One day a couple of years ago, I decided I would set off for Milwaukee with my two children in tow to explore the Milwaukee Children's Museum. And in my mind, the real reason, to go to my all time favorite Milwaukee restaurant. The only Milwaukee restaurant every reviewed by our local artsy newspaper (the Isthmus). I was ready for an adventure, ready to explore new terrains. Both of my children slept almost the entire ride to Milwaukee (around an hour and a half), making it a highly peaceful ride. As we neared the city, I noticed there was some construction, thus the exit indicated in my directions was closed. As I began to slow down, both of my children woke up from their naps. As soon as Ellie woke up, she started earnestly discussing her desire to go home. RIGHT NOW. Oh boy, I thought, we've got trouble right here in this car. Well, I began to explain how we had just arrived in Milwaukee and we were almost at the restaurant and how we really needed to let Ben outta the car to run around a bit before heading back to Madison.
Ellie became really quiet in the backseat as I continued to ponder what to do if she pooped out this early in the trip. Suddenly, Ellie said to me, "We can go there now. My fun button was turned off and I just turned it back on." Brilliant. From their began our discussions of the Fun Button, which eventually morphed into the Jutton (joy + button). Now Ellie talks about juttons almost nonstop, handing them out to everyone she meets and insisting that others go to jabool (joy + button + school) to learn what a joy button is and its proper usage. No doubt if you have seen Ellie within the last 6 months, you have attended Jabool yourself.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
More tales of Ben
[caption id="attachment_2123" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ben adores taking photos."]
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One of the things that has impressed me most this summer is how Ben knows what to request that will increase the possibility of a "yes" response from his sister. He has not asked the entire summer to go to the park, which he knows is not a favored spot for his sister. Instead, he might ask to go to the beach or the library. However, as we have begun to discuss Ellie going back to school, he has started making plans to go to the park, the zoo, the coffee shop with the dinosaurs, all activities that Ellie would not enjoy. While Ellie has not had as much energy lately, we have not been able to do as much outside of the home or even have visitors,
[caption id="attachment_2126" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Hey! He actually got his whole face this time..."]
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while Ellie is resting. Ben has never complained.
Friday, we had planned to go to one of Ben's favorite libraries, it has TWO train tracks. All morning he talked about going to the
[caption id="attachment_2127" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="The Ben perspective of most people...legs."]
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library as I made meals and got everything ready to go. Every time Ellie would almost fall asleep, Ben would say rather loudly, "Ellie! Don't fall asleep!!" By the time I was ready for departure, Ellie's energy had taken a nose dive and she was no longer up for going. Oh boy, I had that highly uncomfortable feeling, known to mothers everywhere, of having to choose between my two beloved children. I sent Ellie upstairs for a rest and Ben and I
[caption id="attachment_2128" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Are heads REALLY necessary for a photo? "]
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discussed what we could do while Ellie rested. Ellie soon arose from her nap, ready to go to the library. Ben in the meantime had gotten hungry and was sitting down to yet another HUGE snack. He ate and ate and ate. By the time he was finished eating, Ellie's energy again had taken a downward turn. When Ellie said, "I don't feel up for going to the library." Ben responded with, "That's good because I changed my mind, I don't want to go to the library." As I sighed a big sigh of relief, I decided that going to see Ice Age 3, Return of the Dinosaurs would be a really special treat for Ben when Thom returned home from work.
One day, my neck was feeling a bit sore. As I lay on the bed nursing my injury, and taking advantage of the opportunity to be horizontal in the middle of the day, Ben suddenly
[caption id="attachment_2129" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="The photographer allows another to take his photo..."]
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looked at Ellie and myself and said, "You can't play because your head is broken." To which I sort of looked at him in surprise, I immediately thought of all the times Ellie has had her head cut open, making it appear as if her head is in fact, "broken". Ben sensing my shock, began backtracking and said, "No, I mean your NECK is broken." Oh yeah, now I get it.
When Ellie suddenly came up with the idea of a Silly Garden, Ben jumped in with silly faces, silly words, silly voices. He was all over creating a silly garden.
