Friday, August 29, 2008

Jack

Here's the latest...
Jack and Daddy took the trip to Shriner Hospital in St. Louis last week. They hitched a ride with the sweet men from our local Shriner Temple.
Bright and early the following morning, Jack saw an opthomologist and then our team of rheumatologists. Jack's eyes checked out fine- a good thing since the inflammation that comes along with arthritis can move into the eyes and cause serious damage.
The rheumatologists were pleased with Jack's progress. Considering the state Jack was in last Christmas verses now, he almost seems normal. The steroid rounds did their job and helped knock down the swelling and inflammation in his feet and knees. But still, there is lingering stiffness and swelling. We are upping the chemo drug to combat these stubborn symptoms and if a couple of months on the higher dose doesn't work, we will begin steroid injectionis into Jack's feet and ankles.

I am very hopeful that all traces of arthritis will be gone someday soon. It is only occasionally that Jack's limp will reappear and it reminds me that he is unwell. It jolts me back and I catch my breath. I forget that he may be suffering from aches in his joints, possibly on a daily basis.
His vocabulary is slowly increasing and he is delighted when we understand him. He has a sweet, happy heart and loves to play and wrestle. He is such a boy! I love to watch his "manliness" because it is purely instinctual. He is surrounded with girls and dress up and highheels and lipgloss, yet he wants to stomp and throw and pound and make firetruck sounds. I love how his little ears perk up at the sound of the trains and how he runs to the front window to watch the garbage men load the truck. He will yell, "a choo-choo" or "a twuck" from the backseat until he is acknowledged. I love it.

Sweet, sweet boy. So beautiful. So perfect.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

busy signal


I remember a good friend threatening never to call me again if didn't buck it up and get call waiting. She couldn't stand ever present busy signal.

My life has spiraled into busy signal lately. Since returning from our trip, we have been on fast-forward speed.
Here's what's been going on (and excuse me, this will be a run-on):
we are in our fourth week of homeschooling;
our house is still on the market and although I fail miserably most of the time, I try very hard to keep it tidy and clean on a daily, almost moment by moment basis;
I have been canning... peach preserves, blackberry jam, pears, and applesauce and baking bread;
sewing;
preparing for our consignment sale- a HUGE, HUGE, HUGE task,
trying to pull my head together into a gameplan/lesson plan for the art class I am teaching at the end of September;
walking and running faithfully;
going to bed early because I get up at the crack;
cleaning out;
celebrating birthdays;
cooking and cleaning the kitchen, cooking and cleaning the kitchen, cooking and cleaning the kitchen;
and tackling the ever present laundry pile.

What I have not been doing:
blogging,
reading my favorite blogs,
talking on the phone and keeping touch with people,
remembering birthdays,
answering emails in a timely manner,
reading,
picking my tomatoes or watering my garden,
sudoku,
singing,
watching TV (except for Olympic gymnastics),
spending time with friends.

In 17 days I am leaving for Scotland. A trip over seas to spend 10 days with my dearest friend, Rachael. I am giddy with excitement to think I will finally see her house, her baby boy, her life. I haven't been to visit since 2002. Thank you for the gift of time and generous ticket to get away.
Thank you to my sweet fireman for being willing to let me fly away from our nest to a fairy land, far away. I will hate to see it all without you and the kids.

I will enjoy being alone.

Changing subjects now...

I laid in my bed the eve of my last birthday. I cried myself to sleep, swearing to myself, that I would not let another birthday come and go and I would still feel miserable in my skin.
My neighbor and sweet friend and hairdresser, fellow canner and baker, sharer of groceries and garden tips, also became my walking partner, my alarm clock, and in a way, my conscience and accountability partner on this quest for health and contentment with my body. We have been kicking each other out of bed for the last 4 months at all hours of the early morning. Pardon my crass-ness, but as my cousin would say, "it's not the crack of dawn, it's the butt crack of dawn!" And I would have to agree. I am not always Miss Sunshine when we are negotiating wake up times. I try to squeeze every last minute out of her.
Together we have pushed our bodies and helped kick the habit of over-eating and over-indulgence. (OK, as I was writing this I realized what time it was and just called and made our appointment- AND and loser friend that I am, I woke her up. Poor D. I am so sorry for waking you! please don't leave without me!!)
So thank you friend, for working with me. I push and shove and you tell me to buck up when I whine too much. Thank you for giving me a hard time when I eat the bad stuff and for being honest when I ask if my pants are too tight.
So my birthday is still four months away and I have definitely made changes. I am 20 lbs lighter. I am wearing clothes I haven't been able to fit my big fat toe into in over six years. I am a cup size smaller... that's huge. I still have chronic back pain but I think that has nothing to do with weight- more with three back-labor babies.
The scale is stuck for now. I am hovering on the dreaded plateau. But I know I will break through and out of it soon. I can. I will. I must. I want to revel in this new body- and I will.... when 5 more pounds melt away.

