa Cruz. Each mile we head west, the temperature drops. First down to 90, then 80, and as it quickly moves toward 70, it settles in around a blessed 68. If we're lucky, it may even dip into the low 60s.
Winding our way into Big Sur, I roll down my window. Lola shouts, the wind is too much for her in the backseat. I take a deep breath. We've made it, I say. Josh quickly reminds me of the many miles we have to go, the many extra miles we must go.
But that's OK, because this road is my indulgence. It's my welcome to summer, enjoy it while it lasts, because in a week you'll have to go back to heat, back to work, back to reality.
Each trip, something unusual will happen. It's like this highway knows it has a historical reputation to live up to. Last year, as dawn broke on the west, we saw a man on a skateboard. Given that this road can barely contain its two lanes, plus a slew of bicyclists who believe in playing chicken with amateur RV drivers, skateboarders tend to stick to the small coastal town. But he, he was moving so fast, we had no need to slow down other than to stare. His friends followed him in a van, one of them hinging themselves on the side of the vehicle with a video camera in hand. Later on, we searched for him on YouTube. We never found him, and now I wonder if I imagined it all.
This year, it was I who nearly fell out of the passenger side window, as I saw a California condor. Given that this was the only time I had ever seen one outside of a zoo, I could barely stay in the car when I saw it sunning itself on a cliff. Josh! I shrieked. A condor!! A what? He shouted.
In which we then had a very brief discussion as to how he would not be turning around the car to go and verify my sight, and no he would not stop the car so I could run up the cliff and take a photo to confirm that I did indeed see a condor. The conclusion of this conversation then led into another in which we began talking about exactly how endangered California condor birds are (the one I saw had large tag marked "40" on it), what sort of habitat they must require, and the possibility of whether that specific condor had been born at the San Diego Wild Animal Park (which we determined was not likely.)
After another hour of switchbacks, slow traffic, and an endearing conversation about conservation, we leave the rugged cliffs and coming flying out onto the flatland. 65 has never felt so fast. Only a few more miles and we're there.
Saturday, January 21, 2012
The Last Few Weeks
Leaving town when you feel overwhelmed by work is probably not the best idea, but when you know the relentless pulse will continue regardless of where you are, the idea of sitting in a hot tub on a cold mountain night is very persuading.
And so, we packed up and escaped to Truckee for two nights. Our friends Alex and Valerie rented a house and invited us to stay with them.
Lola is good friends with their son Zander, and the two of them had fun exploring outside. They were highly disappointed in the lack of snow. Lola was so bummed that she started her own "Occupy Snow" movement and refused to move off the snow rock she had so carefully climbed onto.
It was great to get away, but as always, a little rough to return to reality.
And so, we packed up and escaped to Truckee for two nights. Our friends Alex and Valerie rented a house and invited us to stay with them.
Lola is good friends with their son Zander, and the two of them had fun exploring outside. They were highly disappointed in the lack of snow. Lola was so bummed that she started her own "Occupy Snow" movement and refused to move off the snow rock she had so carefully climbed onto.
The next weekend, after yet again another stressful week at work and also a visit from my mother-in-law (who was wonderful, but I have no photos of her visit. Insert sad smiley), I went to Pajaro Dunes for a girls' weekend. There were margaritas, wine, good food, and board games. Oh yes, and a pretty view from the balcony. I took this photo while sitting on the patio, drinking my morning coffee.
It was great to get away, but as always, a little rough to return to reality.
Monday, January 2, 2012
What to do, What to do.
My resolutions for 2012, in order of importance:
1. Beat my little brother at Words with Friends. Nick and I play this game via our smartphones and I have never won a single match. I am fairly certain that he is using some sort of cheating mechanism because he often plays a word that makes me question whether it is really a word and usually this pseudo-word scores a lot of points for him. (Mom and Dad: Don't tell him that I think he is cheating.) Therefore, at some point during 2012, I want to beat him at Words with Friends, JUST ONCE, and not cheat during the process of doing so.
2. Put Gizmo on a diet. The little chunk needs to lose some pounds. Like, 25% of her body weight. If there was a Biggest Loser for dogs, she would probably qualify. Her sob story would go, They love Archie more than they love me.
3. Start running (again). I'm going to try to follow the Couch-to-5K program. Not that I want to run a 5K, because I don't. But because, I need to ease back into running. Last time I tried to get back into running, I ended up in pain a good 3 days post-run. It's never fun to start doing something that you know will cause you so much pain.
4. Get our digital photos under control. They are waaaaay out of control. I need to create photo albums and I need to start with the year 2007. Yes, I am that far behind.
Wish me luck.
1. Beat my little brother at Words with Friends. Nick and I play this game via our smartphones and I have never won a single match. I am fairly certain that he is using some sort of cheating mechanism because he often plays a word that makes me question whether it is really a word and usually this pseudo-word scores a lot of points for him. (Mom and Dad: Don't tell him that I think he is cheating.) Therefore, at some point during 2012, I want to beat him at Words with Friends, JUST ONCE, and not cheat during the process of doing so.
2. Put Gizmo on a diet. The little chunk needs to lose some pounds. Like, 25% of her body weight. If there was a Biggest Loser for dogs, she would probably qualify. Her sob story would go, They love Archie more than they love me.
3. Start running (again). I'm going to try to follow the Couch-to-5K program. Not that I want to run a 5K, because I don't. But because, I need to ease back into running. Last time I tried to get back into running, I ended up in pain a good 3 days post-run. It's never fun to start doing something that you know will cause you so much pain.
4. Get our digital photos under control. They are waaaaay out of control. I need to create photo albums and I need to start with the year 2007. Yes, I am that far behind.
Wish me luck.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
My Book Report for 2011
As I've mentioned before, one of my resolutions for 2011 was to read non-parenting books. I began the year by only reading books that Josh recommended to me, approaching this goal as if it were a non-negotiable task.
Mid-year, I found myself wandering from Josh's recommendations and following those of others. As a result, 2011 has been a year of books recommended by Josh and friends. For a woman who hasn't read a fiction book in almost four years, I am proud that I made it through 12 books. Here is my list, with the name of the person who made the recommendation in parentheses:
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, Mark Haddon, (Josh)
The Catcher in the Rye, J.D. Salinger, (Josh)
Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, HGTG Book 1, Douglas Adams, (Josh)
The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, HGTG Book 2, Douglas Adams, (Josh)
Life, the Universe and Everything, HGTG Book 3, Douglas Adams, (Josh)
The Braindead Megaphone, George Saunders, (Rachel)
How It Ended, Jay McInerney, (Amy)
Thank you for Smoking, Christopher Buckley, (Josh)
Brave New World, Aldous Huxley, (Josh)
Stardust, Neil Gaiman, (Josh)
Watership Down, Richard Adams, (Grandma Rose)*
Vroom with a View, Peter Moore, (Anne M.)
*When I was in high school, my grandmother, Rose, gave her copy of Watership Down to me. She claimed it was her favorite book of all time and urged me to read it. It wasn't until this past summer, 10 years after her death, that I picked it up. I really enjoyed it, and I know she would have made her happy to know that I finally read it.
As you can tell from my list, the books I read varied in genre and style. Even though The Catcher in the Rye and Brave New World are considered well-read classics, I hadn't read either one, and if Josh hadn't suggested them, I don't know when I would have picked them up.
So, I am sure you are wondering which book was my favorite. Or at least, what would I recommend from my list.
