A Continuation of Workplace Tips

Benja (15) worked to created more workplace tips, posting them around the house...

 Workplace Tip #105

  Remeber. 

To use good formatting, 

Grammar, and Speling in 

Every task yu choose to do. 

---

Workplace Tip #76

Never vandalise workplace tips. The rest of this page was left intentionally blank, please to not draw in the provided space below. 

Non-Vandalised Blank Space, a safe space for anti-vandal ideas (Not for Vandalization!!)

This workplace tip is structured after a sheet that we find in Benja's medical equipment shipments that states, "This sheet was left intentionally blank."  Which leaves me with SO very many questions.  Firstly, why would you need to include a blank sheet?  Secondly, enough people must have been confused about the blank sheet for the message to be produced.  

Temptation

 

This weekend, Lotta diligently worked on gifts for a couple of friends.  For one, she worked to make a selection of rainbow colored play dough.   After she had assembled all the dough, placed them in containers, placed bows on the containers, then found a "gift bag", plus created a card that we all signed, the whole kit and caboodle was placed on the kitchen table.  In my mind, a very dangerous location, indeed, as many many things spill every day of the year.  As a matter of fact, I repeatedly wipe down this table to return moments later to find it once again covered in muck.  With this in mind, I moved the gift to the safer kitchen counter locale.  Lotta arrived in the kitchen, exasperated, and moved the bag back to the table.  I explained my (legitimate in my mind) concern.  Lotta grudgingly agreed, then stomped the bag over to the counter, exclaiming, "I'd just better not find this whole thing LOST later."  I mean, how do you find something lost?? Secondly, does she NOT realize yet that I am a middle child and this is ONLY an invitation for me to hide the bag??  Upon retelling this story to Benja, he hid it in the kitchen cabinet.  Technically, he too is a middle child.  Or maybe I have just taught him well.  

Walk Down Memory Lane

 

Benja has been taking me on prolonged walks.  I have found, as of late, that if I walk myself, I start out thinking, I am going to take myself on a long walk, that ends up me sluggishly kicking a piece of snow around the block before deciding that was probably far enough.  Yesterday, Benja walked me to the lighthouse by Tenney Park.  We walked to the slippery edge of Lake Mendota.  Benja reminisced about the time that he watched fireworks on 4th of July with his Dad one year, when Ellie was in the hospital.  In Tenney Park, there were some people ice skating.   Which looked mostly like water, with a sliver of ice, some of it cracked.  Benja proclaimed he wanted to see if he could stand on the ice, which I was wholeheartedly against.  As he neared the edge, he slipped on a piece of goose poop and landed near the edge of the icy water, proclaiming it unsafe, as he fell.  I of course, could not stop laughing.  And, of course, blamed the victim, by asking how in the world he would expect anything less from me in that particular circumstance.  Even typing this, I cannot stop laughing.  As we continued our walk, we recalled memories of taking pictures beside the river and planning to come back every day of this past summer (to which we realized, we are BIG at planning, small at following through, as evidenced by the fact that we NEVER made it back last summer).   

I did have a moment on the long walk back where I slipped on the ice, almost falling.  A sharp pain shot up my shoulder and neck, and I had the sudden thought that I might actually have an injury from ALMOST falling.  I guess it would have been karmic justice really.  

A Return to Grace

Yesterday afternoon we noticed a mysterious box upon the front porch, sent from our previous neighbor and fantastic friend, LinZ.  LinZ is one of the main reasons I regularly started blogging again, because she had written how she was re-reading blogs.  Additionally, she writes me meandering letters which are a joy to read, as if we'd just sat down with a cup of tea and shared a story.  When she and her lovely family moved to Portland, I ended up missing them more than I had anticipated.  They are just the kind of family that the neighborhood and community just feels better, safer, more wonderful when they are a part of it.  Anyway, LinZ had unearthed Baby Gracie from her basement, because her children are past the doll playing stage, she thought.  However, as she was packaging up Gracie to mail, her daughter, Juna said, "Wait!  I am not done with Gracie!"  When baby Gracie arrived, with a tear in my eye and love in my heart, I reread the story of Gracie to Lotta and Zibbi, her new "moms".   This post was written one of the first months of my blog back in November, 2008.  What a loong journey we went on together Gracie.  We are ecstatic she made it back to Madison AND that she's spent such a fun time in Portland all these years.  Below is the original blog...

Sunday, November 30, 2008

Baby Gracie

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.