I have been thinking of the disconnect I allow myself. The disconnect happens in my heart and creeps into my mind. I push away the hurts and eat myself through them. I shove down the feelings and buy bigger sizes. I stuff my mouth and tummy to take away the emptiness. And I feel relieved for a moment.
I think we all struggle with areas of disconnect. What I mean is this: We go numb. We beat ourselves up over stuff. We live in a state of perpetual regret until we just take the phone off the hook and walk away from our lives. We stop thinking and stop living in the teeny, tiny, private moments.
Don't lose yourself over things. Don't disconnect. BUT don't put yourself out there in situations that influence you to make a big mistake of the whole weekend, the whole whole night, the whole meal. If you are having an issue with saying no to something then just back off and don't go until you feel like you are confident in your ability to say it out loud.
As for the waking up and feeling stupid and regretful, move on. There is something to say for repentance, sure. I think you need to think of life as one series of choices.... and to grow in wisdom you must begin using the beautiful, extraordinary brain that God gave you to make right choices about stuff- ONE choice at a time. Just because you made a bad choice last night, or the night before, or a year ago doesn't mean that you are destined to be screwed up. What is that fabulous thing my friend always says? "your mistakes don't define you" (I will amend that with "unless you allow them to".) I am in control and need to make healthy choices- but just one at a time. If I choose to flagrantly and knowingly, living in the moment, make a wrong or unhealthy choice, so be it... just so that I am making that choice from my gut. Then why regret it? I am making the decision knowing the consequences. I know I am making a wrong or unhealthy choice. This is living. This is staying connected. This is knowing myself- with all of my flaws and ticks and shadows and beauty spots. It's the coasting through the days, the seasons, my life- allowing myself to just "get by". These are the days. Don't shut off your thinking brain, your conscience, your heart. Don't disconnect and allow yours mind and heart to flat line with a busy signal of regret. That is a terrible and tragic waste of beauty and truth.

Thank you friends, who push me to stay connected. Thank you for being persistent and seeing through my excuses. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for telling me to quit being a baby and buck it up. Thank you.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

fresh air

Thank You Jesus for the cool breeze and much needed rain. I have had my windows open for 2 days now and it's August in Oklahoma. The temperature is twenty degrees below average. This is a little unsettling, but I won't dwell on global warming right now... only that for moments, here and there in my day, I can pretend that I am at home in Seattle.

Speaking of Seattle I have not taken the time to write about our trip to the Northwest last month. I haven't for a variety of reasons. I miss Seattle and things Northwest so much that I can hardly wrap my words around my feelings without starting a crying a jag... and since that has been my mode of operation lately, I just couldn't risk it.

But with the fresh breeze and break in Oklahoma weather, I am feeling a change in mood. We have many things going on in our house. School began two weeks ago and my creative projects have picked up as well. I am trying to carve out time for certain crafts that will be put in a show in October (pictures of finished products will come later.)

Today I need to write about home.
One of the most precious and spectacular blessings we have received this year (or ever, for that matter) was the gift of two plane tickets and a trip to Seattle. With great anticipation, the fireman, baby Jack, and I boarded the planes and travelled all day. As we began our initial descent we flew over the city I caught my breath at the beauty before me. The city lay beneath us, welcoming us home.

We were greeted by some of our favorite people in the whole entire world, John and Ann. I can't believe that I spent the entire week with them and didn't get a single picture of these people who love us as their own. I could write paragraphs on the love I have for J and A. Ann is a gift to our world. She is a beautiful, faithful mother of four. She is a mentor, mother, and friend to me. I miss her all the time. And John- he is gracious, loving, unimposing, and completely genuine. (Thank you J and A for the generous gift you shared with us.)
As we left Sea-Tac, Calvin and I and Ann and John visited about everyday things as if we had seen them yesterday. They pointed out new buildings re-shaping the Seattle skyline and started making plans for our week together. We stopped at a favorite pizza place just a few blocks from our sweet Queen Anne apartment- Maggie's first home. We saw some familiar faces and revelled in being back in our old neighborhood.
Ann and John were house-sitting for friends in Magnolia and after a few quick stops for diapers and necessary Trader Joe's snacks, we headed to the villa.
Did I mention that I love Seattle? I know I bore the heck out of people and I have to reign myself in when I see the glazed-eye expression creep into their faces. But this is my blog and I have the right to write all I want...