I can't believe I am going to write this, but I loved Stardust by Neil Gaiman. I don't think I have read a fantasy book since Liz Smith made me read The Sword of Shannara in 8th grade (which, by the way, I don't recommend, unless you are seeking to be tortured for about three weeks, and yes, I feel the same way about Lord of the Rings. Sorry, Manny.)
But, I handed over the reins to Josh, and he picked out Stardust for me. I think it is best described as a grown-up fairy tale: A young man promises his love that he will fetch a fallen star for her and his quest for the star results in adventure with a tender ending. If you loved The Princess Bride, you will love Stardust. It's that sort of book. If you haven't already read it, I recommend it. :)
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Remembering Happier Times
When we first moved here, it was summer. Josh's birthday was soon, and I was searching for a recipe for a special dessert. My new friend Maria suggested that I make a brownie pudding cake, and she offered to loan her boyfriend's cast iron pan to me. The loan came with a caveat: I couldn't keep the pan too long, because her boyfriend, Thomas, would need it. She said, he used it just about every day.
I was thankful for the recipe, and I was curious about the boyfriend. Curious isn't exactly the right word. Intrigued, maybe? Downright surprised? I mean, I didn't really know many men who owned their own pans and used them, with the exception of one (Adam Lord, I am looking at you). And so, on that day, I declared Maria as one of the most fortunate women I knew, as she lived with a man who cooked for her.
I made the cake, and it was a success. A few weeks later, I bought my own cast iron skillet. It's twelve inches around, and heavy as hell. It's a permanent fixture in my kitchen, residing on the stove top, never resigned to the cupboard. I use it every single day.
It's been more than three years since that summer. Maria is no longer a new friend, but instead a very good friend. Over time I got to know Thomas, and I learned that he wasn't just a man in the kitchen, but that he was very smart, and fun, and had such an ease about him that you always felt comfortable in his presence.
At his memorial, Maria said, "We are all better for knowing him." I never told him about my pan purchase. I know if I had, he would have laughed.
Thank you, Thomas, for your friendship and cast iron influence. One day, we'll cook again.
I was thankful for the recipe, and I was curious about the boyfriend. Curious isn't exactly the right word. Intrigued, maybe? Downright surprised? I mean, I didn't really know many men who owned their own pans and used them, with the exception of one (Adam Lord, I am looking at you). And so, on that day, I declared Maria as one of the most fortunate women I knew, as she lived with a man who cooked for her.
I made the cake, and it was a success. A few weeks later, I bought my own cast iron skillet. It's twelve inches around, and heavy as hell. It's a permanent fixture in my kitchen, residing on the stove top, never resigned to the cupboard. I use it every single day.
It's been more than three years since that summer. Maria is no longer a new friend, but instead a very good friend. Over time I got to know Thomas, and I learned that he wasn't just a man in the kitchen, but that he was very smart, and fun, and had such an ease about him that you always felt comfortable in his presence.
At his memorial, Maria said, "We are all better for knowing him." I never told him about my pan purchase. I know if I had, he would have laughed.
Thank you, Thomas, for your friendship and cast iron influence. One day, we'll cook again.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Advocate
I always assumed that given stressful circumstances, it was always more comforting to share such stress with others. That it makes the load lighter; that the sharing of information helps the very person who carries the burden.
But then, very recently, I found myself in a stressful situation, and I was unable to share with the people closest to me. In fact, for someone who considers herself a very terrible secret keeper (unless bound by attorney-client privilege), I did remarkable well. I learned something important: sometimes there are things that scare you so much that you can't talk about them. You can't write about them. You can't even think about them. They are just there, and somehow you just deal with them.
All that being said, I feel capable of writing now. I'll start here.
About eight weeks ago, I made an appointment for an ultrasound to follow-up on the strange mass on my neck. Back in November 2010, my primary care doctor determined that the mass was a swollen lymph node and not a concern, but she wanted a follow-up done in six months. Well, come July 2011, and I'm sitting in my doctor's office discussing the ultrasound results.
Dr: The ultrasound looks great. The mass is just a swollen lymph node.
Me: Why is my lymph node swollen?
Dr: It could be swollen for lots of reasons. You could be fighting an infection, your body could be reacting to something foreign. Lymph nodes swell all the time.
Me: I haven't had a cold since September. I feel great. It doesn't make sense that I have a lymph node that has been swollen for six months.
Dr: Lymph nodes get bigger and smaller all the time.
Me: But mine hasn't gotten smaller.
Dr., sighing: Would you like me to refer you to an ENT? Would you sleep better at night, if I did?
Me: Yes and yes.
*Side note: Does my doctor not read those magazines in nail salons? BECAUSE I DO. Every month there is an article about some woman who didn't follow-up or ignored some strange medical ailment and then ended up with a diagnosis and died within three months. Morale of the story: ALWAYS ADVOCATE FOR YOURSELF. ALWAYS.
A week later, and I am sitting in a medical room, staring at a tray full of equipment that I am sure inspires horror movie directors. The ENT doctor enters. He looks at the ultrasound. He feels my neck. He tells me that lymph nodes get bigger and smaller all the time. That occasionally, a swollen lymph node doesn't get smaller.
This makes me feel better.
Then, he numbs my nose (using an Afrin-like spray) and proceeds to use a 8-inch long "throat telescope" that GOES THROUGH MY FREAKIN' NOSE. He causally mentions that our noses are more flexible than one thinks they are.
Soon I can feel something in the back of my throat. The telescope has reached its destination. Afterward, the doctor seems annoyed and tells me that he didn't see anything unusual. I leave, stopping at Peet's on my way home for a drink, annoyed in my inability to taste the specialty ice tea that I ordered.
Two weeks later, I see my endocrinologist. It's a warm July afternoon. She walks in, and I fully expect her to dismiss me, just as the previous two doctors had. Instead, she looks at my chart and then looks at me.
"I'm concerned."
She tells me that there is a mass on my thyroid. This mass (something that was discovered in November when we were investigating the rogue lymph node) had more than quadrupled in size in the past six months. The unknown rapidly growing mass, combined with the strange relentlessly swollen lymph node, worried her. She told me that a biopsy was necessary.
Then, she started talking about thyroid cancer.
I'm not going to lie. The minute she dropped the "c" word, I mentally checked out. I remember her saying something about how treatments were really good, and how if it were malignant it should be in the early stages. Yada, yada, yada.
I couldn't hear her. My thoughts went immediately to Josh. To Lola. Fear gripped me. I couldn't move. She gave me a pamphlet. I shoved it in my purse. I walked out of the office. I sat in my car and eventually drove myself home. Two days later, I scheduled the biopsy appointment.
Then, I was mum. I couldn't talk about it. While the biopsy itself didn't scare me, (I mean, what's a needle in the neck when you've already had eight inches of tube shoved in your nose?) the potential results terrified me. I couldn't talk about the upcoming appointment. I couldn't even think about it. So instead, we went camping. We spent a week at the beach and I soaked in all the love my niece and nephews and Lola allowed me. It was glorious.
A week later, I found myself in another medical office, this time accompanied by a doctor with an accent like Antonio Banderas and office furniture that resembled a cruise ship.
Antonio: Hoooold still, while I toooouch your neck.
Twenty minutes later, I left the cruise and sat in my car. I held back tears. I refused to allow myself to cry. I felt silly for being upset. On my drive home, I reminded myself of how crazy it would be for me to have cancer. How unlikely. How I didn't have any other symptoms.
