Bits and pieces
Years and years and years ago, the system as a whole was going to be a teacher during the school year and a writer in the summer. Because we loved (and I mean loved) being a camp counsellor. We went so far as to be a paid educational assistant for two years and an afterschool teacher for a third, but that experience pretty much caused us to opt out of the B.Ed programme we got into. (That and a kind of stress meltdown.) Then I (I’m switching to I here, but using it loosely) took an adult education course. And taught writing to high school students in a Saturday enrichment programme. And then I got a job that was pretty close to writing and moved up into editing and dropped the whole educational thing completely.
This weekend I had a weird experience with that though. We ended up in Ottawa this weekend for a family funeral (not close family, but close family was bereft so we went for hugs and support). And since Carl and I are volunteer types we ended up in the kids’ room at the funeral home watching about 5-9 kids (depending on whose parents were in the viewing room at the time). It was kind of like rediscovering a lost muscle; how to get a small group of under-7s to watch me, how to organize games in a circle, etc.
I’m not about to rush out and Do That right now; I pretty much learned about myself that I’ve got a wee bit much of the radical unschooler in me and enforcing structure all day long makes me grumpy over the long term. But I had forgotten how much fun it is. As a mom at playgroups at Noah’s age I have fun, but it’s not at all like being the camp counsellor.
Of course then I got sick and missed work yesterday and am now up all panicked about work (but not addressing it ’til I get to the office). I am so neurotic about work right now. I think, if one were to get at the root of it, it’s because I like my job. And so of course it must be about to disappear. And the economy is like that too.
But even if it did, it would be okay in the end. I keep reminding myself. But inside, I’m still - neurotic!
Noah did great with the travel. He gets carsick, so we gave him Gravol so that kept him asleep half of the way each way, and then for the other half we did games and books on CD and he… played. Alone. In the backseat. This three year old thing is amazing. He also loved the hotel (bar fridge he could open! pool! mum and dad in the room with him all the time! cable tv, although he was quite distressed to learn you can not rewind/play again). But what he really, really loved were his cousins.
I have a schmaltzy little chicken soup for your gag reflex story about that. For years, right, Carl and I have been making this effort to bond with our niece and nephews. Not just because they are great kids and we love them but because their family’s gone through upheavals and happened to end up in our province and so despite the sore temptation to spend long weekends in bed, many times we have trekked up to see them. That’s fine, and we’ve gotten our love and joy out of it.
But what I didn’t realize is that it is returning one hundred-fold because these older cousins are treating my son with love and care. Watching my two nephews lead him around the Museum of Civilization, finding every cool thing they liked when they were younger to show off, and Noah starry-eyed in tow soaking everything in was… well it has to rank up there as one of life’s great joys. I’m sure I’ll babble on about this often, because it is amazing to see kids, well, love each other.
The funeral was hard though. It was kind of the first parent death of my generation; although we hope it’s the last for many years, it did bring home that we will be gathering like this again and again eventually.
No test results yet so I’ll be all over the dr’s office today. I saw one of those medical shows while we were having cable and it happened to be a woman who ended up with a MS diagnosis, and the symptoms were a little scarily like. But the MRI results will probably eliminate this fear. Also, I threw my back out and am thinking maybe all this is ‘just’ my back.
I know, I sound one million years old with all my ‘plaints.
The no-update health; stuff
Health update: I had the MRI, and no one rushed in and said OH MY GOD and wheeled me off, so that’s good.
Results are not back to my doctor yet. Sadly having to lie on my back and be still made me all tense, and then the next day I tripped and then lifted various things later (bags, toddler, books) and now my back is having one of its semi-annual attacks.
On the plus side I feel a little bit better, but it’s hard to tell if it’s ’cause I’ve adjusted to going to bed early and not doing anything unnecessary in my life, like have fun. Okay that’s grumpy but I am feeling a little grumpy. However, the plus side: marginally better.
Work is good but I am anxious all the time that I am Not Enough - not detailed enough, not dedicated enough, not focused enough. Experience suggests that this feeling will mostly fade in about another nine months. But I do wonder if there’s a biochemical component to the anxiety. I’m not usually THIS neurotic.
The general tenor in media is pretty somber though; the economic downturn hits our bottom lines very, very quickly as advertising budgets get slashed. It’s hard to say where I fit into something like that: my corner is ok, but I might get dragged out of it. I’m in the enviable two-income position of course, but middle class is precious to me and I would like to keep my job. Being on the web site is the growth side, but there are several editors more senior than I and one could consolidate resources.
Normally my response to that is work harder, but there’s a funeral in Ottawa this weekend and Noah’s school was off today, so I took today off and we’re going to Ottawa this weekend (leaving tomorrow). So today I’m not working. I’m doing the chores I can do without killing my back, and hanging out with Noah.