Crossing the Magnolia Bridge and looking out over Puget Sound, glancing back at Mount Ranier in his full glory, the 20 or so white sailboats in the blue water and Olympic Mountains as the backdrop, the Port of Seattle with the huge, bright orange cranes, the cruise ships, the Cascades Mountains to the east, and the gorgeous downtown skyline rising in the sunset... I was delirious. I was wearing a light jacket and jeans and felt great- and it was July. I think that something I love so much about Seattle is that just by looking at it, I can pick out what part of town is what. I know where I am almost all of the time and how to get where I want to go. I have favorite hole-in-the-wall boutiques and restuarant dives. I can recall bus routes and find the hidden stairways up the CounterBalance. I love the nooks and crannies. I know my way around, even after being away for so long.

One of my favorite days while there was one of the last. The day was warm by Seattle standards- in the mid 80's with a cool sea breeze. We had eaten a late breakfast with a good friend and then walked into downtown- about 10 blocks. We strolled through Pike Place Market and wandered up to Westlake Center and took the Monorail to Seattle Center. Seattle Center is about 4 blocks from our little apartment so is especially familiar. We walked over to the International Fountain, built in the 60's during the World's Fair. People were everywhere, sprawled all over the grass, picnicing, sleeping, hacky-sacking, juggling, kissing, sunbathing, relaxing... the fountain is just that- a giant, silver dome that "dances" to the music being piped in and broadcast over the loudspeakers. The water spray is choreographed to the tempo. And like a living thing it seems to play games with the crowd gathered to dance in it's sprinkles. Every so often, it will stop spraying and just let the water just run down the sides. I think everyone takes the dare and runs to touch the fountain before it starts up again... and usually it blows it's top just as every last person works up the courage to run for it. I love the screaming and laughing and chaos- the pleasure of being alive and enjoying a beautiful day in a fabulous city.
We couldn't resist letting Jack run through the water- even without a spare change of clothes. Who cares? It was too lovely to let the moment go by with out living in it.
closing for now.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008

leftovers


I am not a leftover girl. I have never liked to eat leftovers. I would just a soon let them rot or trash them. I can't explain it- it's just me.
Lately I have felt like all I have is leftovers in my life. I eat left overs all the time, forcing my palate and stomach to accept them in gratitude. But besides food and moving into life, I have what looks and feels and smells like leftovers. I snatch at crumbs in my relationships and schedule. The fireman and I pass in the hallway and often it just feels like we hardly know each other and we are amiable room mates. I get what's leftover after he spends himself at work, with the kids, in the garden, and worrying about all the things to worry about. Most of my girlfriends have kids so the little energy they have when the day is over doesn't amount to much. We all seem to run until we have run out.
I give myself leftovers. I allow my best to be sucked away from me and when the lights go down and the clock hits nine, the energy leftover from the day is spent brushing my teeth and crawling into bed. I have not been reading or writing like usual. I haven't been on the phone keeping up with friends. I haven't been trying new recipes or enjoying the way the sun feels when it hits my skin and warms my insides.
I have been crying. I have been crying a lot. I cry for myself and the mystery of who I am and am not. I have emptied my heart and eyes so often in the last month that I feel like there is nothing left to cry out or about. I have cried in frustration and anger. I have cried because of fear and feelings of abandonment. I cry because I feel taken advantage of and unappreciated and misunderstoood. I cry because I am too tired to give my best. I cry over spilled milk and grocery bills. I cry for my friends and their worries and cry because I feel helpless. I cry because I am lonely and because I am too busy. I cry because I miss seeing mountains and riding buses. I cry in anxiety and stress. I feel so overwhelmed with my to-do list that I am paralyzed to begin.


I am crying over leftovers. Leftovers are just not enough to sustain and satisfy me. I need more and want more. As one of my girlfriends says, "I am a quality-time kind of girl. If you spend quality time with me, you will know me." That's me too.
I want to be bumped up on the priority list. I am tired of leftovers. Give me some good stuff.