The next day, I went to work. I sat in my office. I waited for the phone call from my doctor. She didn't call. At 1:32 PM, I called her. Her nurse took my call.
Nurse: It's benign.
Me, silent.
Nurse: That means, it's non-cancerous.
I thanked her. I hung up the phone. I called Josh. Weight rolled off my shoulders.
The mass is to be monitored by my endocrinologist. And, I am (now) well-versed in the symptoms of thyroid malfunction. A part of me feels lucky. Relieved, thankful, grateful, and very lucky.
But then, very recently, I found myself in a stressful situation, and I was unable to share with the people closest to me. In fact, for someone who considers herself a very terrible secret keeper (unless bound by attorney-client privilege), I did remarkable well. I learned something important: sometimes there are things that scare you so much that you can't talk about them. You can't write about them. You can't even think about them. They are just there, and somehow you just deal with them.
All that being said, I feel capable of writing now. I'll start here.
About eight weeks ago, I made an appointment for an ultrasound to follow-up on the strange mass on my neck. Back in November 2010, my primary care doctor determined that the mass was a swollen lymph node and not a concern, but she wanted a follow-up done in six months. Well, come July 2011, and I'm sitting in my doctor's office discussing the ultrasound results.
Dr: The ultrasound looks great. The mass is just a swollen lymph node.
Me: Why is my lymph node swollen?
Dr: It could be swollen for lots of reasons. You could be fighting an infection, your body could be reacting to something foreign. Lymph nodes swell all the time.
Me: I haven't had a cold since September. I feel great. It doesn't make sense that I have a lymph node that has been swollen for six months.
Dr: Lymph nodes get bigger and smaller all the time.
Me: But mine hasn't gotten smaller.
Dr., sighing: Would you like me to refer you to an ENT? Would you sleep better at night, if I did?
Me: Yes and yes.
*Side note: Does my doctor not read those magazines in nail salons? BECAUSE I DO. Every month there is an article about some woman who didn't follow-up or ignored some strange medical ailment and then ended up with a diagnosis and died within three months. Morale of the story: ALWAYS ADVOCATE FOR YOURSELF. ALWAYS.
A week later, and I am sitting in a medical room, staring at a tray full of equipment that I am sure inspires horror movie directors. The ENT doctor enters. He looks at the ultrasound. He feels my neck. He tells me that lymph nodes get bigger and smaller all the time. That occasionally, a swollen lymph node doesn't get smaller.
This makes me feel better.
Then, he numbs my nose (using an Afrin-like spray) and proceeds to use a 8-inch long "throat telescope" that GOES THROUGH MY FREAKIN' NOSE. He causally mentions that our noses are more flexible than one thinks they are.
Soon I can feel something in the back of my throat. The telescope has reached its destination. Afterward, the doctor seems annoyed and tells me that he didn't see anything unusual. I leave, stopping at Peet's on my way home for a drink, annoyed in my inability to taste the specialty ice tea that I ordered.
Two weeks later, I see my endocrinologist. It's a warm July afternoon. She walks in, and I fully expect her to dismiss me, just as the previous two doctors had. Instead, she looks at my chart and then looks at me.
"I'm concerned."
She tells me that there is a mass on my thyroid. This mass (something that was discovered in November when we were investigating the rogue lymph node) had more than quadrupled in size in the past six months. The unknown rapidly growing mass, combined with the strange relentlessly swollen lymph node, worried her. She told me that a biopsy was necessary.
Then, she started talking about thyroid cancer.
I'm not going to lie. The minute she dropped the "c" word, I mentally checked out. I remember her saying something about how treatments were really good, and how if it were malignant it should be in the early stages. Yada, yada, yada.
I couldn't hear her. My thoughts went immediately to Josh. To Lola. Fear gripped me. I couldn't move. She gave me a pamphlet. I shoved it in my purse. I walked out of the office. I sat in my car and eventually drove myself home. Two days later, I scheduled the biopsy appointment.
Then, I was mum. I couldn't talk about it. While the biopsy itself didn't scare me, (I mean, what's a needle in the neck when you've already had eight inches of tube shoved in your nose?) the potential results terrified me. I couldn't talk about the upcoming appointment. I couldn't even think about it. So instead, we went camping. We spent a week at the beach and I soaked in all the love my niece and nephews and Lola allowed me. It was glorious.
A week later, I found myself in another medical office, this time accompanied by a doctor with an accent like Antonio Banderas and office furniture that resembled a cruise ship.
Antonio: Hoooold still, while I toooouch your neck.
Twenty minutes later, I left the cruise and sat in my car. I held back tears. I refused to allow myself to cry. I felt silly for being upset. On my drive home, I reminded myself of how crazy it would be for me to have cancer. How unlikely. How I didn't have any other symptoms.
The next day, I went to work. I sat in my office. I waited for the phone call from my doctor. She didn't call. At 1:32 PM, I called her. Her nurse took my call.
Nurse: It's benign.
Me, silent.
Nurse: That means, it's non-cancerous.
I thanked her. I hung up the phone. I called Josh. Weight rolled off my shoulders.
The mass is to be monitored by my endocrinologist. And, I am (now) well-versed in the symptoms of thyroid malfunction. A part of me feels lucky. Relieved, thankful, grateful, and very lucky.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Mid-Year Me
I realize that we're past the mid-year mark, but my original post wasn't exactly on New Year's Day either, so I think this is fair.
My New Year's Resolutions:
1. Live a Healthier Life
By focusing on reducing stress, I've found myself benefiting from a side effect that I didn't anticipate: weight loss. In my attempt to live healthier, I've started exercising more and while I don't think it's reduced any stress, I lost 12 pounds and that makes me happy.
2. Utilize my Creativity
I'm making progress on my digital photo album goal. So far, I've organized and printed two books: Beancakes 2009 and Beancakes 2010. Blurb dot com has an awesome feature that allows you to put your blog into book form. I decided that I should do this because my blog is essentially Lola's digital baby album, and printing it as a book eliminates the possibility of Blogger's server crashing and all of Lola's baby memories disappearing into the Black Hole of the Internet.
Other than digital photo albums, I've also been playing with felt. In May, in anticipation of spending some time on an airplane (for our trip to Palm Springs), I made two toys for Lola.
The first one was a little wool house.
The gnome family lives here. They are a bit of an extended family, so I thought it would be best if they could enter and exit through both the front door and the roof.
I also made her a travel bag for her little cars.
The inside of the bag serves as a road.
Each numbered slot is a storage spot for a car. Here, you can see the prius pulling in.
4. Read non-parenting books
I feel like I was really on track with this goal, and then halfway through the third novel in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I began to lose speed and practically stopped. Then, I started reading a book of essays (The Braindead Megaphone), recommended to me by Rachel, and I found myself moving along again. Since then, I've also read How It Ended by Jay McInerary (also a book of essays, this time recommended by Amy) and Thank You for Smoking (recommended by Josh.) I'm currently reading Brave New World (also recommended by Josh), which surprisingly, I've never read before. It's good, but it skates on the edge of my book requirements, so I'm treading lightly.
My New Year's Resolutions:
1. Live a Healthier Life
By focusing on reducing stress, I've found myself benefiting from a side effect that I didn't anticipate: weight loss. In my attempt to live healthier, I've started exercising more and while I don't think it's reduced any stress, I lost 12 pounds and that makes me happy.
