I crept down to the scary, dank, basement to retrieve something from storage. There lay Gracie, abandoned and forgotten. At one point, Gracie had been the most important "friend" Ellie had, but her time had long since passed. I bought Gracie when Ellie was going through chemotherapy so she would have a special friend to take with her each week during hospital time. When Ellie would become upset, we would say, "Gracie feels so sad and scared, what should we tell her?" And Ellie would stop crying to comfort her baby, telling Gracie that everything would be OK.
The first time we brought Gracie in and it worked so well, our nurse, Becky exclaimed how much she loved Gracie because Gracie made her job so much easier. Becky was one of those phenomenal people that make the rest of us feel like slackers. Not only has she adopted something like 4 children from the foster care system, but she works as a nurse, and she runs a business. Becky was an astounding nurse and someone that made going through chemo with a 4-year-old that much easier because we knew she was on our side. At one point, she was at a Candlelighters luncheon and I went over to tell her how much her exceptional care had meant to all of us. She teared up when I told her and she said that she always felt so horrible giving Ellie her chemo because it felt so much as if she were hurting Ellie (or Zeba Beba Donna Sandy as she called herself at the time, but that is a different blog all together).
Once when Ellie was in the PICU, she was covered in tubes. She had gone into respiratory arrest and when she started to come out of the sedation, she was panicked when she felt all the tubes emanating from her body. She become really agitated and tried to get out of bed. I had Gracie on the bed with Ellie and put Gracie into Ellie's arms. She closed her eyes and began to rub Gracie's head as she calmed down immediately. That was the magic of Gracie.
Before Gracie, Ellie had been given a doll named Tabitha. Ellie's relationship with Tabitha was not quite as tender as her relationship with Gracie. Ellie's favorite game with Tabitha was to throw her down the stairs. Tabitha had some kind of battery inside of her that allowed her to "talk". When her battery started to run out, the talking would not stop and she was like something out of a horror movie. Garbled, deep sounds emanated from her body that would not subside. Quite frightening I've gotta tell you. Finally, Tabitha, after one too many tosses down the stairs lost the use of one of her open-close eyes. One eye remained permanently shut. We used this to our advantage by taking her with us to the eye doctor once to find out if anything could be done, or at the very least get a fancy name for the one eye won't open
syndrome. There is a name for it, by the way, but I cannot recall what it is, for it was in fact, quite long and quite fancy.
Ellie was done with Gracie a while ago, maybe a year or so. I however was not. I could not just give Gracie to the thrift store as I do most toys that we are finished with. She had just meant too much to us at too many pivotal times. So instead, I held onto her which is why I found her abandoned in the basement. Suddenly it hit me that the couple across the street have a beautiful 6 month old who would most likely give Gracie loads of lovin'. My hope for baby Juna is that when she has her moments of fear or upset that Baby Gracie will give her the same special magic that she gave to Ellie when she needed it most.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Wendy the Wonderful
[caption id="attachment_397" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Brave on so many fronts..."]
[/caption]
My friend Wendy is turning 40 on Sunday, November 23. This blog is dedicated to her and all that she has added to our life. Wendy (or Maude as she would prefer to be called) is the kind of friend my sister told me about. The kind of friend who is allowed to enter your home without knocking, at some point you just get past the whole knocking thing.
During our whole summer of crazy, Wendy stood firmly by our sides. She never flinched at our crazy moments, but just let them pass and move on. (OK, maybe an occasional eye roll or slight flinch, but who could blame her?) When others dropped us because they couldn't take all the crying or screaming, Wendy stood by our side. When others ran from our home, Wendy continued to come to our house for oh so crazy, LOUD playdates. She was not dissuaded by the crazy that had temporarily taken residence of our home.
The first time I met Wendy was at bookclub. She was telling the group how frustrated she was at making friends in her new town of Middleton (right next door to Madison and voted best city of the year by Money Magazine. I guess not best city at being able to make friends easily, however.) I decided right then and there that we would be friends.
It would be a toss up deciding who in my family loves Wendy most. Every single time Wendy comes over, Ellie talks and talks and talks about how much fun we had and wonders when Wendy & Max (her adorable son) can come again. Thom said he likes that Wendy keeps me entertained, so he doesn't have to.
When Wendy was pregnant with Max, she would come over at least once a week to read and hang out with Ellie. This was most helpful to me as it gave me time to hang out with the then Baby Ben without feeling as if I were completely ignoring Ellie.
