May 16th, 2008 by Jordan
Oh, my. The fantabulous Niksmom tagged me for this meme. I am supposed to describe my life in only 6 words. This can’t be easy. Here goes…
Insane mother raises two cheery delinquents.
No…
Frittering away another Friday night blogging.
Nah…here it is:
Eyes wide open, love is mine.
I now tag absolutely anyone who would like to participate. Leave your 6-word description on your blog or below in the comments for us all to enjoy.
May 15th, 2008 by Jordan
I know I’ve mentioned before that one of the top five descriptors one might choose for my son Lyle is random; well, Wonderfriends, it just keeps getting better. I’d like to record a few recent examples for posterity:
1) “Mommy? You know how I keep my water cup quiet at night?* I just spread strawberry jam on it!”
2) The boys are ridiculously insane together when they’re getting ready for bed. With me, of course, and especially on the days when Lyle hasn’t napped. He’s a maniac by bedtime. They act perfectly calm with their father, however. (Go figure.) Lately, Baxter has been leaning down from the top bunk and begging Lyle to “juggle” for him. “Just one more time, Lyle?” he asks. “Okay, Brother Dear!” yelps Lyle in perfect imitation of The Berenstain Bears Forget their Manners, and he proceeds to stand in the middle of the bedroom floor, knees slightly bent, and perform a wildly exagerrated pantomime of juggling invisible balls. As if there were forty balls in the air at once. The facial expression is matched only by the hysterically funny posture. Baxter and I can hardly stand it, it’s so crazy funny.
3) Lyle has an imaginary baby who now lives under the blue couch in the play room. He has named him “Gago”. Gago was borned 10 days ago, growed in Lyle’s own 3 1/2 year old tummy, and is 4 years old. I can’t tell you how delighted he was when Matt and I crouched down to see Gago and exclaimed over his adorableness. His very literal brother looked down there and said quite kindly, “I’m gonna need a flashlight, Lyle, because I just don’t see him anywhere.” I suggested he look with his imagination, and Baxter turned and said, proving the point he’d been trying to make when he heard about Gago earlier, “Oh, so he’s not real?” Umm, no, honey. Matt has taken full credit for Baxter’s adherence to realism, while I have to say that the totally bizarre stuff might look a little more familiar to my kin.
*Is this a problem your kids have? The sippy cup valves that squeak at odd times during the night and keep your child awake?
May 13th, 2008 by Jordan
May there always be sunshineMay there always be blue skies
May there always be Mommies
May there always be me…
I sang this lullaby for him at bedtime. He who started his day crying at the breakfast table over his great-grandfather, still struggling in the hospital. He who told his curious little brother, “They’re just trying to keep him from dying,” and then began to weep. The one who then saw me crying too, and put his finger on the perfect old family joke that would, finally, make us both laugh through our tears, take a deep breath, and start our day over.
May there always be sunshine
May there always be blue skies
May there always be Daddies
May there always be me…
I sang it for him, not in spite of its ridiculous simplicity but, rather, because of it.
I did it for this boy. The boy who today tried to wrap his mind around an earthquake that could take the lives of 10,000 faraway people. A loss we can’t begin to fathom. Who hasn’t even heard about the cyclone yet, in part because I was out of town when it occurred and in part because I can’t bear to tell him, frightened as he is of tornadoes.
Singing this sweet Russian folk song felt quite nearly wrong tonight, as if I were leading him astray in this dangerous and unpredictable world. And yet I persisted, because the reverent hush that immediately fell over the bedroom was so uniquely beautiful.
May there always be sunshine
May there always be blue skies
May there always be boys
May there always be me…
“You should sing about girls, too,” he demanded, sense of equality strong, and so of course I did.
And then from the top bunk came, “I’m making a box up here, Mommy.” As he spoke I could barely make out a smallish finger tracing the shape of a square in the darkness. ”I’m putting all of the ‘may theres’ in the box. The sunshine, you know? And the blue skies, and the Mommies and Daddies, and boys and girls. And I think tomorrow night you should sing about Pokemon and Webkinz, too. They’re all going into my box together.”
I can’t put this boy in a box of his own, here in his dark room. I can’t protect him from natural disasters or illness or death of his loved ones. But if I can give him a collection of “may theres” - a box to keep deep in his heart, one that is overflowing with all that he holds dear as he relaxes into sleep each night but also as he faces nightmares even in his days over the years - it occurs to me that this might be enough. It might actually be the best we can do.
May 11th, 2008 by Jordan
It was a decidedly cheery weekend. Lots of Mother’s Day treats and a remarkably social couple of days. This was sorely needed.