2. Utilize my Creativity
I'm making progress on my digital photo album goal. So far, I've organized and printed two books: Beancakes 2009 and Beancakes 2010. Blurb dot com has an awesome feature that allows you to put your blog into book form. I decided that I should do this because my blog is essentially Lola's digital baby album, and printing it as a book eliminates the possibility of Blogger's server crashing and all of Lola's baby memories disappearing into the Black Hole of the Internet.
Other than digital photo albums, I've also been playing with felt. In May, in anticipation of spending some time on an airplane (for our trip to Palm Springs), I made two toys for Lola.
The first one was a little wool house.
The gnome family lives here. They are a bit of an extended family, so I thought it would be best if they could enter and exit through both the front door and the roof.
I also made her a travel bag for her little cars.
The inside of the bag serves as a road.
Each numbered slot is a storage spot for a car. Here, you can see the prius pulling in.
4. Read non-parenting books
I feel like I was really on track with this goal, and then halfway through the third novel in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, I began to lose speed and practically stopped. Then, I started reading a book of essays (The Braindead Megaphone), recommended to me by Rachel, and I found myself moving along again. Since then, I've also read How It Ended by Jay McInerary (also a book of essays, this time recommended by Amy) and Thank You for Smoking (recommended by Josh.) I'm currently reading Brave New World (also recommended by Josh), which surprisingly, I've never read before. It's good, but it skates on the edge of my book requirements, so I'm treading lightly.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Book Club for One
In many ways, I think law school stole a small part of my soul.
It's not like it swooped in and sucked out all the life in me. Law school was such a long, arduous, all-encompassing process. Three years of non-stop briefing for my doctorate, another year of studying statutes for my master's degree, and nearly a year of memorizing laws and outlines as I prepared for the bar exam. By the end of it all, I was exhausted. Those five years created a gaping black hole in my mid-twenties while it simultaneously ruined my love for reading.
Or so, that is what I thought.
I used to love to read. Some of my favorite childhood memories involved going to the local library and carrying home as many books as they allowed me to check out (26.) I specifically picked English as one of my undergraduate majors because I loved my English classes more than any of the others. I used to read and read and read, and I enjoyed it.
Then, I got to law school and I stopped. During my five years of studying law, I did not read a single non-law book. Not one. I tried, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was too tired of reading.
Then, I went on my honeymoon. I read three books:
Wicked
Reading Lolita in Tehran
Eat Pray Love
After returning home, I started studying for the bar exam. That time I read two books (in addition to all of my bar materials):
The Kite Runner
Peace Like a River
(Looking back on this now, it's clear that I had very light reading for my honeymoon, and very dark violent sad books for when I was studying for the bar. Says something about my mood, huh?)
Then, I found out I was pregnant. I can't even begin to list the books that I read, because I read so many that I know I have forgotten the names of most of them. Plus, those are kind of boring, and now that I know Curtis does in fact read my blog, I will refrain from talking about how a cervix dilates and the postpartum state of being. Not that I really talked about those things before, but if there was a time to talk about all the crazy things that I read in those pregnancy books, now would be it. You can thank Curtis for my exercise in restraint.
Continuing on with the time line that is my life.
Two years ago, when Lola was born, I began reading parenting books. Those involved child development, breastfeeding and how to make your child sleep. Since Lola didn't really start sleeping until last October (when she was 20 months old), I re-read the sleep books a few times.
In the meantime, I didn't really read anything else. I bought a few magazines, but was largely disappointed by the current magazine market. Real Simple was boring, Nylon gave me ADD, InStyle had too celebrities, Redbook made me feel old and matronly. The only thing that I found myself reading was the magazine Parents.
That's when I knew I had a problem.
I decided to tackle this issue similarly to how I tackle most problems: by setting a goal, creating rules, and applying psychotic discipline. So, I told Josh that as part of my New Year's Resolutions, he was supposed to pick out books for me. Whatever he picked, I would read. And, I would do this for an entire year, with the hope that by making reading for pleasure a requirement in my life I would fall in love with it once again.
As you can tell from the books mentioned above, most of the time I am drawn to stories involving women, coming of age, or midlife crisis. Josh loves books that involve aliens, zombies, mysteries, and stuff that I classify as weird fantasy-sci-fi-shit.
I was really desperate.
So far, with Josh as my book connoisseur, I have done very well. Since January, I've read:
The Catcher in the Rye
The Incident of the Dog in the Night Time
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (started, but did not finish. It was literally too crazy for me.)
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (book 1)
I'm currently reading Book 2 in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I wasn't intending on reading the second book (there are five total), but the first book really didn't wrap anything up. There is no way that the first book could independently hold its own ground. I have a feeling I will be reading all five books.
I recognize that I've only read four books so far and each book is pretty small, but I consider this to be quite an accomplishment given that I'm usually only able to read for 11 minutes before falling asleep.
It's not like it swooped in and sucked out all the life in me. Law school was such a long, arduous, all-encompassing process. Three years of non-stop briefing for my doctorate, another year of studying statutes for my master's degree, and nearly a year of memorizing laws and outlines as I prepared for the bar exam. By the end of it all, I was exhausted. Those five years created a gaping black hole in my mid-twenties while it simultaneously ruined my love for reading.
Or so, that is what I thought.
I used to love to read. Some of my favorite childhood memories involved going to the local library and carrying home as many books as they allowed me to check out (26.) I specifically picked English as one of my undergraduate majors because I loved my English classes more than any of the others. I used to read and read and read, and I enjoyed it.
Then, I got to law school and I stopped. During my five years of studying law, I did not read a single non-law book. Not one. I tried, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was too tired of reading.
Then, I went on my honeymoon. I read three books:
Wicked
Reading Lolita in Tehran
Eat Pray Love
After returning home, I started studying for the bar exam. That time I read two books (in addition to all of my bar materials):
The Kite Runner
Peace Like a River
(Looking back on this now, it's clear that I had very light reading for my honeymoon, and very dark violent sad books for when I was studying for the bar. Says something about my mood, huh?)
Then, I found out I was pregnant. I can't even begin to list the books that I read, because I read so many that I know I have forgotten the names of most of them. Plus, those are kind of boring, and now that I know Curtis does in fact read my blog, I will refrain from talking about how a cervix dilates and the postpartum state of being. Not that I really talked about those things before, but if there was a time to talk about all the crazy things that I read in those pregnancy books, now would be it. You can thank Curtis for my exercise in restraint.
Continuing on with the time line that is my life.
Two years ago, when Lola was born, I began reading parenting books. Those involved child development, breastfeeding and how to make your child sleep. Since Lola didn't really start sleeping until last October (when she was 20 months old), I re-read the sleep books a few times.
In the meantime, I didn't really read anything else. I bought a few magazines, but was largely disappointed by the current magazine market. Real Simple was boring, Nylon gave me ADD, InStyle had too celebrities, Redbook made me feel old and matronly. The only thing that I found myself reading was the magazine Parents.
That's when I knew I had a problem.
I decided to tackle this issue similarly to how I tackle most problems: by setting a goal, creating rules, and applying psychotic discipline. So, I told Josh that as part of my New Year's Resolutions, he was supposed to pick out books for me. Whatever he picked, I would read. And, I would do this for an entire year, with the hope that by making reading for pleasure a requirement in my life I would fall in love with it once again.
As you can tell from the books mentioned above, most of the time I am drawn to stories involving women, coming of age, or midlife crisis. Josh loves books that involve aliens, zombies, mysteries, and stuff that I classify as weird fantasy-sci-fi-shit.
