Perspective

There's nothing like death to help a person gain a little perspective on... well, life.

My sister-in-law, Ana, went to business school in PA, where she met Heather. Ana and Heather became quick friends. That friendship lasted through business school, and outlasted distances ranging from a few blocks when they both lived in NYC, a few hundred miles when Ana was in Virginia, and a few thousand miles when Ana was in Ghana. They've been best friends for around 15 years, I think.

In the early fall of 2007, Heather felt a small lump in her breast. In October 2007, she was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a double mastectomy. She endured two rounds of chemotherapy - the first she got through with only a few side effects... the second, however, was a different "cocktail" and made her very, very ill. She said (through Ana) that she didn't feel like herself. She decided to pursue routes towards a cure other than traditional medicine, for her own peace of mind.

She found the most comfort in accupuncture. After a while, she was feeling okay. After a period of "okayness," her doctors discovered that her cancer had returned, but was attacking her liver instead. And it just so happens that her type of liver cancer would best be treated with the chemo cocktail that had made her so sick in her earlier trial. Again, she decided to go the naturopathic route.

Ana's been in the U.S. since September, in preparation for her 2nd baby's arrival (he was born in October). Since then, she's been visiting Heather regularly, and thus I've been getting reports on Heather's condition. She deteriorated pretty quickly over the past 6 months. Ana's reports got more and more gloomy - Heather could barely get out of bed because she was so weak. She was in so much pain. She was unable to play even the simplest games with her two daughters.

Last Friday Ana sent an email saying that Heather seemed "so close to death it's scary." On Monday, Heather died.

*Deep breath*

Tonight, after I put the boys to bed I came downstairs eager to pour myself a glass of wine and pout about how everything had gone wrong with the boys' bath tonight - I'd decided to bathe them in the big tub in my bathroom because it was getting near impossible for me to bathe them together in their little bathtub - they push each other, try to walk by each other and regularly slip and fall, splash water everywhere. The experience in my tub tonight was even worse - the bottom is extremely slippery because, well, let's face it - the whirlpool tub is meant to be sat upon, not walked on. As soon as I put Logan in he slipped and fell flat on his back. It was difficult for me to get him out because it's a pretty deep tub with a very shallow "landing" on which to sit. The water was about 4" deep and Logan was all the way on the other side of the tub from where I was so I was terrified he'd drown. I somehow scooped him up and we went to the boys' bathroom to get the non-skid, non-slip bathtub liner from their tub. When I got back, I had the pleasure of seeing Ben, precious boy that he is, tipping the bottle of shampoo upside down and pouring the contents onto the tile surrounding the tub. It was all over the tile, his hands, and his shirt. I put the tub liner in the tub, put Logan in the tub, took the shampoo bottle away from Ben (he screamed), insisted that he stop smearing the puddle of shampoo all over the tile (he screamed again), got him undressed and into the tub. They were happy for a few minutes. I realized I'd forgotten the big red Solo cups we use to wet and rinse shampoo out of their hair in their bathroom. I grabbed a few paper Dixie cups from the vanity to do the job (I don't know what I was thinking). When I got up to get a towel to wipe up the shampoo, those little buzzards (aren't they the birds that dive onto carcasses to get their claws on them as soon as they're abandoned? Carrion?) grabbed the Dixie cups, filled them with water, and poured the water out of the tub. At one point Logan realized it was super fun to put the cup right up to the faucet's running water - that way, a whole stream of water flew out of the tub.

I was frustrated.

Before pouring myself that glass of wine, I stopped in the office to have a glance at Facebook. I scrolled down my home page and noticed that Heather's husband had posted a picture of Heather, and many of his friends had left messages of condolence.

I instantly felt guilty and selfish for having gotten *so* frustrated over something so trivial... and that should probably have just been funny. How could I have been feeling mad, sad, frustrated, upset...? At least I am healthy and alive. I get to re-cover Ben and Logan with their blankets tonight when I check on them before I go to bed. I get to snuggle in bed with my husband, who is also healthy and alive. I should be thankful that I get to experience bathtime with my kids every (other) night.