It began when I arrived home from work on Friday evening to find the boys jumping out of their very skins with surprises for me. (Surprises that Lyle let slip within seconds, making the scene all the more adorable.) Our award-winning nanny had actually commandeered the boys into making a huge chocolate cake from scratch as a Mother’s Day gift. She had also bought a card and written some quotes from them inside (Lyle’s was: “We made you a CAKE!!!”), and they had slipped it into the mailbox with the mail for me to discover. You’ve never seen two kids more excited to let their mother get the mail.
In fact, the boys were so invested in Mother’s Day that they were excited and especially sweet to me all weekend. The pinnacle was this morning, when I got to sleep until 8 AM (thank GOD, because we were up very late with friends the night before). At the appointed hour, Matt and the boys came in with breakfast in bed for the whole family. The three of them had snuck out and bought bagels at New York Bagel, Chicago’s best bagel shop, and they appeared with a “bagel bar” on a tray. We had our breakfast made to order by Matt, as we all sat propped up against pillows. With the fresh bagels, surrounded by my guys and a cup of hot Metropolis coffee, I was in heaven. Matt gave me his glass heart, suggesting that I share it with him, and they had all bought me some very cool accessories for my new bike. (Remember the used bike I bought last month? I haven’t even had a chance to ride it yet - what with the return of wintry weather and all - but I just won a gorgeous brand new bike in a raffle at our church last week! Now to find a recipient for the old new one…I’m thinking the award-winning nanny would be an appropriate choice.)
Lyle made some adorable flowers for me in preschool and I have placed them in a vase with the ones Baxter made for me at the same age. I love to see them together - the two sets of flowers are as different as my two boys but equally beautiful. A highlight of my day was a card from Baxter that I will copy for you here with my favorite line in italics:
My Mommy loves me
Otherwise very nice. [?!]
The best one ever!
Happy as ever.
Energy not as good as mine.
Ready to help me with anything.
Matt finds the line about my energy level especially hilarious, as he likes to say that I have more energy than any other parent he knows. But when you’re a 7-year old super hero, no one could dream of being faster or more powerful. It’s a contest I’m happy to lose to him.
The weekend truly had some wonderful highs, in spite of the continually depressing news of my grandfather, who is not so much getting worse as not really getting better. I am incredibly fortunate to have such loving family and friends to remind me of all the delights in my life.
Happy Mothers Day to all of you, my friends. I hope that your day was everything you needed, too.
May 8th, 2008 by Jordan
Well, Wonderfriends, I’m not sure what to report now that I’ve returned home from Massachusetts.
My grandfather is not doing well. He’s recovering quite well spontaneously from his stroke, but this has become low on the list of medical priorities. It seems to be a case of one thing leading to another, in that certain conditions he didn’t even know he had (because they were mild when he was functioning well enough) have worsened in the past week secondary to his lack of mobility, dehydration, and weakness. He is fragile and yet fighting a whole host of physical ailments simultaneously. As soon as things improve in one area and he seems to be doing better, we become hopeful about his recovery. However, I am starting to see a clear pattern of one step forward, two steps back.
Although I am no longer the one dashing back and forth to the hospital, calling the nurses at all hours for my grandmother, or making the lists of questions for the doctor, I am riding this roller coaster via my mother, aunt, and cousin, who are now there and full of concern. There are daily ups and downs, but today I can’t help but feel that we’re on a downward trajectory in general.
I’m tired. Even though I truly loved all the time I had with my grandmother (and grandfather, when he was conscious and making sense) and the connections I was able to make with so many other relatives, it was intense and exhausting. There was no down time and little sleep to be had for those four days.
I came home early in the morning yesterday and spent the day with the boys rather than going in to work, because it was imperative that I reconnect with them after yet another long absence. At some point in the day, though, I had to ask myself when in the world I will get to reconnect with me, and unfortunately I do not see time for that in the coming days. In fact, Matt had to leave on another business trip tonight, which only intensifies things at home.
All this is to say that I am worn out, sad, and wondering what the outcome will be in Massachusetts. I am equally concerned for both of my grandparents right now. I wish I had a life that would have allowed me to stay there as long as I was needed, but I am needed here, too. And so I am chugging through these long days as well as I can, and getting as much sleep as possible to offset my exhaustion, but not having time or energy to write much. Neither am I out there in the blogosphere reading too much right now; I just don’t have it in me. Thanks for all of your very kind and thoughtful comments over the past week, they’ve really cheered me greatly. I appreciate your support.
I’ll be back soon. I promise.
May 5th, 2008 by Jordan
I am happy to report that I was able to forego the pricier hotel room here in Springfield, Massachusetts, because the person who had reserved the guest room at my grandparents’ retirement housing complex bailed at the last minute.