When Ellie was in the hospital last spring, Wendy often took Ben for the day so that Thom could sleep or go to the office while I went to the hospital to stay with Ellie. She told me that she was practicing for when Max would be a toddler. Afterwards, she would tell me that Ben would do things that really made sense to a 3-year-old, but maybe not to anybody else. I knew then that Ben was in good hands because Wendy was thinking where Ben was coming from, not where she wanted Ben to come from. And Ben was so proud to be spending time with his buddy Max and his friend, Wendy. If she saw that it would be easier for us if she dropped Ben off at home or at the hospital she would do that even if it was NOT at all easier for her. And she never ever acted as if she were doing us a big favor, even though she was completely.
Around Halloween Wendy phoned and Ben asked to speak with her. Ben asked Wendy what she was going to be for Halloween. Wendy responded by telling Ben what Max was going to be for Halloween, to which Ben responded by asking again what Wendy was going to be. Ben doesn't just think of Wendy as his buddy Max's mommy, he thinks of Wendy as his friend too. He likes her hugs most of all.
Top things I like about Wendy:
1. Humor
Her sense of humor. If I tell a Senfield joke, she gets it. Not everyone gets those references. It is important. She loves to laugh and she is quick witted. Honestly, I am not sure if I could be good friends with someone who didn't have a good sense of humor. Serious in any long term way just doesn't work for me.
2. Mothering
She is a fantastic mom. You can tell she adores Max, even when she's annoyed with him you can see her love shining through. That's saying something. She is understanding when I am striving to be the mom that I want to be but I am not in that moment.
3. Listening
She really listens. I mean really listens as if what I am saying is of the utmost importance. When I was telling her recently how Ellie has trouble if she starts thinking of things as "twins" if those objects are separated from one another. It feels obsessive, as if Ellie is stuck in some kind of thought circle that she can't climb out of . Wendy nodded her head as if, first of all, what I was saying was actually interesting and, second of all, as if she understood what I was saying. Man, how wonderful to be understood by someone.
4. Intelligence
She is intelligent. When I told her that Ellie might not be cerebral salt wasting anymore, she said "Yeah", as if I'd already told her this information. Startled, I asked her if I'd already told her about that, because I didn't think I'd told anyone. She told me that when she looked up cerebral salt wasting it made sense to her that it would end after Ellie's surgery. I mean a friend that is actually INTERESTED in all of this medical mumbo jumbo, are you kidding me? On her own time, she looked up Ellie's myriad of medical conditions just because she wanted to know. As Mary Poppins before her, she is practically perfect in every way.
5. Memory
She will remember all those trivial details of what I like and don't like even after I've forgotten. I like that she is thoughtful enough to recall these details. It's not earth-shattering but it makes me feel important.
6. PJ comofortable
I love being around Wendy because I can just be myself. I can be pjs or sweats. I don't have to always be shiny (although I often am if she is around). I can sometimes be grumpy or sleepy or hungry or impatient and she will still be there. She might look at me funny, but she will not run screaming from my house. To me, right now, that is probably the most important characteristic of a friend.
Our lives certainly would not be as sunny funny without our superb friend, Wendy. Happy birthday, Wendy. You make 40 look fantastic!
[/caption]My friend Wendy is turning 40 on Sunday, November 23. This blog is dedicated to her and all that she has added to our life. Wendy (or Maude as she would prefer to be called) is the kind of friend my sister told me about. The kind of friend who is allowed to enter your home without knocking, at some point you just get past the whole knocking thing.
During our whole summer of crazy, Wendy stood firmly by our sides. She never flinched at our crazy moments, but just let them pass and move on. (OK, maybe an occasional eye roll or slight flinch, but who could blame her?) When others dropped us because they couldn't take all the crying or screaming, Wendy stood by our side. When others ran from our home, Wendy continued to come to our house for oh so crazy, LOUD playdates. She was not dissuaded by the crazy that had temporarily taken residence of our home.
The first time I met Wendy was at bookclub. She was telling the group how frustrated she was at making friends in her new town of Middleton (right next door to Madison and voted best city of the year by Money Magazine. I guess not best city at being able to make friends easily, however.) I decided right then and there that we would be friends.
It would be a toss up deciding who in my family loves Wendy most. Every single time Wendy comes over, Ellie talks and talks and talks about how much fun we had and wonders when Wendy & Max (her adorable son) can come again. Thom said he likes that Wendy keeps me entertained, so he doesn't have to.
When Wendy was pregnant with Max, she would come over at least once a week to read and hang out with Ellie. This was most helpful to me as it gave me time to hang out with the then Baby Ben without feeling as if I were completely ignoring Ellie.