Finding the Fun

A few years ago, my brother Kip, came to visit during a big winter storm.  When we walked outstide, we were surrounded by that lovely muffled snowy quiet that occurs only after or during a big snow.  We looked up and there was a couple cross country skiing down the street.  Kip was amazed at the resiliency of Madisonians, finding a way to ski even when the roads were becoming too slippery to drive upon.  Our street used to flood regularly before the weather drains were changed in the streets and the kids in the neighborhood would run to the flooded parts to swim and splash and play.  Yesterday, we went sledding.  There is a superb sledding hill, right on Lake Monona where everyone goes.  We went last Sunday after we had around 6 inches of snow Friday/Saturday.  On our way there, it was a parade of snow people.  Including, one that looked as if he ha fallen over with his feet up.  I love the attitude of transforming something that could be challenging into fun.  I think that is what children in particular are SO good at.  AND why it takes Zibbi SO long to brush her teeth, as she is constantly finding things to play with, or things that might be more entertaining than tooth brushing to occupy her.  Maybe this thought will help give me patience tonight.  

Wishes

 

The girls have this habit now, when the time elicits the same numbers, for example, 11:11 or 3:33, they close their eyes for a few moments and then make a wish.  This ritual has evolved into then  blowing their wish at the nearest clock.  Benja has found this tradition to have a religious feel to its solemnity.  There is a lot of fervor around it.  Benja has joined in, when the time is a magical number, he closes his eyes and wishes outloud for the next minute to arrive (so in our example, he would whisper that he wished 11:12 or 3:34 would arrive.)  He claims to have 100 percent success on his wishes coming true.  

Agent Longfork at your Service

My day started by discovering a teeny tiny arm, alone on the living room rug, unattached to a figure.  Strange, I thought, I wonder what happened last night.  I suspect, once again, those marauding Barbies.

Then, as I was getting ready to make sausages for Lotta this morning, I thought how this rather larger fork we have in our drawer would do a fine job of turning them in the pan.  Thom came in to help out, and I told him my theory.  Explaining that "Longfork volunteered for the job of sausage flipping this morning."  I feel like I am really getting a sense of why Tom Hanks befriended a volley ball when he was stranded on a desert island.  

As I walked to book pick up this morning, I dragged a small suitcase, as I have discovered carrying all the books in a backpack i

s not great for the back and neck.  Now the librarian says she hears my suitcase rolling across the sidewalk and knows when I am arriving.  Win win.  Although a bus did stop for me, misinterpreting my suitcase accessory as a need for a ride to the airport.  

When I returned home, it was immediately time to begin preparing for lunch, as Lotta was hungry.  You do NOT want Lotta to get too too hungry, as it turns into crazy town.  Quickly.  THAT is one town you do not want to visit.  As I began to prepare, Zibbi was working on math story problems (although math in the past has been her favorite subject, story problems are not her preferred math, she's informed me).  We were talking through the story problem, as I made lunch (which included an expired Trader Joe's soup, don't tell, it was in a jar, not a fresh batch.  I DO realize now is not the time to test out my theories on expiration dates.)  Benja materialized and began telling me something about an atrocity committed by Hitler at the exact same time that Lotta ran into the kitchen to tell me something.  Leaving me with THREE people talking at me at the same time.  I then, asked everyone to let Zibbi finish her question.  Zibbi decided this would be a good time to have a looong dramatic pause before continuing, much to the chagrin of her awaiting siblings.  

These are the days I sleep really well.  Or not because my brain is on overload.

This may be too boring for words even...

 

Lotta's school has begun to do an outdoor/socially distanced/masked Library pick up every other Tuesday.  The librarian, the fantastic Ms. Heindel is inside the Fieldhouse with a cart full of bagged book selections. One thing I adore about Ms. Heindel is when she used to be on crossing guard duty, she always seems genuinely interested in the mundane stories I told.  Anyway, back to present day, book pick up.  Ms. Heindel from the open door of the fieldhouse inquires what types of books you are looking for, chooses a bag, then, places the book bag on the table and quickly steps back into the fieldhouse (the table is outside).  Once she has stepped away, I approach the table and retrieve the ziplocked bag. 