I just do not know how I would have survived this summer without Ben's willingness to find fun wherever he is, at home, at the park, in the bathroom. Without his laid back demeanor and understanding of his sister's needs, it would have been a MUCH MUCH more challenging summer.
[/caption]One of the things that has impressed me most this summer is how Ben knows what to request that will increase the possibility of a "yes" response from his sister. He has not asked the entire summer to go to the park, which he knows is not a favored spot for his sister. Instead, he might ask to go to the beach or the library. However, as we have begun to discuss Ellie going back to school, he has started making plans to go to the park, the zoo, the coffee shop with the dinosaurs, all activities that Ellie would not enjoy. While Ellie has not had as much energy lately, we have not been able to do as much outside of the home or even have visitors,
[caption id="attachment_2126" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Hey! He actually got his whole face this time..."]
[/caption]while Ellie is resting. Ben has never complained.
Friday, we had planned to go to one of Ben's favorite libraries, it has TWO train tracks. All morning he talked about going to the
[caption id="attachment_2127" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="The Ben perspective of most people...legs."]
[/caption]library as I made meals and got everything ready to go. Every time Ellie would almost fall asleep, Ben would say rather loudly, "Ellie! Don't fall asleep!!" By the time I was ready for departure, Ellie's energy had taken a nose dive and she was no longer up for going. Oh boy, I had that highly uncomfortable feeling, known to mothers everywhere, of having to choose between my two beloved children. I sent Ellie upstairs for a rest and Ben and I
[caption id="attachment_2128" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Are heads REALLY necessary for a photo? "]
[/caption]discussed what we could do while Ellie rested. Ellie soon arose from her nap, ready to go to the library. Ben in the meantime had gotten hungry and was sitting down to yet another HUGE snack. He ate and ate and ate. By the time he was finished eating, Ellie's energy again had taken a downward turn. When Ellie said, "I don't feel up for going to the library." Ben responded with, "That's good because I changed my mind, I don't want to go to the library." As I sighed a big sigh of relief, I decided that going to see Ice Age 3, Return of the Dinosaurs would be a really special treat for Ben when Thom returned home from work.
One day, my neck was feeling a bit sore. As I lay on the bed nursing my injury, and taking advantage of the opportunity to be horizontal in the middle of the day, Ben suddenly
[caption id="attachment_2129" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="The photographer allows another to take his photo..."]
[/caption]looked at Ellie and myself and said, "You can't play because your head is broken." To which I sort of looked at him in surprise, I immediately thought of all the times Ellie has had her head cut open, making it appear as if her head is in fact, "broken". Ben sensing my shock, began backtracking and said, "No, I mean your NECK is broken." Oh yeah, now I get it.
When Ellie suddenly came up with the idea of a Silly Garden, Ben jumped in with silly faces, silly words, silly voices. He was all over creating a silly garden.
I just do not know how I would have survived this summer without Ben's willingness to find fun wherever he is, at home, at the park, in the bathroom. Without his laid back demeanor and understanding of his sister's needs, it would have been a MUCH MUCH more challenging summer.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Hospital talk
[caption id="attachment_2110" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Just because I cannot resist a close up baby shot.."]
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The hospital is a world unto itself. It has its own particular time zone (aka "hospital time") and language (aka "medical jargon). Why do you think so many soap operas are set in hospitals? Lotta drama happening there. When Ellie was first diagnosed at 20 months, I spent 2 weeks with her in the hospital only leaving to shower at Ronald McDonald House down the street. My superb friend Betsy C. warned me that it would feel strange going back
out into the 'real' world after being so completely immersed in the hospital. I recall at one point taking a walk around the University of Chicago campus where the hospital was. It was a beautiful fall day and there were all these people out
[caption id="attachment_2113" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Cutey patooty baby Ben."]
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enjoying the unexpectedly beautiful fall day. Didn't they know my life was suddenly, inexplicably altered forever? How could anyone just be walking their dog when my life had changed so? It was definitely culture shock trying to re-emerge from the hospital back into a day-to-day routine.