When Ellie was in the hospital last spring, Wendy often took Ben for the day so that Thom could sleep or go to the office while I went to the hospital to stay with Ellie. She told me that she was practicing for when Max would be a toddler. Afterwards, she would tell me that Ben would do things that really made sense to a 3-year-old, but maybe not to anybody else. I knew then that Ben was in good hands because Wendy was thinking where Ben was coming from, not where she wanted Ben to come from. And Ben was so proud to be spending time with his buddy Max and his friend, Wendy. If she saw that it would be easier for us if she dropped Ben off at home or at the hospital she would do that even if it was NOT at all easier for her. And she never ever acted as if she were doing us a big favor, even though she was completely.
Around Halloween Wendy phoned and Ben asked to speak with her. Ben asked Wendy what she was going to be for Halloween. Wendy responded by telling Ben what Max was going to be for Halloween, to which Ben responded by asking again what Wendy was going to be. Ben doesn't just think of Wendy as his buddy Max's mommy, he thinks of Wendy as his friend too. He likes her hugs most of all.
Top things I like about Wendy:
1. Humor
Her sense of humor. If I tell a Senfield joke, she gets it. Not everyone gets those references. It is important. She loves to laugh and she is quick witted. Honestly, I am not sure if I could be good friends with someone who didn't have a good sense of humor. Serious in any long term way just doesn't work for me.
2. Mothering
She is a fantastic mom. You can tell she adores Max, even when she's annoyed with him you can see her love shining through. That's saying something. She is understanding when I am striving to be the mom that I want to be but I am not in that moment.
3. Listening
She really listens. I mean really listens as if what I am saying is of the utmost importance. When I was telling her recently how Ellie has trouble if she starts thinking of things as "twins" if those objects are separated from one another. It feels obsessive, as if Ellie is stuck in some kind of thought circle that she can't climb out of . Wendy nodded her head as if, first of all, what I was saying was actually interesting and, second of all, as if she understood what I was saying. Man, how wonderful to be understood by someone.
4. Intelligence
She is intelligent. When I told her that Ellie might not be cerebral salt wasting anymore, she said "Yeah", as if I'd already told her this information. Startled, I asked her if I'd already told her about that, because I didn't think I'd told anyone. She told me that when she looked up cerebral salt wasting it made sense to her that it would end after Ellie's surgery. I mean a friend that is actually INTERESTED in all of this medical mumbo jumbo, are you kidding me? On her own time, she looked up Ellie's myriad of medical conditions just because she wanted to know. As Mary Poppins before her, she is practically perfect in every way.
5. Memory
She will remember all those trivial details of what I like and don't like even after I've forgotten. I like that she is thoughtful enough to recall these details. It's not earth-shattering but it makes me feel important.
6. PJ comofortable
I love being around Wendy because I can just be myself. I can be pjs or sweats. I don't have to always be shiny (although I often am if she is around). I can sometimes be grumpy or sleepy or hungry or impatient and she will still be there. She might look at me funny, but she will not run screaming from my house. To me, right now, that is probably the most important characteristic of a friend.
Our lives certainly would not be as sunny funny without our superb friend, Wendy. Happy birthday, Wendy. You make 40 look fantastic!
Monday, November 17, 2008
the DMV
[caption id="attachment_231" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="The DMV cannot keep Super Ben down!"]
[/caption]
This past March, I was sent a notice from the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) informing me it was time to have my driver's license renewed. Outside of my basement, the DMV is one of my least favorite destinations in Madison. The DMV gave me plenty of time to accomplish this renewal task. However, I kept delaying going on this somewhat unpleasant journey.
Finally, I was up against the clock. I had only one week left to renew my license. I was discussing this with someone that I work out with (who happens to be a funeral director which I find fascinating not at all what I would envision a funeral director being--she is lively and energetic and really funny.) As I was telling her how I was trying to decide if I should get a babysitter or take my children with me. She strongly suggested that I take my children. I mean other people must take their children, too, what could be the big deal??
[caption id="attachment_355" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Just because bear ears are cute"]
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The day of the DMV trip arrived. I got the children all dressed and ready to go. We piled into the car and I prepared myself mentally for the task ahead. In some strange way, I felt as if I were preparing myself for our brain surgery that would happen in a month. If I could conquer the DMV with 2 small children in tow, brain surgery would be a breeze. Little did I know what was in store for me.
When we arrived, the DMV was much more crowded than I had imagined it would be in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. I thought (or was desperately hoping) that it would be empty. We obtained a number and went to wait near the cameras.
[caption id="attachment_142" align="alignleft" width="287" caption="Ellie pretends to have her DMV photo taken."]