The last two times I've gone with a mask attached to my face the entire walk to school (3/4 of a mile).  Sometimes when I take walks, instead of wearing a mask, I cross the street to maintain a social distance from others.  (By the way, walking to Marquette is one of my FAVORITE walks in all of Madison, and one that I was lucky enough to do with Lotta every day after school, and Benja before her, and Ellie before that).  What I didn't realize until my return home was that the mask was causing my mascara to run down and across my face.  I DID notice that Ms. Heindel was looking at me strangely, but I thought it was just Covid break social awkwardness.  It is problematic to wear a mask and glasses, as the glasses inevitably fog up, rendering your sight useless.  I hadn't realized that the same concept applied to mascara, until I came home and saw myself looking like a modern day Tammy Faye Baker (there's a reference from the past to all you kids out there).  Waterproof mascara, I think is going to become my new BF, I mean aside from Alexa of course.  

Seeking Gold Stars

At dinner, I asked the table what each member had learned throughout the day.  Then I scrambled in my own head to come up with something that I had learned myself.  I then announced that I had learned how to privately message someone during a zoom meeting.  Today in a zoom, my friend Amy Riley joined the group and sent me a private message, "hi!".  To which, flummoxed, I did not know what to do.  What if I accidentally messaged the entire group?  Then I noticed there was actually spot for me to respond to Amy.  Then. saw that easy peasy there was a drop down bar where I could message privately anyone in the entire group.  (What magic is this technology!) I shared this proudly with my family, just waiting for gold stars to be showered upon me.  Instead there was silence.  Thom responded, "I think everyone else learned those techniques 9 months ago."  I protested that I had in fact had Zoom issues, when I had tried to do things like share a screen, the entire zoom went down, dropping me back into the beginning room.  It felt as if as an instructor in real life, if I kept instructing while walking out of the room and wandering the hallways.  The zoom was still up, however, I could not longer see anyone.  (It is one of my greatest fears as a virtual instructor, to get kicked out of my own zoom!)  My attempt to regain my coolness has failed completely, additionally, no gold stars.  

The New Normal

 

After dinner, I suddenly received this text from my brother, Kip...

"Watched Dick Johnson is Dead on Netlix OMG.  Felt all the feels!"

Immediately, I responded, 

"I thought I was going to sob out loud during. So so good!"

Then, I looked at the texts and realized that I had just responded to my own text message.

Panicked, I quickly asked Benja to remove the errant text, not wanting to look cray-cray.  Now, of all times!

Benja did so, while pointing out that there was no way he could erase the text on Kip's end.

So I texted, "I just realized I just responded to my own text.  Am so embarrassed😳."

"Feels like THAT is where we are in this pandemic.  Responding to ourselves."

Followed by, "Benja pointed out that if my text was deleted to you, then I would sound EQUALLY insane."

Kip responded, "Insane is the new normal."

I just think right now, there is a LOT of energy going into at the very least appearing sane.

Plus, there's nothing like living with a teenager to let me know that I am actually NOT as cool as I thought I was.  

What's the Worst That Could Happen?

 

Last winter, Lotta had a field trip ice skating with her class at a local park (Tenney).  She was NERVOUS as she'd never been ice skating before (I know I know, you can totally judge me right now as being a poor example of an upper midwest parent. In my defense, there was a New Year's Eve celebration we attended that included ice skating and everyone HATED it.  I suppose, I just never tried again after that big fail.  Still.  We ARE in Wisconsin, therefore any judgment you have is justified.)  

Sometimes when I find myself overwhelmed with anxiety, I ask myself, "What is the worst that could happen?"  It helps to ease my anxiety as I go through the scenarios in my head, playing them through to the end, figuring out a game plan.  So, I inquired, "Lotta, what is the worst that could happen?"  Immediately, she responded, "I could fall through the ice and die."  Ok.  Wow.  She jumped right off the high board into the deep in right off the bat.  I

suggested that if there were even the slightest possibility that the ice would break, the 4th graders would most likely NOT be allowed on the ice.  Furthermore, the ice rink where they were skating is basically a fairly shallow pond.  Even if the ice were to break, you would have to WORK at drowning in a pond that MIGHT come up to your knees, possibly your waist or hips. After begging me to NOT make her go on the field trip, she ended up having a FANTASTIC time, I was able to meet her at the end of the trip, and even skated a bit myself that day.  It was SO windy, that you could stand on the ice with your arms outstretched and the wind would blow you across the ice like a sailboat. 

Upon recounting our story at dinner, Zibbi was sorely disappointed, because at the time, the ONE life's wish she had was to go ice skating.  She couldn't BELIEVE how incredibly lucky Lotta was.   