Suddenly being back home means being responsible for all aspects of medical attention the hospital was previously
[caption id="attachment_2114" align="alignright" width="300" caption="New born Ben."]
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covering. Not only that but getting used to being around a lot fewer people takes some adjustment, particularly since Ellie may or may not be feeling up for many activities. Now that I understand the post-hospital let down, I am better able to prepare myself for it physically (by doing all the laundry, cooking, cleaning before her return) and psychologically by calling a friend or making plans for someone to visit us at home.
Then there is the adjustment from telling hospital personnel every detail of a physical condition to telling a neighbor
[caption id="attachment_2116" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Fun always seems to find Ben, even as a baby."]
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the generalities. Realizing that not everyone wants to know what a ventricle is. Or an astrocyte cell. Or any number of other things. How do you go back to discussing the weather and its implications when it feels as if something so much bigger is happening?
Sometimes, many times, it is hard to know how much to talk about all of this hospital/medical stuff. There is the perspective of ignoring it, pretending like it never happened. But then it has been such a big part of our experience thus far, it can be
[caption id="attachment_2117" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Newborn Ellie (then known as "Betsi".)"]
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bothersome to ignore it too. Sometimes the listener does not know how to respond when I speak of brain tumors or shunts or brain surgery or MRIs. Should they be sympathetic, nonchalant, ignore it? It's the people who respond by seeming downright uncomfortable that then I somehow talk about it even more. I will think, "OK, they are uncomfortable, don't talk
[caption id="attachment_2118" align="alignleft" width="225" caption="A favorite photo of her father."]
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about brain tumors any more." Which on a normal day is easy to do, but once I tell myself that, the only thing coming outta my mouth is more about brain tumors. Then I'll think, "Seriously, quit talking about brain tumors." And again, the next thing outta mouth is something medical. Once I told Ben's art teacher that his sister had a brain tumor. And she just responded with an, "OK" and then continued talking as if she heard about somebody having a brain tumor every day of the week. No biggie. It was refreshing just to be able to say it and not feel as if I had to comfort or reassure the listener that we are not a brain tumor, but are a family thriving. And it made me feel a little bit less real world culture shock.
[/caption]The hospital is a world unto itself. It has its own particular time zone (aka "hospital time") and language (aka "medical jargon). Why do you think so many soap operas are set in hospitals? Lotta drama happening there. When Ellie was first diagnosed at 20 months, I spent 2 weeks with her in the hospital only leaving to shower at Ronald McDonald House down the street. My superb friend Betsy C. warned me that it would feel strange going back
out into the 'real' world after being so completely immersed in the hospital. I recall at one point taking a walk around the University of Chicago campus where the hospital was. It was a beautiful fall day and there were all these people out[caption id="attachment_2113" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Cutey patooty baby Ben."]
[/caption]enjoying the unexpectedly beautiful fall day. Didn't they know my life was suddenly, inexplicably altered forever? How could anyone just be walking their dog when my life had changed so? It was definitely culture shock trying to re-emerge from the hospital back into a day-to-day routine.
Suddenly being back home means being responsible for all aspects of medical attention the hospital was previously
[caption id="attachment_2114" align="alignright" width="300" caption="New born Ben."]
[/caption]covering. Not only that but getting used to being around a lot fewer people takes some adjustment, particularly since Ellie may or may not be feeling up for many activities. Now that I understand the post-hospital let down, I am better able to prepare myself for it physically (by doing all the laundry, cooking, cleaning before her return) and psychologically by calling a friend or making plans for someone to visit us at home.
Then there is the adjustment from telling hospital personnel every detail of a physical condition to telling a neighbor
[caption id="attachment_2116" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Fun always seems to find Ben, even as a baby."]
[/caption]the generalities. Realizing that not everyone wants to know what a ventricle is. Or an astrocyte cell. Or any number of other things. How do you go back to discussing the weather and its implications when it feels as if something so much bigger is happening?