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We waited and waited and waited. While we waited, Ben walked up and down the empty chairs and walk/ran laps around the DMV waiting room. Ellie continually asked me when we could leave. She also sang a really loud song. You would be surprised how many people do NOT appreciate the entertainment value of my children. It is shocking when the people around me do not recognize the obvious talent my children are providing and for FREE. My children can barely contain all that talent in those small bodies. You may think I am merely a proud mama. But I am not lying about this, any one of their grandparents will back me up. We waited some more, watching anxiously as the "to serve" numbers changed on the board.
Finally finally finally, I was the very next number. More excited I have never been. Suddenly, Ellie got that look on her face like something was about to come flying outta her body (aka throwing up, vomiting, regurgitating). I looked around frantically. Oh man, the bathroom was entirely on the other side of the rather large waiting room. I knew that if we went to the bathroom right then I would completely lose my place in line. What to do?? What to do?? I found a trashcan nearby, which I quickly scooped up and ran over placing it near Ellie's feet. Sweet Ellie closed her mouth up tight and said, "I'll just hold it in." And much to my surprise, this technique worked.
[caption id="attachment_385" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Do you have a license sir?"]
[/caption]
One of the DMV workers noticed my dilemma and asked me, "Is there anything I can do?" And I started stammering that Ellie wasn't feeling well, that I thought she was going to be ok now, that my number was next in line. He asked again, more insistently this time, "Can I help you?" Still not understanding that he meant he would go ahead and renew my license, I stammered out another incoherent way-too-much information response. When I didn't take the hint, he finally changed the numbers on the counter to say MY number.
I approached the window and left Ellie sitting in a chair where I could see her. Ben decided to hide under one of those tall counters used for standing and writing. He pretended he was hiding in a cave. This was fine, except that he was in one direction and Ellie was in the other. Taking the eye exam was the hardest part because then the children were truly in an unsupervised state, at least from me.
When I completed the eye exam, I was excited that we were very near the end of our stay at the DMV. The gentleman who was helping me, suddenly said, "Oh no." And I felt my stomach sink. The computers were down. I don't know what we did before computers. Everyone was scrambling trying to figure out how to proceed with no computer support. Finally, I was given a written copy of my driver's license (or driverslicence as Ellie used to say.)
Then we proceeded over to the area for a new photo. Ben was highly disappointed that he could not be included in the photo. I thought that would be an even better picture, the last time I had my DMV photo taken, I was pregnant with Ben. Ellie and Ben sat on a little sofa together waiting for me to complete my
[caption id="attachment_143" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="After the first Wisconsin DMV photo..."]
[/caption]
photo. Ben kept getting up and running over to see if there was anything he could do to help with either the photographing or the computers.
When I told my work-out buddy the whole DMV experience, she looked shocked that I had taken her advice. She stammered, "I don't have any kids, you shouldn't listen to my advice about children."
When I went to the DMV last time I took 4-year-old Ellie and everyone there was entertained by her wanting to talk and look at magazines. They even opened a new line so that we could go through more quickly. The lesson I've learned from all this is that it may actually be beneficial to bring my children to the DMV with me for better service. At the very least, it gives me something to blog about.
[/caption]This past March, I was sent a notice from the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) informing me it was time to have my driver's license renewed. Outside of my basement, the DMV is one of my least favorite destinations in Madison. The DMV gave me plenty of time to accomplish this renewal task. However, I kept delaying going on this somewhat unpleasant journey.
Finally, I was up against the clock. I had only one week left to renew my license. I was discussing this with someone that I work out with (who happens to be a funeral director which I find fascinating not at all what I would envision a funeral director being--she is lively and energetic and really funny.) As I was telling her how I was trying to decide if I should get a babysitter or take my children with me. She strongly suggested that I take my children. I mean other people must take their children, too, what could be the big deal??
[caption id="attachment_355" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Just because bear ears are cute"]
[/caption]The day of the DMV trip arrived. I got the children all dressed and ready to go. We piled into the car and I prepared myself mentally for the task ahead. In some strange way, I felt as if I were preparing myself for our brain surgery that would happen in a month. If I could conquer the DMV with 2 small children in tow, brain surgery would be a breeze. Little did I know what was in store for me.
When we arrived, the DMV was much more crowded than I had imagined it would be in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday. I thought (or was desperately hoping) that it would be empty. We obtained a number and went to wait near the cameras.
[caption id="attachment_142" align="alignleft" width="287" caption="Ellie pretends to have her DMV photo taken."]