Heather's husband is a widow... and he's not even 40. Heather's daughters, now ages 5 and almost 3, will have to say in the future, "My mom died when I was a little girl." I get a pit in my stomach when I wonder to myself if they're asking for their mommy.

*Deep breath*

So here it is... perspective. Tomorrow, when I feel myself getting frustrated, overwhelmed, stressed out, angry... I will think about this wonderful family who is having a tragic experience. I will take a deep breath. And smile. Because I get to be with my kids and my husband.

Acclimating: Part Two

Ben and I seem to have made strides in regards to our continuing acclimation to our new community.

Typically when I drop Ben off at, ahem, "school," he starts crying as soon as I bend down to give him a hug goodbye. A teacher comes over, scoops him up, and tries to get him focused on a fun activity. At first, I could hear Ben screaming all the way down the hall, and it broke my heart. For the past month, I've been thrilled because he's generally stopped crying somewhere between being picked up by the teacher and me leaving the room. Well, last Thursday he did something that I didn't think would ever happen - he didn't cry. At. All.

!!!

I was shocked, and my mouth was literally hanging open, and I looked at the teacher with my eyes wide open. And it doesn't seem like it was a fluke - it happened again today.

I have to admit that while I am so excited that we've reached this new level, I felt my heartstrings tugging at me because he wasn't sad that I was leaving. How ridiculous is that of me? The thing that I'd been hoping for had happened, and I was sad about it? I was sad that my son wasn't crying? Sheesh!

Anyway... also on Thursday, when I picked Ben up from school, one of his teachers told me that was getting more and more interactive with the other kids. She mentioned that he and a little girl named Brooke spent a lot of time together that day - they hugged when they woke up from their naps, and sat next to each other reading a book that was spread out across their legs in the reading area. How cute is that? I was so happy to hear that was coming out of his shell. The teacher said that Brooke was also one of the quieter kids... maybe that's why they were drawn to each other.

On Friday, we hosted the second meeting of our new playgroup. There were 5 moms and 10 kids (including us). Typically in these situations Ben is quite clingy, and insists on sitting in my lap. When he actually does get interested in toys, he takes my hand, leads me to where the toy of interest is, and makes me stand next to him while he plays (as he had done on Wednesday at our Moms & Tots playgroup). Well, on Friday you'd have thought he was a totally different kid - he was socializing with the other kids, and independent from me. One of the last families to arrive had a 5 year old little girl named Scarlet. She was feeling kind of shy and was hiding in the mudroom area. She stuck her head around the corner every so often to check us out in the playroom down the hall. Ben saw one of those peeks and said, "Who dat?!" I explained that it was Scarlet, and she was shy, and could ask her to come to the playroom? He ran down the hall, took her hand, and said, "Come play! Come to the playroom! Come play!" with a huge smile on his face. This is not at all like him! I think he interacted with every single kid there - playing in Logan's birthday tent with Gavin, looking at new baby Ashley's tiny hands, pushing Scarlet in the police car.

Of course I'm thinking that school gets the credit for Ben's "blossoming." It was so fun to watch; I really hope he keeps it up.

The Domino Effect/Best Laid Plans

Yesterday turned out to be a comedy of errors.

I had my day all laid out, so things would go seamlessly -
8:30 - Drop Ben off at school
9:30 - Leave the house for Logan's allergist appointment
10:30 - Logan's allergist appointment
1:00-ish - Drop Logan off at home with the babysitter, leave for my appointment
1:20 - my CAT scan for my sinus issues

I knew it might get a little tight between Logan's appointment and mine, as his appt was all the way in Newton, a good 40 minute drive from home. I thought, though, that even if the appointment took 2 hours and I left there at 12:30 I'd still have enough time to drop Logan off at home and go to my appointment.