Sometimes, many times, it is hard to know how much to talk about all of this hospital/medical stuff. There is the perspective of ignoring it, pretending like it never happened. But then it has been such a big part of our experience thus far, it can be
[caption id="attachment_2117" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Newborn Ellie (then known as "Betsi".)"]
[/caption]bothersome to ignore it too. Sometimes the listener does not know how to respond when I speak of brain tumors or shunts or brain surgery or MRIs. Should they be sympathetic, nonchalant, ignore it? It's the people who respond by seeming downright uncomfortable that then I somehow talk about it even more. I will think, "OK, they are uncomfortable, don't talk
[caption id="attachment_2118" align="alignleft" width="225" caption="A favorite photo of her father."]
[/caption]about brain tumors any more." Which on a normal day is easy to do, but once I tell myself that, the only thing coming outta my mouth is more about brain tumors. Then I'll think, "Seriously, quit talking about brain tumors." And again, the next thing outta mouth is something medical. Once I told Ben's art teacher that his sister had a brain tumor. And she just responded with an, "OK" and then continued talking as if she heard about somebody having a brain tumor every day of the week. No biggie. It was refreshing just to be able to say it and not feel as if I had to comfort or reassure the listener that we are not a brain tumor, but are a family thriving. And it made me feel a little bit less real world culture shock.
Friday, August 14, 2009
The chip or the bag?
[caption id="attachment_2104" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Eating chips..."]
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So the other day we were at our local grocery store (Willy Street Co-op). Ellie has had low sodium as of late and chips have sounded like the most wonderful thing to eat to her (and that excites her endocrinologist). Well, as Ellie was munching on her bag of chips, ingesting that much needed salt, she dropped one chip on the grocery store floor (Ellie would say, "that rhymes!!) Unlike her brother, she did not snatch it up off the floor and pop it into her mouth before I could protest. Oh how sad she was for that lost chip. She looked at me, on the verge of tears, bemoaning the fact that the chip had been dropped. She couldn't believe something like this could happen to her. I said to her, "You can focus on the chip OR you can focus on the entire bag that you can still eat." I thought how easy it is to focus on the fallen chip, rather than the bag of chips that we have. We feel as if we have to fix the fallen chip, make it better, talk about it, feel all the feelings, call a friend, write a blog. When appreciating the rest of the bag feels so much better. What an amazing teacher she is!
[/caption]So the other day we were at our local grocery store (Willy Street Co-op). Ellie has had low sodium as of late and chips have sounded like the most wonderful thing to eat to her (and that excites her endocrinologist). Well, as Ellie was munching on her bag of chips, ingesting that much needed salt, she dropped one chip on the grocery store floor (Ellie would say, "that rhymes!!) Unlike her brother, she did not snatch it up off the floor and pop it into her mouth before I could protest. Oh how sad she was for that lost chip. She looked at me, on the verge of tears, bemoaning the fact that the chip had been dropped. She couldn't believe something like this could happen to her. I said to her, "You can focus on the chip OR you can focus on the entire bag that you can still eat." I thought how easy it is to focus on the fallen chip, rather than the bag of chips that we have. We feel as if we have to fix the fallen chip, make it better, talk about it, feel all the feelings, call a friend, write a blog. When appreciating the rest of the bag feels so much better. What an amazing teacher she is!
Sunday, August 9, 2009
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
[caption id="attachment_2086" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ben, our very own, "Gilda Radner"."]
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At the gym the other day, someone was talking about a fundraiser for Gilda's Club (a support center for people experiencing cancer.) One woman piped up that Gilda was a woman who died of ovarian cancer. That statement made me feel as if I were physically punched in the stomach. Gilda Radner was SO much MORE than how she exited this experience! She was such a fantastic entertainer, paving the way for female comedians today. I understood that this woman was trying to explain what Gilda's Club was, but not only does that definition not capture what Gilda's Club is, it only captures a minuscule part of Gilda's LIFE.
[caption id="attachment_2087" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="More silly Ben faces."]