[/caption]We waited and waited and waited. While we waited, Ben walked up and down the empty chairs and walk/ran laps around the DMV waiting room. Ellie continually asked me when we could leave. She also sang a really loud song. You would be surprised how many people do NOT appreciate the entertainment value of my children. It is shocking when the people around me do not recognize the obvious talent my children are providing and for FREE. My children can barely contain all that talent in those small bodies. You may think I am merely a proud mama. But I am not lying about this, any one of their grandparents will back me up. We waited some more, watching anxiously as the "to serve" numbers changed on the board.
Finally finally finally, I was the very next number. More excited I have never been. Suddenly, Ellie got that look on her face like something was about to come flying outta her body (aka throwing up, vomiting, regurgitating). I looked around frantically. Oh man, the bathroom was entirely on the other side of the rather large waiting room. I knew that if we went to the bathroom right then I would completely lose my place in line. What to do?? What to do?? I found a trashcan nearby, which I quickly scooped up and ran over placing it near Ellie's feet. Sweet Ellie closed her mouth up tight and said, "I'll just hold it in." And much to my surprise, this technique worked.
[caption id="attachment_385" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Do you have a license sir?"]
[/caption]One of the DMV workers noticed my dilemma and asked me, "Is there anything I can do?" And I started stammering that Ellie wasn't feeling well, that I thought she was going to be ok now, that my number was next in line. He asked again, more insistently this time, "Can I help you?" Still not understanding that he meant he would go ahead and renew my license, I stammered out another incoherent way-too-much information response. When I didn't take the hint, he finally changed the numbers on the counter to say MY number.
I approached the window and left Ellie sitting in a chair where I could see her. Ben decided to hide under one of those tall counters used for standing and writing. He pretended he was hiding in a cave. This was fine, except that he was in one direction and Ellie was in the other. Taking the eye exam was the hardest part because then the children were truly in an unsupervised state, at least from me.
When I completed the eye exam, I was excited that we were very near the end of our stay at the DMV. The gentleman who was helping me, suddenly said, "Oh no." And I felt my stomach sink. The computers were down. I don't know what we did before computers. Everyone was scrambling trying to figure out how to proceed with no computer support. Finally, I was given a written copy of my driver's license (or driverslicence as Ellie used to say.)
Then we proceeded over to the area for a new photo. Ben was highly disappointed that he could not be included in the photo. I thought that would be an even better picture, the last time I had my DMV photo taken, I was pregnant with Ben. Ellie and Ben sat on a little sofa together waiting for me to complete my
[caption id="attachment_143" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="After the first Wisconsin DMV photo..."]
[/caption]photo. Ben kept getting up and running over to see if there was anything he could do to help with either the photographing or the computers.
When I told my work-out buddy the whole DMV experience, she looked shocked that I had taken her advice. She stammered, "I don't have any kids, you shouldn't listen to my advice about children."
When I went to the DMV last time I took 4-year-old Ellie and everyone there was entertained by her wanting to talk and look at magazines. They even opened a new line so that we could go through more quickly. The lesson I've learned from all this is that it may actually be beneficial to bring my children to the DMV with me for better service. At the very least, it gives me something to blog about.
Friday, November 7, 2008
Mermaid Cafe
[caption id="attachment_140" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Coffee Happy"]
[/caption]Mermaid Cafe coffee makes me happy. Now, you may be wondering if all coffee makes me happy. But, alas, no, some coffee makes me mean and grumpy. Nobody wants that. Particularly my children. My favorite coffee outside of Mermaid Cafe is hotel coffee. When I was a counselor on Chicago's west side, we often had trainings at a chain hotel (it rhymes with champton bin). They had the BEST coffee and that is when I first discovered my love of hotel coffee.
But I digress. Mermaid Cafe opened somewhat recently in my neighborhood. It is a fantastic place. One of the things we like about it is that they have a cozy chair for Ellie to sit on. Another thing we like about it is they have a play area with an etch-a-sketch near the cozy chair previously mentioned. And they have super yummy chocolate muffins that are half chocolate half chocolate chip cheesecake (brilliant!). As you can well imagine, we frequented Mermaid Cafe quite often this past summer. It was a nice little walk (only a few blocks, when that was all Ellie was able to do) and highly comfortable for us.