I was really desperate.
So far, with Josh as my book connoisseur, I have done very well. Since January, I've read:
The Catcher in the Rye
The Incident of the Dog in the Night Time
One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (started, but did not finish. It was literally too crazy for me.)
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (book 1)
I'm currently reading Book 2 in the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I wasn't intending on reading the second book (there are five total), but the first book really didn't wrap anything up. There is no way that the first book could independently hold its own ground. I have a feeling I will be reading all five books.
I recognize that I've only read four books so far and each book is pretty small, but I consider this to be quite an accomplishment given that I'm usually only able to read for 11 minutes before falling asleep.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
A belated, but necessary, post
I'm such a slacker. The beginning of March has flown by, mostly because we spent the last week traveling around Southern California visiting family, eating food that we can only eat while on vacation, and holding babies. (More on that later.)
But, I've also found it difficult to motivate myself to sit down and write because, while I typically write about Lola's latest adventures, lately I find myself wanting to write more about myself and then I feel this weird maternal guilt because the blog is really for her yet I'm too lazy to start another blog for myself, resulting in me just not writing anything at all. (This run-on sentence fully demonstrates the back-and-forth arguments that go on in my head.)
The overall theme of my New Year Resolutions for 2011 was to focus more on myself, and less on Lola. She is only two years old, and yet I already see myself going down that typical fateful mothering path of putting needs of everyone else at the top of my To Do list while I wait patiently in the back looking for more time and energy to (magically) appear so that I can then do something for myself. (These feelings have been solidified by the newest season of The Biggest Loser. Not that I am obese, but I can see how easily people get to that place.)
My New Year Resolutions:
1. Live a healthier life.
I want to be stronger, physically and mentally. Oftentimes, I over analyze situations and then stress out to the point of where things become ridiculous. I need to fix that. I want to become more grateful for the things and people I have in my life and less envious of the things I do not have. I want to be able to go for a 30 minute run and not feel like I am going to have an asthma attack, and I want to eat less sugar. (I am a total sugar junkie.)
2. Utilize my creativity.My profession is pretty cut and dry. I spend most of my days reading forms and statutes and regulations, and then crunch a bunch of numbers. As much as I would like to think that I use creativity while working on my cases, I really don't. Not at all. Instead, I daydream about assembling my personal cookbook, sewing new curtains, and building a corner library for the bean. This year, I want to finish my digital photo book projects (uh, wedding photos) and pull out the pattern for the purse that I bought the fabric for, oh so long ago, and actually make the purse, and work on my Amanda Bean drafts.
3. Read non-parenting books.
This is a big one. When I found out I was pregnant in June 2008, I, being the researcher that I am, began reading every pregnancy/child development/breastfeeding book that I came into contact with. Since then, I haven't really stopped, and I haven't read any other genre either. I've certainly tried, but I ever book that I picked up, I ended up putting down, unfinished. At one point, I was so frustrated that I stopped attempting to read books all together and turned to magazines. It was then that I also realized there were no magazines out there that I enjoyed. It's clear that my taste and attention span has changed. That's when I decided that I needed to make book-reading one of my resolutions. I have set a few ground rules (subsections to my resolution, if I so may):
a) The book can't involve any sort of rape or sexual assault of women or children.
b) No incest.
c) No dying dogs.
d) Josh is in charge of picking out all of my books. (So far, this has been very interesting, but I will save the details for another post.)
So far, and for the first time in a very long time, I'm doing very well on my resolutions. I'm happy that I set some this year, and if you don't mind, I will be writing some more about them here.
But, I've also found it difficult to motivate myself to sit down and write because, while I typically write about Lola's latest adventures, lately I find myself wanting to write more about myself and then I feel this weird maternal guilt because the blog is really for her yet I'm too lazy to start another blog for myself, resulting in me just not writing anything at all. (This run-on sentence fully demonstrates the back-and-forth arguments that go on in my head.)
The overall theme of my New Year Resolutions for 2011 was to focus more on myself, and less on Lola. She is only two years old, and yet I already see myself going down that typical fateful mothering path of putting needs of everyone else at the top of my To Do list while I wait patiently in the back looking for more time and energy to (magically) appear so that I can then do something for myself. (These feelings have been solidified by the newest season of The Biggest Loser. Not that I am obese, but I can see how easily people get to that place.)
My New Year Resolutions:
1. Live a healthier life.
I want to be stronger, physically and mentally. Oftentimes, I over analyze situations and then stress out to the point of where things become ridiculous. I need to fix that. I want to become more grateful for the things and people I have in my life and less envious of the things I do not have. I want to be able to go for a 30 minute run and not feel like I am going to have an asthma attack, and I want to eat less sugar. (I am a total sugar junkie.)
2. Utilize my creativity.My profession is pretty cut and dry. I spend most of my days reading forms and statutes and regulations, and then crunch a bunch of numbers. As much as I would like to think that I use creativity while working on my cases, I really don't. Not at all. Instead, I daydream about assembling my personal cookbook, sewing new curtains, and building a corner library for the bean. This year, I want to finish my digital photo book projects (uh, wedding photos) and pull out the pattern for the purse that I bought the fabric for, oh so long ago, and actually make the purse, and work on my Amanda Bean drafts.
3. Read non-parenting books.
This is a big one. When I found out I was pregnant in June 2008, I, being the researcher that I am, began reading every pregnancy/child development/breastfeeding book that I came into contact with. Since then, I haven't really stopped, and I haven't read any other genre either. I've certainly tried, but I ever book that I picked up, I ended up putting down, unfinished. At one point, I was so frustrated that I stopped attempting to read books all together and turned to magazines. It was then that I also realized there were no magazines out there that I enjoyed. It's clear that my taste and attention span has changed. That's when I decided that I needed to make book-reading one of my resolutions. I have set a few ground rules (subsections to my resolution, if I so may):
a) The book can't involve any sort of rape or sexual assault of women or children.
b) No incest.
c) No dying dogs.
d) Josh is in charge of picking out all of my books. (So far, this has been very interesting, but I will save the details for another post.)
So far, and for the first time in a very long time, I'm doing very well on my resolutions. I'm happy that I set some this year, and if you don't mind, I will be writing some more about them here.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
This Lump in my Throat
I don't remember exactly what I was doing when I found it. It was a Saturday afternoon. Lola was napping. Josh was shopping online for Christmas presents when I burst into the room.
"Feel this," I said, placing his hand onto the front of my neck. "Do you feel that?"
"No....Wait. Yeah."
Damn. Confirmation that I was not indeed imagining something.
"What is that?" he asked, placing his finger on top of the small pea-size lump.
"I don't know."
"You should have a doctor look at it."
--------
On Monday morning, I called my doctor. The receptionist offered an appointment on Tuesday. I told her, I'd see her at four o'clock.
-------
When the doctor examined me, I talked nervously. I told him that I was the healthiest person I knew. How I was so healthy, that after my life insurance physical, my life insurance company offered me a higher policy at the same premium price. I bragged about not being on any medications. How I've never smoked a cigarette in my life. How I don't drink. That I love to exercise.
He asked me if anyone in my family had ever been diagnosed with cancer.
He told me that he couldn't tell if it was in my lymph nodes. But that it wasn't necessarily in my thyroid either. That he didn't know what it was.
Great.
He asked me if I had difficulty swallowing. If I felt a lump in my throat.