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Often times when I am telling someone for the first time that my daughter has a brain tumor and that she was diagnosed with it at 20 months, they will get this shocked sad look on their face. I would probably do the same if someone were telling me this story. As I am telling the details of this story, sometimes, I think to myself, "Wow, this SOUNDS really bad." Talking about shunts, surgeries, hypothalamic obesity, thyroid malfunction, precocious
[caption id="attachment_2088" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ben showed up at just the perfect time and has added so much to our family."]
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puberty, loss of vision, sleep disturbance, lack of communication between the hypothalamus and pituitary gland. It all sounds so incredibly terrible and dramatic. I am quite certain if I spent a great deal of time contemplating it, I could get myself quite worked up about it (and sometimes I do!) But this medical description in no way captures our experience. How can you feel sorry for one of the happiest kids I know? Whose main goal almost every single day is to spread her joy or be as silly as she possibly can. SHE does not feel bad about having a brain tumor. Having a brain tumor isn't even really a part of her
[caption id="attachment_2089" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="What could be funnier than a wide open mouth? I bet one of the doctors would appreciate that pose..."]
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experience. She is used to going to the hospital, so it's just a place we go like the library, school, the grocery store.
Here's the story that I feel best about. Ellie decided before she chose this physical body to come have the experience she is having. This is what she is working on and allowing us to work on too. When I think of this, I am filled with awe of her courage. Thom & I were chosen along on this incredible journey. This journey called "brain tumor" is not really a part of her experience, she's got more important things to do.
[caption id="attachment_2090" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ben has turned the world upside down for Ellie! Still, she is NOT amused by his picture taking..."]
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Our lives have been transformed having Ellie in our midst, she is a constant reminder to stay present, appreciate this moment , to focus on what is important and not get waylaid by minor irritants.
[caption id="attachment_2092" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ben adores a photo op."]
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Last week, Ben, Ellie, and I were walking to Willy Street Co-op. As we were walking, Ben shouted, "Hey there's my favorite color, purple!" It was a purple van that Ellie had noticed on the previous day's walk. I said, "Wow! You and Ben have so much in common--you both adore purple, you both think I am the best mom in the whole world..." to which I began to chuckle at myself for my little joke. Ellie looked at me strangely, she had no idea why what I had
[caption id="attachment_2091" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ellie plays the guitar, while Ben continues to make funny faces."]
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just said would be funny. She thinks that me being the best mom in the whole world is the TRUTH, not a joke. What other 9-year-old would not roll his/her eyes at a parent for saying such a thing? Not our Ellie. It was one of those amazing, shining, fleeting moments where I was so filled with appreciation and gratitude that I did not want to change one thing about our lives. And if all of this is what she comes with, well, it's worth it.
[/caption]At the gym the other day, someone was talking about a fundraiser for Gilda's Club (a support center for people experiencing cancer.) One woman piped up that Gilda was a woman who died of ovarian cancer. That statement made me feel as if I were physically punched in the stomach. Gilda Radner was SO much MORE than how she exited this experience! She was such a fantastic entertainer, paving the way for female comedians today. I understood that this woman was trying to explain what Gilda's Club was, but not only does that definition not capture what Gilda's Club is, it only captures a minuscule part of Gilda's LIFE.
[caption id="attachment_2087" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="More silly Ben faces."]
[/caption]Often times when I am telling someone for the first time that my daughter has a brain tumor and that she was diagnosed with it at 20 months, they will get this shocked sad look on their face. I would probably do the same if someone were telling me this story. As I am telling the details of this story, sometimes, I think to myself, "Wow, this SOUNDS really bad." Talking about shunts, surgeries, hypothalamic obesity, thyroid malfunction, precocious
[caption id="attachment_2088" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ben showed up at just the perfect time and has added so much to our family."]