[caption id="attachment_153" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ben reads with Elmo"]
[/caption]One day we were eating lunch at Mermaid Cafe. Yes, I didn't want to send you over the edge, but they also offer yummy sandwiches (grilled cheese is Ben's favorite--he is afterall a Wisconsin boy) and delicious soup. As you may or may not know, Ben and Ellie are really really good at throwing up. I never ever worry that Ben is going to choke on anything b/c anything that gets stuck comes right on back up (he gets that from Thom). It's practically a super power. Well, as we were sitting enjoying our lunch, Ben started gagging on something he was eating. We were sitting near the bathrooms (I know, why did we choose to sit near the bathrooms you may wonder, and now I am wondering also). I thought that I could grab Ben and get him into the bathroom before he really blew. But alas, as I tried to grab his body out of the chair, his legs got stuck in the back of the chair (he was sitting on his knees) and he was stuck good. When he became unstuck, the chair flew to the ground making a very loud banging sound. Ellie started screaming at all of this startling commotion. As I was taking care of Ben in the bathroom, I was trying to prop the door open so that I could reassure Ellie that we were OK. The owner, Lisa, came over and very calmly asked, "What can I do to help?" She quickly assessed the situation. She grabbed Ellie by the hand and said, "Why don't you come and help me?" Which, had the effect of immediately calming Ellie down. Ellie helped her clean up the table and I was able to help Ben finish his very important and messy business. It was one of the most helpful things anyone did all of our crazy summer. Typically, others just stare or gawk or glare or smile when we have our crazy moment, making me feel on stage displaying all of our naked crazy parts. It may not seem polite to jump in and offer assistance, but when the woman at Mermaid Cafe offered assistance it was hugely helpful to me.
[caption id="attachment_146" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ellie, Ben & I"]
[/caption]Recently, I went into to Mermaid Cafe for some morning muffins. During my morning workout, the instructor had informed us to listen to our bodies, to which I responded, "My body says it wants MUFFINS!" Yes, I said it out loud, it's harder to sensor myself at 6:30am. Well, when I showed up at Mermaid Cafe to obtain the muffins my body desperately needed, the two workers there were discussing new aprons and how excited they were. I thought this sounded exciting myself and told them so. Instead of looking at me snidely as if I should mind my own business, they told me that I was just their kind of customer. That's the thing when I come to Mermaid Cafe, I do feel like the "right" kind of customer, I feel like I fit in, like I belong to a bigger community. Now when we pass by Mermaid Cafe on our way to school, some of the people working there will wave hello to Ellie. I am so thankful to have a coffee shop nearby where we can get yummy food and happy coffee and feel completely at comfortable even if crazy happens to slip out.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The illusion
[caption id="attachment_335" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Why we do not take family photos"]
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There is a woman who lives in my neighborhood who brings her son round every year to sell me things to support the organization he is involved with. I remember so clearly how agonizing it was for me to sell girl scout cookies door-to-door. So every year I buy something from him as he nervously stands on my front porch.
Well, when Ellie started school I noticed this woman on the school grounds. So, when I would see her, I would smile and wave. She however, would not even acknowledge my existence. At first I thought, well maybe she didn't remember me. But after a
[caption id="attachment_338" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Exhibit B"]
[/caption]
couple of times I started to get a little annoyed, I mean who did she think she was? I knew that the next time her son was selling something she would be at my door as nice as could be. But if she saw me on the street, she wouldn't even say "hi". Rude. That's what I call that. The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became, knowing that I would not be able to refuse her son when he showed up on my doorstep.
One day as we were walking home from school I saw her walking towards us. I didn't realize it was her at first, because my first thought was how the person walking towards us seemed to have some difficulty seeing. Then it suddenly hit me that she couldn't see very well and THAT was why she wasn't acknowledging me. She wasn't trying to be rude, she just could not see who I was. Boy, color me stupid.
[caption id="attachment_339" align="alignright" width="270" caption="As if you needed even more evidence"]
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The whole scenario reminded me of a story told in a book by Ronald Regan's daughter. (This is in no way an endorsement for Ronald Regan and his politics which I know very little about. I am not as astute as my sister-in-law, Sara, in matters of politics. When Ronald Regan was president, I was in high school and college and had much more important things to focus on. Like how high my bangs could stand up. Or which socks best matched my shirt.) In the book, Patty Davis talked about how one day she and her father were in a grocery store and the clerk was rather short with them. As they were leaving, Patty said something about how rude the clerk had been. Her father stopped her and told her that they really didn't know anything about the clerk's life so it was not their place to judge how she was acting because they did not have all the information to do so.
[caption id="attachment_337" align="alignleft" width="270" caption="Missing family member"]
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There was a morning within the last year when we were out to breakfast and Ellie was consuming a bag of potato chips. A passerby sarcestically commented how Ellie was really having a nutritious breakfast. At the time, Thom told this person that it actually was good for Ellie. How could chips possibly be good for you? If your sodium is low, as Ellie's was, a bag of chips is not the worst thing to be eating. Not everything as a simple as it seems.