He wanted lab work. An ultrasound.
These things didn't scare me. I've done labs before. An ultrasound sounded good to me.
But, then, he said these things needed to be accomplished "ASAP." I needed to fast tonight and go get labs done in the morning. I needed to schedule the ultrasound immediately.
He was urgent. He started to use words like, "now" and "necessary" and "don't delay." He wore a serious expression.
My heart started to pound. I walked out of the office with directions to the lab, and an ultrasound order in my hand. Thankfully, my drive home was short. My mind kept bouncing back and forth between, "You're fine. You're going to be fine. This isn't a big deal. These are just tests." and "What if I need to have surgery? What if I have --?"
----
For ten days, I panicked. I double-checked my estate planning documents (yes, I have those.) I convinced Josh that we should upgrade our Christmas tree, you know, just in case this was my last Christmas. I ate all of my favorite foods guilt-free.
Then, I got the results.
I was fine.
The labs? Perfect. The lump? An enlarged lymph node. The cause? Maybe some sort of infection, an oncoming cold, allergies, anything really. No need for surgery. No need to be concerned.
I was so relieved, and really, more than anything, felt lucky. The universe had spared me, at least for now.
"Feel this," I said, placing his hand onto the front of my neck. "Do you feel that?"
"No....Wait. Yeah."
Damn. Confirmation that I was not indeed imagining something.
"What is that?" he asked, placing his finger on top of the small pea-size lump.
"I don't know."
"You should have a doctor look at it."
--------
On Monday morning, I called my doctor. The receptionist offered an appointment on Tuesday. I told her, I'd see her at four o'clock.
-------
When the doctor examined me, I talked nervously. I told him that I was the healthiest person I knew. How I was so healthy, that after my life insurance physical, my life insurance company offered me a higher policy at the same premium price. I bragged about not being on any medications. How I've never smoked a cigarette in my life. How I don't drink. That I love to exercise.
He asked me if anyone in my family had ever been diagnosed with cancer.
He told me that he couldn't tell if it was in my lymph nodes. But that it wasn't necessarily in my thyroid either. That he didn't know what it was.
Great.
He asked me if I had difficulty swallowing. If I felt a lump in my throat.
He wanted lab work. An ultrasound.
These things didn't scare me. I've done labs before. An ultrasound sounded good to me.
But, then, he said these things needed to be accomplished "ASAP." I needed to fast tonight and go get labs done in the morning. I needed to schedule the ultrasound immediately.
He was urgent. He started to use words like, "now" and "necessary" and "don't delay." He wore a serious expression.
My heart started to pound. I walked out of the office with directions to the lab, and an ultrasound order in my hand. Thankfully, my drive home was short. My mind kept bouncing back and forth between, "You're fine. You're going to be fine. This isn't a big deal. These are just tests." and "What if I need to have surgery? What if I have --?"
----
For ten days, I panicked. I double-checked my estate planning documents (yes, I have those.) I convinced Josh that we should upgrade our Christmas tree, you know, just in case this was my last Christmas. I ate all of my favorite foods guilt-free.
Then, I got the results.
I was fine.
The labs? Perfect. The lump? An enlarged lymph node. The cause? Maybe some sort of infection, an oncoming cold, allergies, anything really. No need for surgery. No need to be concerned.
I was so relieved, and really, more than anything, felt lucky. The universe had spared me, at least for now.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Second Nap
One thing that I've learned after reading countless parenting books, magazines, and online articles, is that the best thing to do is to ignore all said publications and just do what works best for you.
I'm pretty sure everyone that reads this blog knows that Lola is a terrible sleeper.
That she, for the past 17 months, wakes up 2, 3, 4 times a night.
That sometimes when she wakes up, she stays up, for up to an hour.
That we've tried the No-Cry, Co-sleeping, and the Cry It Out methods.
That because of Josh's work schedule, I am the one who gets up with her each night.
That because of her irregular sleep patterns, I haven't slept more than 4 hours straight since her birth.
That all of this has created an enormous amount of stress in both my individual life and in our marriage.
Well, I am happy to announce, that we think we found a solution (and NO, it's not a night nanny, benedryl, or alcohol.)
Lola takes second nap.
Second nap is this thing we created because we needed a break. And, after what seems like forever of her not sleeping good at night, somehow second nap has solved this problem.
This is how it works: Lola goes down for a nap in her crib around 1 PM or so. Then, she wakes up at 2:30 in a sort of delusional state. (Talking to herself, crying, etc.) Josh goes into her room, picks her up, and she lays her head on his shoulder. She instantly falls back asleep. Then, Josh either brings her out into the living room where they sleep on the couch. Usually she sleeps until 4:30 or 5 PM.
Once she is up, we play and eat dinner, and then start her bedtime routine around 7:30. She falls asleep in her crib around 8:30 and then SLEEPS UNTIL 5 AM. Then, I go and bring her into bed with me and we sleep until 6:30 or so.
Did you catch that? She doesn't wake up. SHE SLEEPS FROM 8:30 PM to 5 AM.
THAT IS EIGHT AND A HALF HOURS.
Not like I'm counting.
Second nap has improved our lives tremendously. Josh and I are arguing less, I can focus more on whatever task I am tackling, and the other day a co-worker told me that I looked "rested."
Dark circles? Angry demeanor? Try second nap!
I'm pretty sure everyone that reads this blog knows that Lola is a terrible sleeper.
That she, for the past 17 months, wakes up 2, 3, 4 times a night.
That sometimes when she wakes up, she stays up, for up to an hour.
That we've tried the No-Cry, Co-sleeping, and the Cry It Out methods.
That because of Josh's work schedule, I am the one who gets up with her each night.
That because of her irregular sleep patterns, I haven't slept more than 4 hours straight since her birth.
That all of this has created an enormous amount of stress in both my individual life and in our marriage.
Well, I am happy to announce, that we think we found a solution (and NO, it's not a night nanny, benedryl, or alcohol.)
Lola takes second nap.
Second nap is this thing we created because we needed a break. And, after what seems like forever of her not sleeping good at night, somehow second nap has solved this problem.
This is how it works: Lola goes down for a nap in her crib around 1 PM or so. Then, she wakes up at 2:30 in a sort of delusional state. (Talking to herself, crying, etc.) Josh goes into her room, picks her up, and she lays her head on his shoulder. She instantly falls back asleep. Then, Josh either brings her out into the living room where they sleep on the couch. Usually she sleeps until 4:30 or 5 PM.
Once she is up, we play and eat dinner, and then start her bedtime routine around 7:30. She falls asleep in her crib around 8:30 and then SLEEPS UNTIL 5 AM. Then, I go and bring her into bed with me and we sleep until 6:30 or so.
Did you catch that? She doesn't wake up. SHE SLEEPS FROM 8:30 PM to 5 AM.
THAT IS EIGHT AND A HALF HOURS.
Not like I'm counting.
Second nap has improved our lives tremendously. Josh and I are arguing less, I can focus more on whatever task I am tackling, and the other day a co-worker told me that I looked "rested."
Dark circles? Angry demeanor? Try second nap!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
untitled
Last night, in an attempt to locate Josh's frequent flier number, I dug out my old day planner. I suppose using the word "dig" is a misnomer. I knew exactly where it was located. In the summer of 2008, when we moved into this house, I placed my day planner on a shelf on my closet and left it there. Until that is, last night.