Mapquest and the car's navigation said that it would be a 38 minute drive to the doctor's office in Newton. Of course, being the ridiculously-anal-about-punctuality person that I am, I thought leaving at 9:30 was the perfect option. In the paperwork the doctor's office had sent, they told me to please arrive 15 minutes before the scheduled appointment time. I had bags of time. The speed limit was 65, and I'll confess to usually going 75, but I tootled along right at 65. I was actually nervous that I'd be too early and have to entertain Logan in the boring waiting room for a long time.

I got onto I93 around Exit 35, I think. Around Exit 32, all I saw in front of me was a sea of brake lights. According to the car's navigation, I still had another 10 miles to travel on 93. I kept hoping for the traffic to break, but it just didn't. I searched for the traffic report on AM radio and finally got it - there was a massive issue at Exit 27, with major delays on 93. At the speed I was going (a whopping 5mph), it would have taken me 2 hours to go the remaining 10 miles. By this time it was 10:15, and I was getting nervous. I really do hate being late - I think it is a sign of disrespect. Of course I understood that I had no control over the situation, but I still felt bad.

I decided that since I had the navigation system, I'd get off the highway and use local roads to bypass the traffic. I thought i was one smart cookie! Well, it turns out that everyone else had the same idea, and the same navigation system telling them to go the same way.

Finally, finally, I reached the doctor's office. Unfortunately for me, it was located in the most confusing hospital ever built. It seems they've done a lot of construction at this hospital, but instead of doing it in a streamlined fashion they did it very choppily - a building here, a connecting hallway there, another building over there... and there are too many descriptors - White Building, Blue Building, Green Building, North Elevators, South Elevators, this hallway, that hallway... Even the information desk lady I asked directions from said it was a very confusing hospital!

Eventually we made it up to the doctor's office... at 11:10. I couldn't believe that a 38 minute trip had taken me almost 2 hours. Fortunately all the other patients were stuck in traffic too so we were seen almost immediately. They did the skin test on Logan, determined he had no allergies, and we were on our way... at 12:45. I did the math on the way out to the parking lot and realized there was no way I was going to make my 1:20 appointment. I called the doctor's office, but they're closed from 12 to 1 for lunch. Slackers!

At 1:02, from my car, I called my docs to tell them I'd be late... around 1:45-ish. She said that was no problem, and that I'd be the last appointment of the day with no one behind me, so it was okay if I was even a little bit later than that.

At around 1:30, I dropped Logan off at home with the babysitter. Fortunately she is also our cleaning lady, so she was already at the house doing the cleaning. She got Logan's lunch together (the poor kid was starving) while I made a mad dash to the ladies' room and then back out to the car.

I arrived at the doctor's office at 1:45 on the dot, and got all checked in. I settled into a chair in the waiting room with the latest issue of Family Circle, which had the yummiest-looking Oreo-encrusted, cream cheese filling-filled, whipped cream-frosted cake on the cover. I was reading the recipe when the receptionist called me over to say they were sorry, but the CAT scan machine was broken, but it should be ready around 3:00. It wasn't even 1:00 yet, so obviously I couldn't wait. I asked her if they could call me when it was ready, and I'd either be able to come back in if the babysitter could stay, or I'd have to reschedule. She asked if she should call on the 960 number, which is my cell phone. I said she could, or she could try me at home first. We reviewed both numbers to make sure they had them in my paperwork - they did.

I decided to go into to town to get some $$ from the ATM to pay the babysitter/cleaning lady, and to stop by CVS to pick up Logan's prescriptions from the allergist appointment. The doctor had called them in hours earlier so I figured they'd be all set. The CVS lady said they were ready, they just needed to be "checked." I'm assuming this is some of type of cover-your-ass double checking policy they have to make sure the right meds are in the patient's bag, with the right instructions. I saw the logic in that. She said they'd be ready in 10 minutes. I grabbed People magazine, sat in yet another waiting room chair, and read about poor Jett Travolta.