[/caption]puberty, loss of vision, sleep disturbance, lack of communication between the hypothalamus and pituitary gland. It all sounds so incredibly terrible and dramatic. I am quite certain if I spent a great deal of time contemplating it, I could get myself quite worked up about it (and sometimes I do!) But this medical description in no way captures our experience. How can you feel sorry for one of the happiest kids I know? Whose main goal almost every single day is to spread her joy or be as silly as she possibly can. SHE does not feel bad about having a brain tumor. Having a brain tumor isn't even really a part of her
[caption id="attachment_2089" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="What could be funnier than a wide open mouth? I bet one of the doctors would appreciate that pose..."]
[/caption]experience. She is used to going to the hospital, so it's just a place we go like the library, school, the grocery store.
Here's the story that I feel best about. Ellie decided before she chose this physical body to come have the experience she is having. This is what she is working on and allowing us to work on too. When I think of this, I am filled with awe of her courage. Thom & I were chosen along on this incredible journey. This journey called "brain tumor" is not really a part of her experience, she's got more important things to do.
[caption id="attachment_2090" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ben has turned the world upside down for Ellie! Still, she is NOT amused by his picture taking..."]
[/caption]Our lives have been transformed having Ellie in our midst, she is a constant reminder to stay present, appreciate this moment , to focus on what is important and not get waylaid by minor irritants.
[caption id="attachment_2092" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ben adores a photo op."]
[/caption]Last week, Ben, Ellie, and I were walking to Willy Street Co-op. As we were walking, Ben shouted, "Hey there's my favorite color, purple!" It was a purple van that Ellie had noticed on the previous day's walk. I said, "Wow! You and Ben have so much in common--you both adore purple, you both think I am the best mom in the whole world..." to which I began to chuckle at myself for my little joke. Ellie looked at me strangely, she had no idea why what I had
[caption id="attachment_2091" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ellie plays the guitar, while Ben continues to make funny faces."]
[/caption]just said would be funny. She thinks that me being the best mom in the whole world is the TRUTH, not a joke. What other 9-year-old would not roll his/her eyes at a parent for saying such a thing? Not our Ellie. It was one of those amazing, shining, fleeting moments where I was so filled with appreciation and gratitude that I did not want to change one thing about our lives. And if all of this is what she comes with, well, it's worth it.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
The incomparable Betsy C.
[caption id="attachment_428" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="A very young Ellie held by Betsy C."]
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This has been one of the hardest blogs for me to write and not because there isn't a lot to say, but because there is so much to say about Betsy C. How do I possibly capture the love and appreciation I feel for the (nonhospital/father) person who saw our daughter first? For the person who taught said daughter at 3, the word "ambiance"? For the person who rode the train all night long to attend my sister's baby shower in Memphis? Seriously, she has gone way beyond the call of friendship in the years I have known her.
Betsy C. is one of those people that Thom & I both continually pick as the answer to the question, "If you could be like anyone you know, who would it be?" Not only is she wise and an extremely loyal friend, she walks the walk. She actually DOES the things she talks about. For example, one year, she decided to spend the holidays in Paris, France. When she wants to do something , she finds a way to do it, not caving into the excuses of why something will not work, but instead discovering a way.
[caption id="attachment_2078" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Betsy C. joins us for sunny fun in Florida!"]
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I wasn't that familiar with Betsy C. when we went to the same college in Kirksville, Missouri. I knew of her, we were both RAs (resident assistants), I just didn't really know her. Then, after moving to Chicago, Thom & I both kept running into her. Weird. Then, Thom ended up working at the same place she was working, Recycled Paper Greetings. It was like she was supposed to be in our lives, and we would keep getting opportunities for that to happen until we finally took notice.
When I got pregnant with Ellie, it was Betsy C. who offered to throw me a Chicago baby shower. And she was the one who
[caption id="attachment_1283" align="alignleft" width="150" caption="There she is the centerpiece to the birthday party."]
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laughed when I complained that I had to urinate every five seconds when I was barely pregnant (little did I know how much this would intensify by the end of pregnancy.)
When Ellie was born, we called Betsy C. and she left work in the middle of the day, bringing doughnuts and Boston Market because I was no longer on a restricted diet. Then she came over the next day to visit and see our little bundle. Oh, the joy of having friends who have known Ellie since birth. She was the first non-hospital person to meet Ellie outside of Thom and I.