The guest room is cheaper and actually far nicer than most hotel rooms, certainly better than the one I was going to have at the Clarion in West Springfield. It also allows me to be just moments away from my grandmother, which sounds good to you because you haven’t made breakfast with her at 7:30 in the morning yet.
Although my grandparents live in the Independent Living building here, the guest suite is in the Assisted Living building. Ooooh, yeah! This room has the tremendous benefit of free breakfast and dinner in the dining room, which I have so far managed to avoid except for the fact that my grandmother couldn’t resist last night’s special: liver and onions. I kid you not. Thankfully, I was able to order a burger off the regular menu. I did also try to snag a cup of regular coffee yesterday morning because my grandmother’s brew of decaf motor oil was simply not cutting it. Can you say THROBBING HEADACHE at the hospital all day? Let me just say right now: do NOT drink the Assisted Living coffee, do you hear me? It makes the Kool-Aid taste reeeaaal good, Drama Mama.
But you know, I’ll miss this place when I leave on Wednesday. Really, how could I be so lucky as to open my door on a delightful sunny morning and face this on my neighbor’s door?
I mean, goddammit, how could I not have a nice day after that greeting? Isn’t it charming? All those sweet little bees? *Sigh*
Also, I don’t know about you, but I have never before enjoyed the luxury of elevators and automatic doors designed for wheelchair and walker users in my own home. I mean it. I could stub my toe on the way in, plop myself down in the doorway to take off my shoe and sock, inspect the toe, call a doctor, wait for the guy to swim over from England, let the amputation heal, and still have time to enjoy a grande skim honey latte no whip delivered by camel before that door would close on me. Sweet!
Furthermore, where else do you say good-night to your friends at the end of dinner by smiling cheerfully and saying, “God willing, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Nowhere, that’s where. I mean, really, what a lovely constant reminder of one’s mortality.
****
Okay, okay, I’ll report on the actual news soon. It’s been a very rough few days but we’re all hanging in there - that includes my grandfather, even though he’s pretty sure he’s in an electronics store, what with those TVs hanging on the wall, instead of a hospital, and can’t figure out what he’s doing there. But, hey, let me have a few laughs tonight, will you? I could really use them.
May 2nd, 2008 by Jordan
April 1974
If these were your grandparents, your mind would be an endless treasure trove of memories.
You would remember the weeks they took care of you when your parents were out of town, and the sandy summer vacations at their house on Cape Cod, with the creepy spiders in the outdoor shower and the chicken salad sandwiches made with sliced poultry cooked fresh that morning. Which is why you were always at the beach 3 hours later than you were supposed to be. But no matter.
If these were your grandparents, you would remember the Halloween when they dressed as Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf and drove down to Hartford from Springfield just to scare the living daylights out of you spend Halloween with you and your little brother, wee preschoolers that you were.
You would remember all-out feasts on every holiday. Huge, incredible meals, all made from scratch, at a table set with the best china and silver, with candles lit. With aunts, uncles, and cousins on all sides, but with your grandparents at the head and foot of the table, always, trying to cajole a grandchild into saying Grace. And a great many homemade pies.
You would also remember that they came to every single theatrical performance, violin recital, and solo in the church choir that you ever had. And that although your grandmother panned the show half the time, you were always a star as far as she was concerned. If you were the athletic type, you would recall that as long as they had grandchildren in high school, they drove themselves to field hockey games, gymnastics meets, and dance shows, even though they were in their late 70s and early 80s. Even in the rain and when they’d have to drive home at night. From another state. Even when they weren’t supposed to be driving at all.
You’d recall the multi-college tour, when your grandmother came along with you and your mother. You’d understand as an adult why it was special, even though the point was rather lost on you at age 17, and you would finally be amused by your grandmother’s comment that the students at Haverford were far too serious for you and that you’d be much happier elsewhere. And you’d realize that she was right.
You’d remember that your grandfather had a joke a minute when you were growing up, just as he does now. That he was the one to write the corniest things you ever heard of in your autograph book in elementary school, and that he was always the punniest guy in the room. That as soon as you got married, he started including your husband in the old fashioned off-color jokes you’d never heard him tell.
But most of all you’d remember generosity, pure and simple. Generosity of spirit and generosity of time. Of going all out for others, no matter who they were. Graciously hosting relatives for days at a time. And even now, giving gifts to you and your children that are beyond their means but heartfelt. Because to them, there is no other way to be.
If they were your grandparents, you would remember all of this and more. You would realize all over again how very lucky you are that they are still in your life, and what a gift it is to have had them for 37 years and counting.