10 minutes passed... 15 minutes... 20 minutes... 25 minutes. After 30 minutes I was starting to get irate. And anxious again because it was getting close to 3:00 and I didn't want to miss the phone call from the CAT scan people. I went up to the cash registers... there was a lady who didn't seem to be doing anything of value. I said, "Excuse me," in my best frustrated customer voice, and when she finally turned around I said, "You don't look very busy. Can you please help me?" I was kind of hoping she detected my frustration. I'm not often a bitch like that! I explained that 30 minutes prior, I'd been told my rx would be ready in 10 minutes. I gave her the name, and she picked Logan's meds up from the basket marked with our last initial. She said it had been put away because it hadn't been marked that I was waiting. Who knows how long they'd been there - probably 20 minutes! Argh!

I finally left CVS at 2:50. I couldn't believe how long it had taken. I got home just before 3:00. The light on the answering machine was glowing, indicating there was a message. Sandi, the cleaning babysitter, said she saw on the caller ID that it was my doctor's office, but they hadn't left a message. I called the office, explained who I was and what had happened. The lady I'd spoken to at the office came on the line and said, "I called you 25 minutes ago. The CAT scan technician left." She said it in a not-so-nice way, which really pissed me off. I really felt like dropping some f-bombs, especially as the stress of the whole day was finally settling in, but decided against it because I knew I'd have to see her again. I did explain however that she told me it would be ready around 3:00, and it was just 3:00 right then. I should have asked why the technician left when I was told to be ready at 3:00. I should have asked why they didn't call my cell phone, when I knew they had the number right there. Granted, I told them to call me at home, expecting that my CVS debacle wouldn't have taken 30+ minutes, but still - they could have used logic and called my cell phone when they didn't get me at home.

Argh!

So this is totally like one of those Domino Effect scenarios... or Butterfly Effects - a butterfly flaps its wings in Cincinnati, altering the weather pattern in New York, slowing down a flock of geese, causing their flight path to directly intersect with that of an oncoming US Airways flight. I couldn't help thinking that if there hadn't been the initial downed power line in Waltham, I wouldn't have been stuck in traffic, so I would have left Logan's appointment earlier, and been able to make my originally scheduled CAT scan appointment at 1:20.

What a day!

Growing Up

I've come to the realization over the past week or so that my boys are growing up.

Ben's vocabulary seems to increase every day, and I think "school" is having a big influence on this. Yesterday, for the first time, he spontaneously sang the ABC's. Of course he only got as far as G, but I'll take it! And today at lunch he broke out into a lovely rendition of "Baa Baa Black Sheep." I remembered seeing his on his daily communication sheet from school yesterday that they'd sung that song. It seems to have made a big impression on Ben! His favorite part is "Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full." After that line he breaks out in huge laughs. So cute!

Today after his nap (which he took sitting in the glider in his room - this is the 2nd time in 4 days he's fallen asleep somewhere in his room other than his bed. On Sunday he fell asleep in the middle of the floor. Weird!) Logan and I went up to Ben's room to change his diaper and hang out for a little while before coming back downstairs. I asked Ben if he had a good nap, to which he replied, "I sure did!" How stinking cute is that?

Logan seems to be advancing almost every day too, except his milestones are more oriented towards gross motor skills. He's walking about 50% of the time now, and a few days ago he learned how to stand up without holding onto anything. The kid's got hamstrings of steel, I swear. He does squats just for fun, in the kitchen. Reminds me I should be doing squats regularly if I intend to wear a bathing suit on our family trip to St. Lucia in March. Doh.

Logan is also 1 year old now! I couldn't help feeling a little sad on his birthday because I feel like he got cheated out of so much of his first year. Steve was travelling from the time Logan was 2 weeks old, up until the move when he was 9 months. That was one of the hardest times of my life, and I'm afraid that it will have affected Logan. I spent so much of that time sad, mad, impatient, resentful toward Steve for being home only on the weekends, and a host of other feelings. It was so different from Ben's first year, when Steve's work schedule allowed him to not just be home every night, but home in time for dinner to boot.

Anyway... we're together as a family again and that's the most important thing. We'll work on family dinners together in the future I guess :)