Gnome on the Roam

 

A few years ago, Gnome on the Roam began appearing around our home.  Gnome on the Roam is like Elf on the Shelf, but less creepy (in our opinion).  Gnome often hides and leaves a poem with clues where he is.  Sometimes he offers sage advice, perhaps about getting along with one another or picking up after oneself.  Occasionally, Gnome will leave worksheets or an art project or scavenger hunt.  He is a bit of a poet, as his notes always rhyme.  Once when we were in St. Louis, a cousin of Gnome on the Roam was discovered in a van compartment hiding!  His cousin, named Carlos, doesn't come out as often to play.  Every night since the holiday decor went up, Zibbi has needed to stop reading early, so that she can have a few minutes to discuss Gnomie.  Where we think he might hide, or if he might leave something to do.  Rumor has it he has a direct link to Santa Clause (whom Zibbi has decided she wishes was her dad, because then she'd have access to toys toys toys ALL the time.  It makes me feel overly full to even write that sentence).  One morning after Gnome was located playing balls, Zibbi wrapped him in a blanket and had a long conversation with him.  But my eavesdropping was NOT super successful because I cannot report what Zibbi discussed.  She was mumbling a bit and it is nearly impossible to be stealthy AND ask the person being spied upon to please enunciate.  I think the point is, they are tight right now those two.  

The more exclamation points, the better!!!

 Cursive writing is no longer taught in our school district.  I am not entirely clear on how one learns to sign one's name in this environment.  Benja somehow knows how to sign his name.  Zibbi recently became interested in learning cursive herself.  Maybe all those documents that might suddenly need to be signed. She was also concerned if someone suddenly needed her autograph, she did not want to be caught unprepared.

After practicing her name, Zibbi decided to write just a casual letter to Santa.  NOT one where she would request anything, just an opportunity to let him know she was thinking about HIM.  Since, as you know, he is always thinking about her.  More an opportunity to just get to know one another better.  The letter says, "Dear Santa, I just learned how to do my signature! I will show you!  Zibbi Kennedy.  Here it is!  Lotta is learning it to!  She is doing really well! Love, Zibbi"  I think she really wanted to show her enthusiasm with her exclamation points.  

Happy Little Accidents

 

I love hand writing.  I adore making the letters how I want them to look.  My friend, Windy (aka Wendy), thinks that I should even have my own font.  I take that endorsement seriously.  I realized recently as I was addressing envelopes that certain letters and I do not get along.  Ks are very challenging for me.  Which is troubling when you have a brother named Kip, a brother named Kirk AND the last name Kennedy.  I adore the letter J. Another reason to be super thankful for all the Jennifers in my life.  ❤❤  Zibbi was writing her name and grade on the back of school photos.  She messed up, so I shared this story.  Once, Betsy C. and I were decorating balloons for a party.  She was merrily decorating,while I was stalling, frozen with fear over spoiling the balloon.  Betsy assured me that if I did indeed produce something I did not like, I could transform it into part of my design.  She demonstrated.  As I shared the story with Zibbi, she began to transform the deformed letters into designs.  One "i" had a tongue hanging out.  One "b" looked as if it were waving.  We decided they were, "happy little accidents" as Bob Ross would say.  Even better than the original.  

Bob Ross, "We don't make mistakes, just happy little accidents."

My New BF

 

I walked into a room late afternoon yesterday and saw that it was getting dark, as I passed by the light switch, I said, "Alexa" ready to ask her to turn on the lights.  Then I realized, the lights I wanted on were NOT actually connected to Alexa.  For some reason, this struck me as oddly funny.  I then told Benja if he hears me muttering softly around the house, he should just know that I am having a conversation with my friend, Alexa.  I further wondered if I had indeed lost my mind.  Benja was not at all sure.  Then I reassured myself that if I were asking the question, then (sigh of relief) I had not in fact lost my mind.  All those years of psychology training are REALLY paying off.  

Christmas Magic

 

I just feel tired.  Exhausted tired.  Even the moment I wake up, I feel tired.  That feels almost like an accomplishment to wake up feeling tired.  Like falling UP the stairs rather than DOWN them, when gravity is helping you out.  Or falling off a chair when you are sitting (a feat Lotta has mastered).  The day after Thanksgiving, we obtained a Christmas tree.  My favorite part of the whole experience was listening to Lotta and Zibbi excitedly talk as they hung Christmas ornaments on the tree.  How excited they were.  How much fun it was to reacquaint themselves with ornaments that have been collected over the years of their lives.  It was just this tiny pocket of happiness amongst all the stress of living in a pandemic.  