And if one of them had a stroke and a blocked carotid artery that was inoperable, and had to be in a rehab facility for weeks, leaving the other one - nearly blind - alone in an unfamiliar apartment, every single one of those memories would flood your consciousness simultaneously and you would simply start making plans to drop everything for a while to be with them. Even if it took the better part of a day just to cancel and rearrange five days’ worth of your everyday life. Even if you had to pay a premium for the last-minute flight and hotel room, and leave your kids for an extended period for the second time in a month.
You would have to shake your head in amazement when your grandmother asks, “How could we be so fortunate?” when she hears of all the support that is lined up from those who live far away, because you would know that it is we who are fortunate, those of us in Chicago and San Francisco, in Spain, Austria, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Oregon, and - soon - Iraq, who are fortunate enough to call them our grandparents.
You would go. Of course you would. You just would.
October 1973
Apr 30th, 2008 by Jordan
Well, Autism Awareness Month has come to a close. In the end, I opted out of writing posts that were specifically about autism this month, because instead I found that I was thinking more about what is, for me, at the heart of the matter: acceptance. Acceptance of each and every beautiful child, no matter what. You can read what I had to say on this topic here and here, if you missed the posts.
I was asked this month to write a piece for Trusera.com, a social networking website that focuses on health and wellness. The topic was, “What is one thing you want people to know about autism?” I will share it with you tonight, as we say goodbye to Autism Awareness Month:
“If there is one thing you should know about people with autism spectrum disorders, it is that autism is not one thing.
Just like any other two people you would meet, no two people on the spectrum are the same. It is referred to as a “spectrum” disorder for a reason: the possible combinations of strengths and challenges are endless. Knowing one child (or adult) with a spectrum disorder does not prepare us to work with (or parent) another. Each person must be respected as an individual with his or her own unique sensory profile as well as motor and communication strengths and needs.
If we begin with the assumption that autism is not one thing, it stands to reason that there is no one-size-fits-all treatment method. Although this is often cited as a complaint - “Which is the best methodology to use with my child?” - I believe it’s beneficial that there are many options for families. Some children flourish with Floortime, while others do well to start out with a more structured approach like a contemporary ABA program in conjunction with some less structured playtime. Some families are able to embrace Relationship Development Intervention (RDI), while others are better suited to a more therapist-directed program. Some have benefitted greatly from use of the SCERTS curriculum in their school programs. Furthermore, despite what Jenny McCarthy is preaching, not all children on the spectrum show a dramatic change in behavior with biomedical interventions; but some do.
I have no doubt that in the years to come, we will learn to characterize autism spectrum disorders differently, to better capture the different types of autism we see. But even then, I have no doubt that this statement will ring true: there is no one autism.”
I was tagged over at Rooster Calls for this meme. It appears to be simple enough, even for me:
5 things found in your bag:
1. Parking ticket (damn that broken meter)
3. Empty container of Tic Tacs
4. Lego heart from Lyle
5. Envelope full of deposits to be dropped at the bank
5 favorite things in your room:
1. 4 Framed photos of each of us with each of the boys
2. Bold orange and white duvet cover
3. Tissue paper and pipe cleaner flowers Baxter made in preschool one Mother’s Day
4. Pile of books to be read next to my bed
5. My great-grandmother’s engagement ring
5 things you have always wanted to do:
1. Be able to take naps (when not pregnant).
2. Sleep past 6:15 when I don’t have to get up for anything.
3. Work out every day.
4. Own a Vespa. In pink.
5. Make out with Barry Manilow. JUST KIDDING.
5 things you are currently into:
1. Eating right
2. Jack Johnson
3. Slowing down
5. Redecorating our dining room
5 people you’d like to tag:
1. The Lady Squabina at The Snarky Squab
2. Emily at A Life Less Ordinary?
Apr 28th, 2008 by Jordan
It’s been one hell of a day. Challenging sessions here at work, pouring rain outside, and trying to figure out if and when I should fly back to Massachusetts to stay with my grandmother, because my grandfather had a stroke last week, is in the hospital, and is likely to head to a rehab facility soon. I’m not too keen on the idea of my nearly-blind grandmother (who never asks for help) getting around by herself in the senior housing apartment that they’ve only lived in for a matter of weeks. I should go, right?
But, Wonderfriends, here’s what is getting me through this day - my skin looks damn good. And I’ll tell you why: Benefit’s Erase Paste. Dab a little under the eyes, on the eyelids, and anywhere you are sporting a little blemish or discoloration: poof! They don’t lie when they say that it conceals and brightens - it actually does. Even Matt is totally impressed with this product, and that’s saying something.
Now if only I had some Erase Paste for all the bigger stuff in my life…