Picking it up, it felt strange to me. I had forgotten how heavy it was. It was thick, because when I was in law school and then later, when I was acquiring my master's, I used to love to plan out my days, thus I used a system that allowed each day its own individual page. My planner, all 365 pages, was dearly loved.
As I flipped through its pages, I slowed down when I came across the month of February. "Study community property," "Practice multiple choice questions," and "Memorize California evidence rules" were common entries. Then, near the end of the month, taking up a three page spread, "Bar Exam" was highlighted in bright orange. The next day was blank.
The months of March, April, and May were filled with notes and schedules from the track team that I used to coach. Workout plans, parent phone numbers, and directions to different high schools were written on its pages.
The first few days of June were marked with job interview information. A phone number for a recruiter. The address of a firm in Los Angeles.
Then, on June 11th, there was a circle around 1 PM. Next to it, scribbled in pencil, was the word "utlrasound."
Looking at that page brought back a rush of emotion. I remembered sitting in my car, outside my office, calling my OB-GYN. Telling them that I had a positive pregnancy test. Telling them that I was certain that I was not pregnant. Telling them that I must be a false-positive. Shaking as I wrote ultrasound on the page. Scared that something might be going on that I would have no control over, something that I had not planned.
My notes on days following June 11th were sparse. "Start packing" said June 28. "Start new job" on July 21. After July, the days were blank and empty.
Holding my planner, I knew that for the later part of 2008, I started consolidating all of my appointments on my computer in Outlook. The planner wasn't necessarily discarded because I no longer made plans. It was just that my plans no longer fit into its daily, pale blue lines.
I remember entering "due date" on February 3 into my outlook calendar, then changing it a few weeks later to February 5, and then even later to February 6. Finally, at some point I gave up, frustrated by the fact that my midwife couldn't provide me with an absolute certain date. I deleted the notation altogether, determined to try something new, attempting to roll with it.
For 2009, I didn't even buy a day planner. In May 2009, I realized my mistake, but felt it was too late to make such a purchase. Besides, it felt like life was moving forward so rapidly. The days blended into the nights, the weeks absorbed by weekends, and soon it was August, then October, and finally December. I felt like the entire year escaped me. Not that it wasn't documented, because it was, here and in Lola's baby journal, but nothing was really planned.
While I've come to accept that life moves forward, and can do so joyously without any real planning, there is a part of me that longs for order and stability and scheduling. After all I am a lawyer, and I became a lawyer by way of planning and plotting my life out on those pale blue pages.
Knowing this, I purchased a small day planner for 2010. It's no Franklin Covey, as I can no longer afford such luxury, and an entire week is mapped out in two pages. Whimsical blue flowers grace its white cover and so far, its pages contain notes on doctor appointments, a running list of people to whom I owe thank you notes, and date reminders of celebratory occasions.
And perhaps, best of all, it captivates Lola. She, the one who taught me that sometimes the greatest events of our lives are not planned, pats its cover gently and quietly turns its pages with her tiny fingers. Have I found a happy-medium? I don't know, but I feel like the answer is maybe.
Picking it up, it felt strange to me. I had forgotten how heavy it was. It was thick, because when I was in law school and then later, when I was acquiring my master's, I used to love to plan out my days, thus I used a system that allowed each day its own individual page. My planner, all 365 pages, was dearly loved.
As I flipped through its pages, I slowed down when I came across the month of February. "Study community property," "Practice multiple choice questions," and "Memorize California evidence rules" were common entries. Then, near the end of the month, taking up a three page spread, "Bar Exam" was highlighted in bright orange. The next day was blank.
The months of March, April, and May were filled with notes and schedules from the track team that I used to coach. Workout plans, parent phone numbers, and directions to different high schools were written on its pages.
The first few days of June were marked with job interview information. A phone number for a recruiter. The address of a firm in Los Angeles.
Then, on June 11th, there was a circle around 1 PM. Next to it, scribbled in pencil, was the word "utlrasound."
Looking at that page brought back a rush of emotion. I remembered sitting in my car, outside my office, calling my OB-GYN. Telling them that I had a positive pregnancy test. Telling them that I was certain that I was not pregnant. Telling them that I must be a false-positive. Shaking as I wrote ultrasound on the page. Scared that something might be going on that I would have no control over, something that I had not planned.
My notes on days following June 11th were sparse. "Start packing" said June 28. "Start new job" on July 21. After July, the days were blank and empty.
Holding my planner, I knew that for the later part of 2008, I started consolidating all of my appointments on my computer in Outlook. The planner wasn't necessarily discarded because I no longer made plans. It was just that my plans no longer fit into its daily, pale blue lines.
I remember entering "due date" on February 3 into my outlook calendar, then changing it a few weeks later to February 5, and then even later to February 6. Finally, at some point I gave up, frustrated by the fact that my midwife couldn't provide me with an absolute certain date. I deleted the notation altogether, determined to try something new, attempting to roll with it.
For 2009, I didn't even buy a day planner. In May 2009, I realized my mistake, but felt it was too late to make such a purchase. Besides, it felt like life was moving forward so rapidly. The days blended into the nights, the weeks absorbed by weekends, and soon it was August, then October, and finally December. I felt like the entire year escaped me. Not that it wasn't documented, because it was, here and in Lola's baby journal, but nothing was really planned.
While I've come to accept that life moves forward, and can do so joyously without any real planning, there is a part of me that longs for order and stability and scheduling. After all I am a lawyer, and I became a lawyer by way of planning and plotting my life out on those pale blue pages.
Knowing this, I purchased a small day planner for 2010. It's no Franklin Covey, as I can no longer afford such luxury, and an entire week is mapped out in two pages. Whimsical blue flowers grace its white cover and so far, its pages contain notes on doctor appointments, a running list of people to whom I owe thank you notes, and date reminders of celebratory occasions.
And perhaps, best of all, it captivates Lola. She, the one who taught me that sometimes the greatest events of our lives are not planned, pats its cover gently and quietly turns its pages with her tiny fingers. Have I found a happy-medium? I don't know, but I feel like the answer is maybe.
Monday, January 25, 2010
For once, maternal guilt saves the day.
Tonight, while we waited for Josh to finish making dinner, Lola and I sat on the living room floor. My laptop sat on my legs and Lola sat with her red plastic bucket. I browsed Amazon, as she looked at her colorful shape-shaped blocks that were spread across the carpet.
Lola picked up a blue circle. She examined it, as if she were trying to decide whether it was worthy of sticking into her mouth for a quick nibble before retiring it to the bucket. Without mouthing it, she tossed it in the bucket. Her next choice was a yellow triangle. She throws it in the bucket without hesistation.
Watching how thoughtful she was being with her blocks, I began to feel guilty for looking at Amazon rather than engaging my baby in play. I put the laptop to the side and scooted closer to Lola.
"What's this? A green square?" She gripped it tightly, and began to move it toward her mouth.
"Wait, Lola. I think there's some kiwi on it, or something." I could see something black and hanging off the side of the square. I pryed the shape from her fingers.
"Let Mommy fix it and then, you can have it -- OMGWHATTHEJOSHHELP WOOORRRMMMMMM!"
Hanging off the tip of my finger was a small slimy black worm with its insides on its outsides. A nasty bloody worm that moments ago almost made its way into my sweet baby girl's mouth.
Now that my friends, is some mother's intuition.
Lola picked up a blue circle. She examined it, as if she were trying to decide whether it was worthy of sticking into her mouth for a quick nibble before retiring it to the bucket. Without mouthing it, she tossed it in the bucket. Her next choice was a yellow triangle. She throws it in the bucket without hesistation.