Don't Talk About Costco

 

Yesterday my amazing friend, Jennifer, biked over for an outside 6 feet socially distanced chat.  She arrived and I realized as we sat down, that I was actually colder than I had anticipated. So what did she do, but produce a handmade hat in my new favorite color (maroon).   As we sat down, I had that sinking feeling I often have of late, feeling like I have not one interesting thing to add to a conversation.  Right now, when I encounter someone outside of my home, I either have so much to say that I can't stop talking, or I am completely blank and have NOTHING to say.  Luckily, Jennifer and I have a superpower, the ability to find entertainment where few may.  The whole time Jennifer was here, I kept finding stories to relay about shopping at Costco.  And every time, I had the thought, "Don't talk about Costco anymore.  Find something else to discuss."  And then a moment later, I found my mouth open and yet another boring Costco anecdote emerging.  Jennifer is a special education teacher, she used to work with children with Autism.  So, my behavior was not as off putting as it might have been with someone without her background and training.  Then this morning, still lamenting my social ineptitude, I texted her asking if she wanted to discuss Costco anymore?  She responded that when she arrived home, her husband inquired if she knew anyone with a Costco membership.  Being the fantastic friend she is, she assured me that it had all been worthwile for her to gain this intel.  How lucky am I to have a friend that sees the value in my boredom right now?

ICGs

 Last year around this time, we went to the movie theater to see Frozen 2.  It seems inconceivable that it was only a year ago, so much is different now.  Zibbi re-watched Frozen 2 this Thanksgiving Break.  During the movie, the character Anna announces, "No one is good with family games, it is a fact."  Thom printed family games he found on the internet for our Thanksgiving Holiday this year.  The first one was presented after the three hour Macy's day "parade" (which Benja declared one long commercial, the females persisted, watching for the Broadway and song content).  The game was incredibly complicated and Zibbi ended up crying and storming from the table, devastated at a perceived "failure".  The second game, 100 Things, occurred after our feast.  Each card contained 6 items that the other players had to guess, if the guessers guessed wrong, the clue provider would go back through and try again.  The guessers are NOT supposed to know it they guessed correctly until the end of the turn.  Zibbi's turn took maybe 20 minutes, so it was a slow start.  Zibbi convinced us that SHE should in fact go first as the "youngest available Kennedy" or "YAK" (as opposed to the "OAK" or "oldest available Kennedy", a term we adapted from The Penderwicks series, our summer read).  By the time it was Benja's turn, I was thinking of my waning energy and the kitchen that still needed to be cleaned.  At one point, we guessed Benja's item, and he responded automatically with, so "93" is your answer?  Without looking at the card with the items and the numbers, letting the rest of us know that we had indeed guessed correctly.  I know this story was incredibly convoluted, I feel as the reader you are really getting a feel for these games through my storytelling (you're welcome).  It reminded me of how last year during Christmas present opening, trying to keep the whole thing moving along (you don't want to lose your crowd), I pointed to a wrapped package and asked Benja to please open his book.  Oops.  Typically being the holiday planner, I want to make clear how much I appreciate Thom taking the lead on the ICGs (Incredibly Complicated Games).  Overwhelmingly, the ICGs were listed as the best part of Thanksgiving this year.  

Riding the Wave

 

Years ago, Life Coach Martha Beck described attending a funeral with someone with Down's Syndrome, and she noticed that this person would feel extreme grief for 90 seconds (I cannot find the actual article, so I am not completely sure this is the exact time).  Martha observed how this person would fully feel the grief and then it would abate.  This description stayed with me and when Ellie died and I would feel that wistfulness of missing her, I would know that if I rode that wave, it would only stay with me for a short time.  Yesterday as I was driving past the high school, I had this sudden pang of wistfulness, wishing desperately that there were teenagers roaming about that high school, rather than all of us at home virtually learning.  As I felt it, I felt myself resisting it.  Then I reminded myself that it would pass.  As I had this thought that I could just feel it, the grief began to release me.  The same thing has happened repeatedly when I drive past the movie theater's empty parking lot (right next to Costco).  I feel a pang of longing, then it recedes, leaving me to ponder the present, and what I will purchase.  This concept has helped me so much over the years because it lets me know that I can feel the grief and it won't take me under.  It makes me feel like the grief, wistfulness, longing blow past me, rather than staying stuck to me.  