When Ellie was diagnosed with a brain tumor, Betsy C. was one of the first people I called.
[caption id="attachment_2084" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Betsy C., so wonderful, just makes you want to take her home."]
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She jumped in her car, and unbeknownst to us, raced to the hospital to be with us. She arrived right when Thom was checking us in. Betsy C. then put her life on hold to assist us, even sending her own mother to the rescue when I was having a crisis and she was at work. Not only that, but she offered to hold the breast pump for me when I kept falling asleep pumping. I mean, how many friends would offer that and truly mean it?
While in Chicago, Betsy C. was the "centerpiece" to all our parties. Before sending out any invitations, we would call Betsy C. to find out what her availability was. She just has this way of being that makes anything more fun if she is around. Her ease and love of fun radiates to everyone in her vicinity.
When Ellie was Betsi, maybe 6 months old, we moved to La Grange, IL. Betsy C. helped us out and she took Ellie into one of our new bedrooms, where Ellie proceeded to turn on and off the lights. Betsy C. ran to show me this amazing accomplishment. However, when I came into the room, Ellie refused to perform. To which Betsy C. responded, "I think there is a lot she can do that she is not telling you."
[caption id="attachment_138" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Even at the tiny table, she is still the centerpiece to our party."]
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In the spring, we took a day trip and met Betsy C. at one of our favorite restaurants in La Grange. When she arrived, both of my children ran joyfully to hug her and shower her with love and affection. I just sat back and watched the whole scene, reveling in the joy that my children were spreading. That's a lot of joy, isn't it?
She is such a superb listener that at times, I feel as if I cannot stop talking. Once when I called to discuss when we should do something medical, Betsy proclaimed that I had a great sense of perfect timing. She is just that kind of friend, allowing you to be where you are, yet encouraging you by reminding you of your own fabulousness.
When Betsy C. told me about her group coaching program (www.tiaracoaching.com) in Chicago, I knew that I wanted to be a part
of this magnificent event. It was an event. One of the many benefits of the program for me is having the opportunity to see Betsy do her magic and being able to share in the dreams she holds for herself. I wish I could carry a little Betsy C. around with me always in my pocket, listening, encouraging, having fun, she would be so handy to have around. But alas, she seems to have other things she wants to do, which ironically is one of the things I like most about her, she is so much out there saying YES! to life. When she has traveled with us (Florida and Sheboygan) she is the easiest traveler ever. I think what makes her so easy to roll into our family is that she does not instantly throw judgments into what is happening with Ben & Ellie. Instead she sort of just stops and pays attention and maybe offers a question, maybe just observes. Betsy C. is one of my favorite people, she is more than a friend, she is like a second sister I was fortunate enough to run into over and over and overagain until I finally caught on that perhaps all of our lives would be enriched with her presence.
[caption id="attachment_2080" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ben shows Betsy C some love."]
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[caption id="attachment_2081" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ben & Betsy C."]
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[/caption]This has been one of the hardest blogs for me to write and not because there isn't a lot to say, but because there is so much to say about Betsy C. How do I possibly capture the love and appreciation I feel for the (nonhospital/father) person who saw our daughter first? For the person who taught said daughter at 3, the word "ambiance"? For the person who rode the train all night long to attend my sister's baby shower in Memphis? Seriously, she has gone way beyond the call of friendship in the years I have known her.
Betsy C. is one of those people that Thom & I both continually pick as the answer to the question, "If you could be like anyone you know, who would it be?" Not only is she wise and an extremely loyal friend, she walks the walk. She actually DOES the things she talks about. For example, one year, she decided to spend the holidays in Paris, France. When she wants to do something , she finds a way to do it, not caving into the excuses of why something will not work, but instead discovering a way.
[caption id="attachment_2078" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Betsy C. joins us for sunny fun in Florida!"]