Watching how thoughtful she was being with her blocks, I began to feel guilty for looking at Amazon rather than engaging my baby in play. I put the laptop to the side and scooted closer to Lola.
"What's this? A green square?" She gripped it tightly, and began to move it toward her mouth.
"Wait, Lola. I think there's some kiwi on it, or something." I could see something black and hanging off the side of the square. I pryed the shape from her fingers.
"Let Mommy fix it and then, you can have it -- OMGWHATTHEJOSHHELP WOOORRRMMMMMM!"
Hanging off the tip of my finger was a small slimy black worm with its insides on its outsides. A nasty bloody worm that moments ago almost made its way into my sweet baby girl's mouth.
Now that my friends, is some mother's intuition.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Farewell
Dear Volvo,
I'm sorry we had to end things this way, but I guess it just wasn't mean't to be. See, you can't spew emissions out into the environment and think that it's OK. We live in California (see below) and that sort of behavior just isn't tolerated.
Besides, I need more stability in my life. I need some reliablity. I have a baby now and that sort of changes everything. I need accident aversion, not just impact protection.
And just so you know, this has nothing to do with the new Camry in my life. Had you been able to get your act together and just pass the stupid smog test, we would still be together. Yes, this is your fault, not mine.
Love,
d
I'm sorry we had to end things this way, but I guess it just wasn't mean't to be. See, you can't spew emissions out into the environment and think that it's OK. We live in California (see below) and that sort of behavior just isn't tolerated.
Besides, I need more stability in my life. I need some reliablity. I have a baby now and that sort of changes everything. I need accident aversion, not just impact protection.
And just so you know, this has nothing to do with the new Camry in my life. Had you been able to get your act together and just pass the stupid smog test, we would still be together. Yes, this is your fault, not mine.
Love,
d
Monday, August 31, 2009
If You Like It, Then You Should Have Put a Ring on It
On my way into work this morning, I listened to Beyonce.
What, you say? Beyonce? Yes, in fact I did. I listened to Beyonce, then some Britney and Rhianna. Rounding out all the hip hop was my favorite angry girl rock song of the moment by Metric. In the past, this playlist was reserved for the 45 minutes leading up to kick-off or the start of a 100 meter sprint. Today, it was used for lawyering.
It's funny how you revert back to the things you know best during the times when you don't know what to do.
See today, I spoke at my very first hearing. I presented two cases during oral argument. In both cases, the board's votes were in my favor. I won.
When I write it out, it sounds very simple.
In some ways, it was simple. Months ago, I read the files, determined what issues existed, researched the law, applied the law to the facts, and came to a conclusion. And while today, I knew the facts, the issues, the law, the application of it all, I was still nervous about the oral arguments.
Minutes before I was called to speak, a familiar feeling crept into my stomach. It was the same feeling I used to get when it was time to crawl into the blocks on the track. I would go through a routine. Jump. Jump. Stretch. Knees pressed to the all-weather surface, hands steady on the line. The official would say, "SET." A rise to the starting position. Then, the gun and a race to the finish line.
One of the principles that I loved about track & field, was that the focus was always about obtaining your personal best. It was a battle of You versus The Stopwatch. While medaling was ideal, it was also an afterthought of sorts. The goal was always to do the best that YOU could do.
With my stomach turning, I focused on what I knew and tried to do my best to clearly articulate this content to my audience. A few minutes into my opening statement, I relaxed and everything flowed. I was able to confidently answer questions. I put together coherent sentences. I didn't stumble over my word choices.
I believe today was a successful start. It was not perfect, but I'm okay with a satisfactory performance. It was good enough to set a standard for myself, one that I can work to improve upon with each new opportunity. And, believe it or not, I did it all with a Beyonce song stuck in my head.
What, you say? Beyonce? Yes, in fact I did. I listened to Beyonce, then some Britney and Rhianna. Rounding out all the hip hop was my favorite angry girl rock song of the moment by Metric. In the past, this playlist was reserved for the 45 minutes leading up to kick-off or the start of a 100 meter sprint. Today, it was used for lawyering.
It's funny how you revert back to the things you know best during the times when you don't know what to do.
See today, I spoke at my very first hearing. I presented two cases during oral argument. In both cases, the board's votes were in my favor. I won.
When I write it out, it sounds very simple.
In some ways, it was simple. Months ago, I read the files, determined what issues existed, researched the law, applied the law to the facts, and came to a conclusion. And while today, I knew the facts, the issues, the law, the application of it all, I was still nervous about the oral arguments.
Minutes before I was called to speak, a familiar feeling crept into my stomach. It was the same feeling I used to get when it was time to crawl into the blocks on the track. I would go through a routine. Jump. Jump. Stretch. Knees pressed to the all-weather surface, hands steady on the line. The official would say, "SET." A rise to the starting position. Then, the gun and a race to the finish line.
One of the principles that I loved about track & field, was that the focus was always about obtaining your personal best. It was a battle of You versus The Stopwatch. While medaling was ideal, it was also an afterthought of sorts. The goal was always to do the best that YOU could do.
With my stomach turning, I focused on what I knew and tried to do my best to clearly articulate this content to my audience. A few minutes into my opening statement, I relaxed and everything flowed. I was able to confidently answer questions. I put together coherent sentences. I didn't stumble over my word choices.
I believe today was a successful start. It was not perfect, but I'm okay with a satisfactory performance. It was good enough to set a standard for myself, one that I can work to improve upon with each new opportunity. And, believe it or not, I did it all with a Beyonce song stuck in my head.
Friday, August 7, 2009
6 months
It's true. Today, our little Lola Jane reached the six month mark. I have no monthly stats to report because we don't have a doctor's appointment this month, so instead, I think I will list of of my own milestones because let's admit it, this is also my six month mommy mark:
1. I can sleep in three hour increments at night and in the morning be a functioning lawyer,
2. I can read (and reply to) emails while, at the same time, breastfeeding Lola.
3. I finally figured out how to fold and unfold the stroller,
4. I can rinse poopy diapers without gagging,
5. I can give Lola a bath, all my self,
6. I blog about something other than law school,
7. I can send the look of death to total strangers who ask, "How old is he?"
8. I am capable of killing spiders, in order to protect my little babe,
9. I can describe, in great detail, the different types of cloth diapers that exist,
and, the most impressive milestone?
10. I can, at the same time, breastfeed and clip baby finger nails.
SHA-BAM.
Now, back to the bean.
Taking photos of Lola this month was a bit more difficult for two reasons: (1) Gizmo believes she gets to take part of these photo shoots,
1. I can sleep in three hour increments at night and in the morning be a functioning lawyer,
2. I can read (and reply to) emails while, at the same time, breastfeeding Lola.
3. I finally figured out how to fold and unfold the stroller,
4. I can rinse poopy diapers without gagging,
5. I can give Lola a bath, all my self,
6. I blog about something other than law school,
7. I can send the look of death to total strangers who ask, "How old is he?"
8. I am capable of killing spiders, in order to protect my little babe,
9. I can describe, in great detail, the different types of cloth diapers that exist,
and, the most impressive milestone?
10. I can, at the same time, breastfeed and clip baby finger nails.
SHA-BAM.
Now, back to the bean.
Taking photos of Lola this month was a bit more difficult for two reasons: (1) Gizmo believes she gets to take part of these photo shoots,
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