We have grand plans to make gingerbread cookies this afternoon because it snowed on Tues, albeit briefly, and in some moment of pressure I had said that we would make gingerbread cookies when it snows, sometime a month ago. So when I picked Noah up at school Tuesday he was dead certain that we were about to make cookies Right Then. He also reminded me that we don’t eat snow from the ground, only from the sky, which was last year’s rule. Am I raising child, or elephant?
At least we can take cookies to the bereaved. I am not making angel ones for that though. Stars will do.
Although the occasion for our trip is a sad one, in a strange way Carl and I both are looking forward to it. We forewent the usual summer trip this summer and although it was a good decision for sanity, we did miss the break. Rather than bunking with relations we are planning to pay for a hotel room - it means Carl doesn’t have to feel rotten for working through the night, and if Noah’s cranky we can deal in private, and there will be a pool, and with luck, a jacuzzi tub. We’ll probably hit the Museum of Civilization which has a fabulous kids’ area.
Not sure how the drive will be for my back, but the Elantra actually has really comfy seats, so that’s a bonus.
Onwards!
Piccolo dreams / update
A couple of weeks past the first trimester of Emily’s pregnancy Carl and I were at the symphony and I realized that this baby might stick and that we might get to take her to the kids’ TSO (Toronto Symphony Orchestra) concerts. So that would have been somewhere in 2003.
Going to live classical performances is one of Carl’s and my things and it was kind of that realization that I would get to introduce that to our children.
So today we took Noah to his first TSO concert and it was fantastic. We rode the GO train down, got lunch at Gabby’s, walked about on a lovely fall day, and attended a great concert.
The conductor, under the guise of searching for the “magic of music,” talked about melody (Respighi’s The Dove), rhythm (Saber Dance) and imagination (Sugar Plum Fairy) and emotion (Symphony #5 by Beethoven) and oh I don’t remember everything but it was super. She had the kids up conducting at one point. Noah was a bit overwhelmed by sound from time to time, and had to “go to the bathroom” (check out the pay phones) at about the 45 minute mark of the hour-long show. But generally his behaviour, within the framework of the kids’ show, was absolutely fine.
It was just as good as I imagined it, only better.
~~~
Health-wise the ENT didn’t find anything wrong with me, which is good, but frustrating. I have more tests scheduled with him and the MRI next week. I actually am feeling a bit better and have had fewer headaches, so maybe whatever it is is resolving regardless. I’d still like to know what it is, but I am glad it’s receding enough at least to get through normal things.
The actual ENT experience just got worse and worse though - anaesthetic down the throat, along with a scope, while looking out over the same view as I sat watching as my first OB explained (”explained”) why Emily died. Spaciness afterwards to the point that I had to wait a while before I could drive. And a day after that of lack of concentration and a lot of free-floating rage. But I think I’ve worked through it okay.
~~
And although I really missed that wee Emily who (later in her term) kicked inside me to the Rach 3 and Lord of the Rings, who was already tuned into rhythm and sound, and who never got to go anywhere with us outside the womb, having Noah there was - well let’s say I found the magic of music, and it might’ve been the delight in my son’s eyes.
Live blogging the ENT
Normally I don’t use my Blackberry to post because data costs in Canada, my friends. And I have never set up email. But today is special because the ENT office is one floor over my first ob/gyn’s office. So I am feeling like shit and I am nothing if not generous in sharing.
I actually didn’t think it would be quite this bad, but it is. I hate new doctors. I hate being sick. And I hate this building. The last time I was here was a 6 week post-partum check where my former ob either lied or spouted lies she had accepted from the hospital, did a pap smear, and offered me clomid for my next attempt. Because nothing says I love you like a twin pregnancy after perinatal loss.
I think I am suddenly in tune with my anger. You know, you think you get over certain things. But you don’t, actually. It may be in this case I have just learned to bypass the right intersection. Because if I were to meet Dr. G in the elevator I might not adhere to the standards of civilized social intercourse.
Anyways. There is a two hour wait. I am still an advocate of socialized medicine. People screw up in many systems. But I do wish I had brought a digital camera because then you could admire how even a specialist in Toronto has dirty carpet circa 1988 and shares his office, quite innocently, with a family lawyer. And several fake plants, also circa 1988, last cleaned in 200… Ok that is hyperbole, really they are clean.
I should tell you about my trust realization next. If I have to wait much longer, I will.
Election day!
That’s right, not only was Thanksgiving Monday here, but election day was today. Americans, it is fine if you are confused.
It was an entirely Canadian day. This morning Noah’s school went out to a farm and each child picked a pumpkin out of the pumpkin patch, and fed some geese.
Then we tackled voting with Noah:
“Why can’t I go on the boat?”
“What’s a gobernment?”
(After some discussion we said we pick the people who will be on our team to set the rules, so at the polling station:)
“You want to be on my team Canada?” (to random people)
“I can make an X!”
“when will I be 18? Tomorrow?”
Afterwards, in the same way that those who study Torah for the first time receive sugar, we continued our tradition of going to get doughnuts at Tim Horton’s. (See? Canadian.) Noah had a little monologue in the back seat:
“I’m going to get a chocolate one. A BIG chocolate one. I don’t like the white ones so much. They taste… white. I don’t love the tiny ones. I love the big chocolate ones.”