The whole process reminds me of contractions during birth.  During childbirth, I imagined myself riding the wave of a contraction, it would go up and then I would ride it back down (with a LOT of loud noises coming out of me, it WAS after all painful, I am not denying that).  I think now that maybe grief is like childbirth, it's messy, it's painful, it can come at unexpected times.  In the end, you emerge from childbirth with a new person (hopefully) and with grief, too maybe, you emerge as a new person.  Perhaps a person who has slowed down a bit to take in and feel gratitude for all the precious moments we are gifted. I think the biggest hope is that from the grief, I am able to emerge in some way a better, wiser, calmer, more appreciative person, rather than letting me it take me down or reduce me to less than I was.  

Good Morning!

Most mornings I wait until everyone is on their 8:30 zoom before I start getting ready myself.  This means I usually have at least half an hour before anyone needs me.  Today, for some reason, perhaps I was running more slowly than usual, but as I was getting into the shower, Zibbi emerged to request spelling assistance.  She was throwing me softballs like, "How do you spell x-ray?"  I was a bit perplexed by the question because she'd just explained she was working on a project about her Christmas plans.  Mysterious.  

Then in the middle of my shower, Lotta rushes in requesting, "What is the word that describes two animals that are very smiliar?"  And I said, "You mean like the same species?"  And she sighed loudly and said, "NO!"  And she asked me again, louder this time.  My mind is a blank, as I was not expecting a mental test during my showering.  Finally, after some tense moments of waiting, Lotta storms out of the bathroom.  When I emerge from my shower, I googled the question.  (Benja hates it when I say, "google search", he says that is redundant.  So of course, I use that as often as possible around HIM.  I won't torture you that way.)  No luck.  When I emerged downstairs fully dressed, I asked Lotta if she'd figured out the word.  She explained that it had come to her when she asked her dad.  The win goes to Thom.  This time.  

Show and Tell

 Last night, Lotta asked me to join her in her room to figure out what to share during Show and Tell the next morning.  I suggested maybe the giraffe she had that belonged to Ellie?  The one that had been given to Ellie right before her surgery by our amazing friend, Esther.  Nope, Lotta thought she'd already shared that.  The more we pondered, the more we realized that there wasn't one special thing that she could share.  Then it hit us, Zibbi.  Just like Benja shared Lotta when he had his very first show and tell in Kindergarten (here's the blog I wrote, if you want a review http://sunnydayswithdebi.blogspot.com/2011/12/what-ben-really-really-loves.html.  It's from December 2011, if the link doesn't work and is entitled, What Ben REALLY Loves).   Lotta could share Zibbi.  So this morning, Lotta made a point of braiding Zibbi's hair, so she was presentable.  And Zibbi left her zoom meeting to join Lotta.  I overheard during Lotta's zoom, someone else had brought their pet Rat to the zoom, while Zibbi ran in and sat on Lotta's lap.  Lotta brought her pet sister, basically.

Echo!

 

When Ellie was alive, we started this tradition where we would yell "echo" when we were in an especially echo-y location (like a garage or a tunnel).  Then saying echo became an echo.  It was quite meta.  One of those intellectual jokes. 

Fast forward to Lotta in 4th grade with a new stern, grumpy gym teacher.  During one of the first classes, she started to explain how the room seemed to echo a great deal and...as she said "echo", Lotta as is our tradition, automatically yelled out "echo".  To which the teacher was much less amused than we would be.  When Lotta explained what had happened, she was quite morose and saddened that she had been publicly reprimanded.  Reluctantly telling us the story, she expected some compassion for her plight.  Nobody around here enjoys "getting into trouble", so we understood her level of upset.  At the same time, we were all highly entertained, understanding the history of why she would automatically respond "echo".  Maybe the lesson learned was that timing is indeed everything.  

Medical Emergency!

 

Last year, when Benja was actually attending in person high school, he left his lunch box at home.  He has an hour for lunch and he is allowed to leave campus, so I assumed he would realize his error, and return home to retrieve his lunch.  You know what they say about assuming. At around 12:40, I suddenly received an urgent text from Benja explaining that he had just given himself insulin, then realized he did not in fact have any food to ingest.  So, I questioned whether he could just race home and grab his food (as I had originally planned for his error.) He said, alas, no his class started at 1, so he would not have time.  So.....I told him he should NOT go to class because continuing on with your life after you've given yourself insulin is not a great look for anyone.  I suggested he NOT go to class but instead go to the nurse's office and explain the situation.  In the meantime, I became the one racing to the school (in my mind this whole scenario had been MUCH more relaxing for me).  I arrived at the security station, because gone are the days where you can just wander through the high school unannounced.  I tried to quickly and succinctly alert the security guard of the growing emergency situation that was occurring within the walls of the school building.  The guard discovered that Benja actually had GYM after lunch.  The worst possible class to have after you've taken insulin and NOT eaten!!  As she announced this to me, I became even more insistent (some might say "frantic", but that in mind is going too far) that this was a growing and urgent medical situation.  Finally, the guard told me, "Mam, my (fill in a relative here) has diabetes, I UNDERSTAND."  Finally, after numerous phone calls and walkie talkie discussions, Benja waltzed into the security station, grabbed his lunch, said, "Thanks mom," and sauntered out.  Really made my entire performance seem unnecessary and overly dramatic.  