[/caption]I wasn't that familiar with Betsy C. when we went to the same college in Kirksville, Missouri. I knew of her, we were both RAs (resident assistants), I just didn't really know her. Then, after moving to Chicago, Thom & I both kept running into her. Weird. Then, Thom ended up working at the same place she was working, Recycled Paper Greetings. It was like she was supposed to be in our lives, and we would keep getting opportunities for that to happen until we finally took notice.
When I got pregnant with Ellie, it was Betsy C. who offered to throw me a Chicago baby shower. And she was the one who
[caption id="attachment_1283" align="alignleft" width="150" caption="There she is the centerpiece to the birthday party."]
[/caption]laughed when I complained that I had to urinate every five seconds when I was barely pregnant (little did I know how much this would intensify by the end of pregnancy.)
When Ellie was born, we called Betsy C. and she left work in the middle of the day, bringing doughnuts and Boston Market because I was no longer on a restricted diet. Then she came over the next day to visit and see our little bundle. Oh, the joy of having friends who have known Ellie since birth. She was the first non-hospital person to meet Ellie outside of Thom and I.
When Ellie was diagnosed with a brain tumor, Betsy C. was one of the first people I called.
[caption id="attachment_2084" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Betsy C., so wonderful, just makes you want to take her home."]
[/caption]She jumped in her car, and unbeknownst to us, raced to the hospital to be with us. She arrived right when Thom was checking us in. Betsy C. then put her life on hold to assist us, even sending her own mother to the rescue when I was having a crisis and she was at work. Not only that, but she offered to hold the breast pump for me when I kept falling asleep pumping. I mean, how many friends would offer that and truly mean it?
While in Chicago, Betsy C. was the "centerpiece" to all our parties. Before sending out any invitations, we would call Betsy C. to find out what her availability was. She just has this way of being that makes anything more fun if she is around. Her ease and love of fun radiates to everyone in her vicinity.
When Ellie was Betsi, maybe 6 months old, we moved to La Grange, IL. Betsy C. helped us out and she took Ellie into one of our new bedrooms, where Ellie proceeded to turn on and off the lights. Betsy C. ran to show me this amazing accomplishment. However, when I came into the room, Ellie refused to perform. To which Betsy C. responded, "I think there is a lot she can do that she is not telling you."
[caption id="attachment_138" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Even at the tiny table, she is still the centerpiece to our party."]
[/caption]In the spring, we took a day trip and met Betsy C. at one of our favorite restaurants in La Grange. When she arrived, both of my children ran joyfully to hug her and shower her with love and affection. I just sat back and watched the whole scene, reveling in the joy that my children were spreading. That's a lot of joy, isn't it?
She is such a superb listener that at times, I feel as if I cannot stop talking. Once when I called to discuss when we should do something medical, Betsy proclaimed that I had a great sense of perfect timing. She is just that kind of friend, allowing you to be where you are, yet encouraging you by reminding you of your own fabulousness.
When Betsy C. told me about her group coaching program (www.tiaracoaching.com) in Chicago, I knew that I wanted to be a part
of this magnificent event. It was an event. One of the many benefits of the program for me is having the opportunity to see Betsy do her magic and being able to share in the dreams she holds for herself. I wish I could carry a little Betsy C. around with me always in my pocket, listening, encouraging, having fun, she would be so handy to have around. But alas, she seems to have other things she wants to do, which ironically is one of the things I like most about her, she is so much out there saying YES! to life. When she has traveled with us (Florida and Sheboygan) she is the easiest traveler ever. I think what makes her so easy to roll into our family is that she does not instantly throw judgments into what is happening with Ben & Ellie. Instead she sort of just stops and pays attention and maybe offers a question, maybe just observes. Betsy C. is one of my favorite people, she is more than a friend, she is like a second sister I was fortunate enough to run into over and over and overagain until I finally caught on that perhaps all of our lives would be enriched with her presence.[caption id="attachment_2080" align="alignleft" width="300" caption="Ben shows Betsy C some love."]
[/caption][caption id="attachment_2081" align="alignright" width="300" caption="Ben & Betsy C."]
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