Then we ice-skated home to the igloo, sang “Un Canadien Errant,” ate moose by the light of the blubber lamp, saluted the Mountie down the road, and went to sleep. No, really.
Health update
Still feel about the same, although the headaches are a bit less frequent. But the throat / swallowing thing has been worse. I feel like I operate mostly in a fog.
So update: chest x-ray came back ok. Ultrasound showed the lymph nodes continue to grow. Impressively one is almost 2 inches wide now.
Specialists I am seeing: ENT, Internist, Neurologist (maybe; MRI first). Possibly dermatologist. We’re kind of officially looking for infections (sinus, throat, ear), lesions (MS), tumours (brain), skin cancer (remember I used to say I had a gut feeling I would get skin cancer at 36? Being 37 and having swollen nodes, this is not amusing) and… I don’t know, after that. Immune system thingies. Bloodwork remains normal. My doctor is completely stumped, and not in a good way.
Specialist I got to cancel: Oncologist. No one is happier about this than I am. But after the ultrasound showed bigger nodes and before the chest x-ray was clean, we were definitely headed down the cancer road. And to be fair, we’re not entirely out of the woods yet.
Sadness I am having: besides the struggle it is to get through the days, and the Huge Fears I am (quite normally) having about me and about Noah and stuff, I am really sad this is coming up at this time. It’s good that it’s now, but if this takes months to track down, the chances of us conceiving again (assuming this is nothing horrible) feel like they drop every month, and of course we are on strict strict rules about that, and weren’t experiencing success anyway. For the record, it’s not that Noah is “not enough.” It’s just - I dunno. I’m just sad.
Also this is making me realize that one day, even if this is just a scare, it won’t be. It’s a big realization. Not sure what to do with it yet.
Sunday afternoons
Y’all are no help with the poetry. :) We did actually make a little folder of poetry and THEY can pick one. Ha, ha. It was a lot of fun. A poetry party at 9 am Saturday. Whee.
There is so much good poetry in the world. I’m still working on my list of Things My Child Should Read In His Lifetime.
Then I took Noah to yet another birthday party (hazard of being a part of playgroups, but in a good way - we leave for another one in half an hour). It was at a kind of nifty indoor playground which had basically a lot of good toys, a climbing gym and a slide into a ball pit. Designed for the under-5 set for sure.
It was interesting to watch him play with the other kids, or rather, not really play with them (they were mostly 3, so mostly were not playing together). Noah was definitely bucking the crowd and doing his own thing - playing in the play kitchen (which had LAUNDRY, oh my) and climbing everything he could climb, but always where it wasn’t crowded.
This is a change for him and I’m sure it’s okay, but I did wonder if something’s up at school, so I think I will ask next week. He started crying when the cake came out and I gave him a hug and asked why he was crying and he said “because soon we will have to go home.” I couldn’t believe he was sitting there worrying about it. In fact there were 45 minutes left and he perked right up and played some more. So he was happy, just sort of off in his own head. I sympathize, but I want to be sure it’s not that he’s left out at school or something.
He is currently that difficult mix that shorthands to “a NICE boy,” meaning he may not be fitting in with the girls or the boys. Not that they are so segregated at his school or anything, but when other parents say that to me I know what they mean.
This morning Carl did swimming and I cleaned house, which was sorely needed… my routines have slipped with my energy, and also we’re just in a whole new phase. It used to be that we rotated toys and also I would cull them out from time to time. But now Noah remembers all his toys, frequently wants most of them out for some grand plan (I’m building OUTER SPACE now and I need ALL my blocks because space is BIG mummy), and then… well that’s the issue.
Then what? I’ve made the mistake of letting him leave things during the week because his evening at-home time is so limited, and because he likes to have things where they were to pick up on his games from there. (If one were to come to my house at night, one would find usually about 5 cars or trains “parked” along the baseboards. At 6 am, Noah gets up and “unparks” them.)
So for the next month we’re going to really work on developing a tidy-up habit. We’ll see how we balance it out.
Health results: I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about them a lot since I don’t have a lot of information yet, plus I’m avoiding negative thinking until I have more information. But I do know I’m supposed to see a specialist and it’s not a good kind. So more later in the week.
Poetry
Next week at Noah’s school they are having poetry day. Parents are asked to help their kids pick a poem and send it in.
Okay, but how do you pick just one? Noah and I share the problem. In the end I’ll put a few on the table and have him pick one, so the mechanics of it will be okay.
But seriously? ONE POEM. The pressure. Do we go for the highly amusing Jack Prelutsky, and sneak a dragon in? What about the ever-iconic William Carlos Williams? Or do we go traditional with Robert Louis Stevenson? Christina Rossetti? Sneak in some Blake? Or get snarky with Ogden Nash? Over the top with Rules by Eleanor Farjeon? Sweet with A. A. Milne…
ONE POEM.
Harumph.