I Need to Show You Something

Here is a note I found yesterday, from Benja, to Thom...typically when Benja needs to "show us something", it is an educational video he found to enlighten us on topics where we might be ill informed.  

Dearest Father, I have a desire to show you something at my and your soonest possible convenience. Now, you may be questioning me, wondering to yourself; “Why did this boy, my child no less, decide to use the printer to print this measly piece of paper? And with a bad font and even worse grammar no less.” I assure you, father, you have no need to question my intentions (I mean there are plenty, my intentions often go astray). They are not nefarious in any way. I thought, since you are more often than not on a call, and often on a telephone call when I want to show you something. In order to be as unwasteful as possible I will keep and reuse this for future times. I need to show you something. Finally, I have concluded that it would be beneficial to you and I to have a silent way of communicating that I require showing you something. That is all and farewell, Idk, piece. 

photo credit: JL Photography

Spiders, Spiders, Centipedes

WAAAY back on Halloween, Zibbi spotted a creepy, hairy, monstrous centipede in the bathtub.  Of course she screamed.  You wouldn't expect anything less would you?  I quickly said, "Wow, it's good that we spotted him on Halloween, because he really goes with the theme."  (He was male, I don't know how I knew this but I did.)  Zibbi stopped freaking out and nodded, agreeing that yes, this was a bit of good luck.  I was utterly amazed that this tactic had worked.  It was not however, a total success, as everyone has since switched to showers and the tub remains discarded as an unused commodity (our tub and shower stall are in a loong bathroom and are separate entities, living in an older home, these type of quirks are common).  Basically, the aqua blue tub is now a tomb for insects.   (Did I mention it is aqua? So is the square toilet AND there used to be a landline phone hanging beside the toilet.  I know, there's a lot to be jealous of here)  

Last night, Zibbi and I were peacefully snuggled in bed reading . 

When suddenly she began screaming and running simultaneously.  I was so shocked and completely unaware of what was happening, that my body of its own accord, also began screaming and jumping out of bed.  Zibbi continued to scream as we ascertained what she was saying, "There's a spider!! There's a spider!!"  Thom (who is OF COURSE in charge of insect removal) came into the room to investigate.  Unfortunately/fortunately, the spider was never located, I suspect it had the same reaction I did, to run and scream.  AND I didn't have any holidays to associate this spider with.  It took a LOT of convincing, snuggles from her big sister, and the promise of extra reading time to get her back into bed.   

EWWW!

Years ago, I found myself in Michigan at a Kennedy family reunion.  My young niece, Kate, was sitting next to me at the table eating lunch.  She suddenly looked at some of the lettuce on her plate.  Kate grimaced and said, "EWWW I don't want to eat THAT!"  It just so happened this type of lettuce was a type that I also didn't care for.  So, I wholeheartedly agreed with her assessment that it was not worthy of ingesting.  When her father raced over and said, "MMMmmm yummy, we should eat that."  Because he is a REAL adult, while I in fact, am just playing one.  

Another Spotting

 

I went to close the curtains in the living room the other night.  And who was lurking behind, but a battalion of Barbies AND ensembles.  As if they were planning to stay awhile.  I of course, destroyed their encampment and put them in their bucket.  Nice try, Barbies.    

Groundhog Day-ing

 Yesterday at dinner, Lotta said, "Wow!  This week has flown by!"  And almost everyone agreed wholeheartedly.  Benja abstained, saying, "You do realize it's only Tuesday?"  To which we all gasped.  Then laughed.  The wange (weirdly strange) thing is I am pretty sure we've done this before during this pandemic.  