Once Ellie was having a seizure and we were racing through Madison trying to get her to the hospital. We were driving crazy because we had been told that if Ellie went into a seizure and wasn't coming out of it, she could have brain damage or get to the point where she could not come out of it. As we were driving through red lights and in the bus lanes, I thought of how the other drivers had no idea that we were having a medical emergency, that we were not just being idiot drivers. I thought of all the times I had been offended by someone else's driving and vowed to not be again because how could I possibly know what was going on in their car?
[caption id="attachment_129" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Jenny & Bella"]
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We were in a restaurant a few years ago with our great friend, Jenny, and her family. Ellie was not feeling well, I don't recall if she was undergoing chemo or getting ready for surgery or she'd just had surgery. Whatever was happening, she was struggling through something and just not feeling well. When we went to this restaurant together, Ellie suddenly and loudly started losing it--crying, yelling, screaming, totally and completely inconsolable. We knew that Ellie was not really upset about the fries or whatever she claimed to be upset about at that moment. We knew that there was a lot more that she was upset about at that moment. At one point, Jenny looked at me, bewildered and said, "Nobody here knows what is really happening with Ellie." She meant that all the other patrons in the restaurant were making up stories of why Ellie was inconsolable. Perhaps Thom & I were bad parents who could not control their child. Perhaps Ellie was a bad seed. Perhaps the other patrons just wanted us to vacate the premises. But what I took from Jenny's statement was that really none of us knows what is really really going on with anyone else, even those closest to us.
In social psychology there is a theory that says that when we react to something we attribute our own reaction to environmental factors. We say, "Oh, it was Monday, that's why I was so grumpy." But if someone else has the same reaction, we often assign a characteristic or personality trait tto that person. "Man is he a grumpy person!" Typically we will give ourselves the benefit of the doubt, but we won't give the same benefit to others.
[caption id="attachment_341" align="alignleft" width="203" caption="Too tired for a family photo"]
[/caption]
My challenge to you on this election day is to give those around you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe even give yourself a break. If someone does something that you don't like, what if you just let it be and decided that you would not sit in judgement. I'm not talking about being fake nice or stuffing your anger (I am trained in psychology afterall). I am talking about deciding that maybe just maybe you don't know the whole story. What if the person who seems like such a jerk is really doing the very best he/she can? I envisioned what an amazing day it would be if we all just gave eachother a break. Plus you have the extra bonus of not feeling like a total idiot (like I did) when you realize that the other person actually can't see you. Imagine how good it would feel for just one day. (Maybe you could even right a "comment" to share your experience...)
[/caption]There is a woman who lives in my neighborhood who brings her son round every year to sell me things to support the organization he is involved with. I remember so clearly how agonizing it was for me to sell girl scout cookies door-to-door. So every year I buy something from him as he nervously stands on my front porch.
Well, when Ellie started school I noticed this woman on the school grounds. So, when I would see her, I would smile and wave. She however, would not even acknowledge my existence. At first I thought, well maybe she didn't remember me. But after a
[caption id="attachment_338" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Exhibit B"]
[/caption]couple of times I started to get a little annoyed, I mean who did she think she was? I knew that the next time her son was selling something she would be at my door as nice as could be. But if she saw me on the street, she wouldn't even say "hi". Rude. That's what I call that. The more I thought about it, the more annoyed I became, knowing that I would not be able to refuse her son when he showed up on my doorstep.
One day as we were walking home from school I saw her walking towards us. I didn't realize it was her at first, because my first thought was how the person walking towards us seemed to have some difficulty seeing. Then it suddenly hit me that she couldn't see very well and THAT was why she wasn't acknowledging me. She wasn't trying to be rude, she just could not see who I was. Boy, color me stupid.
[caption id="attachment_339" align="alignright" width="270" caption="As if you needed even more evidence"]
[/caption]The whole scenario reminded me of a story told in a book by Ronald Regan's daughter. (This is in no way an endorsement for Ronald Regan and his politics which I know very little about. I am not as astute as my sister-in-law, Sara, in matters of politics. When Ronald Regan was president, I was in high school and college and had much more important things to focus on. Like how high my bangs could stand up. Or which socks best matched my shirt.) In the book, Patty Davis talked about how one day she and her father were in a grocery store and the clerk was rather short with them. As they were leaving, Patty said something about how rude the clerk had been. Her father stopped her and told her that they really didn't know anything about the clerk's life so it was not their place to judge how she was acting because they did not have all the information to do so.
[caption id="attachment_337" align="alignleft" width="270" caption="Missing family member"]
[/caption]There was a morning within the last year when we were out to breakfast and Ellie was consuming a bag of potato chips. A passerby sarcestically commented how Ellie was really having a nutritious breakfast. At the time, Thom told this person that it actually was good for Ellie. How could chips possibly be good for you? If your sodium is low, as Ellie's was, a bag of chips is not the worst thing to be eating. Not everything as a simple as it seems.
Once Ellie was having a seizure and we were racing through Madison trying to get her to the hospital. We were driving crazy because we had been told that if Ellie went into a seizure and wasn't coming out of it, she could have brain damage or get to the point where she could not come out of it. As we were driving through red lights and in the bus lanes, I thought of how the other drivers had no idea that we were having a medical emergency, that we were not just being idiot drivers. I thought of all the times I had been offended by someone else's driving and vowed to not be again because how could I possibly know what was going on in their car?
[caption id="attachment_129" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Jenny & Bella"]
[/caption]We were in a restaurant a few years ago with our great friend, Jenny, and her family. Ellie was not feeling well, I don't recall if she was undergoing chemo or getting ready for surgery or she'd just had surgery. Whatever was happening, she was struggling through something and just not feeling well. When we went to this restaurant together, Ellie suddenly and loudly started losing it--crying, yelling, screaming, totally and completely inconsolable. We knew that Ellie was not really upset about the fries or whatever she claimed to be upset about at that moment. We knew that there was a lot more that she was upset about at that moment. At one point, Jenny looked at me, bewildered and said, "Nobody here knows what is really happening with Ellie." She meant that all the other patrons in the restaurant were making up stories of why Ellie was inconsolable. Perhaps Thom & I were bad parents who could not control their child. Perhaps Ellie was a bad seed. Perhaps the other patrons just wanted us to vacate the premises. But what I took from Jenny's statement was that really none of us knows what is really really going on with anyone else, even those closest to us.
In social psychology there is a theory that says that when we react to something we attribute our own reaction to environmental factors. We say, "Oh, it was Monday, that's why I was so grumpy." But if someone else has the same reaction, we often assign a characteristic or personality trait tto that person. "Man is he a grumpy person!" Typically we will give ourselves the benefit of the doubt, but we won't give the same benefit to others.
[caption id="attachment_341" align="alignleft" width="203" caption="Too tired for a family photo"]
[/caption]My challenge to you on this election day is to give those around you the benefit of the doubt. Maybe even give yourself a break. If someone does something that you don't like, what if you just let it be and decided that you would not sit in judgement. I'm not talking about being fake nice or stuffing your anger (I am trained in psychology afterall). I am talking about deciding that maybe just maybe you don't know the whole story. What if the person who seems like such a jerk is really doing the very best he/she can? I envisioned what an amazing day it would be if we all just gave eachother a break. Plus you have the extra bonus of not feeling like a total idiot (like I did) when you realize that the other person actually can't see you. Imagine how good it would feel for just one day. (Maybe you could even right a "comment" to share your experience...)
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Icky sickies
Early Tuesday morning, I woke up with that heart thumping "Oh, no, I'm gonna blow!" feeling. I raced into the bathroom. I won't get more graphic than that. I think you get the idea.Whenever I feel nauseated I think of all the many many many times that Ellie has felt nauseated. And then I feel worse. I know it is a pointless thought, but I am highly vulnerable to it when I am feeling poorly. I remember when Ellie was maybe two and I was setting dinner on the table and Ellie almost threw up. I thought that I could not go on living that way with Ellie so often gagging and retching at everything. Even eating certain foods around Ellie like a salad or a banana would cause her to retch. Or putting on lotion, not on her skin on my skin. Or washing my face, not her face, but my face. So many things seemed to set her off. It appeared that she was always at least slightly nauseated. At one point, it got so bad that we took her to the ER. The medical team just didn't know what to do to help her feel better, which left us feeling much worse and in search of solutions elsewhere.
[caption id="attachment_329" align="alignright" width="270" caption="Baby Ellie feeling good"]
[/caption]Just recently I have been finding take-out plastic bowls that we had strategically placed throughout the house to catch anything that might come flying out of Ellie at any given moment. I realized that it has been months and months since we were concerned about Ellie feeling nauseated. It was one of the dreams we had that so gradually came true that we failed to even notice it. I finally felt comfortable putting all those catch bowls back in the drawer because we don't need them anymore! I am filled with gratitude that Ellie is not feeling that way consistently like she used to. Ellie herself is surprised that she no longer feels the need to run out of the bathroom during lotion or face washing time. It is so freeing to live life without the dread of nausea constantly floating over our heads.
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