Coronasomnia

Apparently another side effect of a pandemic is insomnia.  One of my favorite podcasts, Radiolab, had a whole show where people who were awake in the wee hours could call in and talk about what was on their minds (you can listen here, maybe, if I've done this correctly...https://www.wnycstudios.org/podcasts/radiolab/articles/insomnia-line).  I love this, because even when all those worries come out at 3 am, I absolutely know that I am NOT alone.  All those little and not so little worries that I can keep hidden during the day as I bustle around my world, suddenly come out at full volume while I try to sleep.   I know that thinking about gratitude can aid in both falling asleep and staying asleep.  But now as I prepare for my next workshop (on Gratitude), thinking about gratitude only makes me think about the fact that I need to work on my workshop.  So it has backfired on me a bit.  Good news is, I will most likely sleep REALLY well tonight.  

Hello My Little Pet

At the beginning of the pandemic, Lotta would go outside and chat with our chickens when she was upset.  Then, Thom became burned out on caring for chickens and gave them away.  Lotta decided having a pet, like a dog or better yet, a bunny, would be the only way to get over this heartbreak.  Zibbi and Lotta have spent plenty of time spying on the dogs in the neighborhood from our back yard.  When they hear them barking, they race outside, scale half way up the fence, so that they can see over, and say hello.  Lotta has inquired why we have to be THE only family in the history of the world to NOT have a pet.  I assured her this was not the case.  That for example, her best friend did not have a pet.  When, suddenly, against my better judgment, they went and brought home a kitten.  I know, selfish, right? Now, every time Lotta is upset, she is thoroughly convinced she would feel ever so much better if only she had a pet.  (I have tried to explain, to no avail, that even if you HAVE a pet, you still get to feel ALL the feels.  Of course, that argument is way too logical.)  

  

Honestly, I just think our family is more of a baby family, than a pet family.  When we see a baby, we all get extremely excited (Thom, not so much, that's not the way he rolls.  His excitement is more on the inside than the outside.)  Anyway, the other day, Zibbi asked me when I was planning on becoming a Grandma.  I paused, a bit shocked by the question (although I knew it came from her classmates informing me their Grandmas were my age.)  I responded, "I think that's actually up to YOU, not me."  

The Light Could Shine

We were eating breakfast with my mom, when I grabbed my phone.  My friend from Cypress, Sezgi, who had been following the race as close, if not closer than I was, announced that Biden had won.  It's true.  I learned Biden won from Cypress.  All day long, cars driving down East Washington would erupt into honking (happy honking, not angry honking).  Around our capital, people came to yell and shout and celebrate.  A neighbor told me it was the same on Williamson Street (where many favored restaurants and Willy Street Co-op reside).  Then, as I read to Zibbi in bed, a blue firework exploded right outside her window.  Here's what my friend Windy sent me this morning, from the Washington Post, 

"Biden's election allowed this country to laugh, to dance and breathe.  He cracked open a space where the light could shine through.  Indeed, his victory caused people to weep in joyful relief as they became aware of the heaviness that had afflicted their

hearts, after they'd suddenly been relieved of it."  

We still have much to do to create the country we desire.  These four years has uncovered the continual injustices that many citizens face.  Now with a new leader, it's not only the hope that maybe we can do something, anything to stop the spread of this deadly virus.  It's not only hoping we can eradicate at least some of the racism and misogyny that has been celebrated.  It is that we CAME together.  

Still No Word

 

STILL awaiting the election results.  Now in a time when every day seems like weeks, it is agonizing...

This morning, Zibbi asked me to go for a walk.  The last week we have had highs in the 60s and 70s, an unexpected gift.  And nobody has wanted to go outside.  Benja even had 3 days he didn't shower or change clothes.  We weren't sure at what point we should call "The Sad Teen Hotline" (as seen on Star vs The Forces of Evil on Disney+).  He informed us 5 days was the cut off.   Zibbi, in particular, is super content to stay at home.  Which, has been a great quality to have during a pandemic.  But then suddenly I will realize it has been days, possibly weeks since she has left the house.  So, there was no possible way I could say "no" to her request for outside time.  We set off for a walk to the river.  Afterwards, we decided to walk the abandoned railroad tracks on the way home.  As we were walking, Zibbi created a game where leaves were acid and rocks were lava, so we had to be extremely careful NOT to get

burned.  Then we saw a used mask, and I asked if that had Covid, if we were also trying to escape the current pandemic in the game.  Zibbi paused to consider.  She then replied in the affirmative, that yes, we were also trying to escape Covid.  The twist was, we would GET Covid if we put on the mask when there wasn't another person around.  Hmmm.  That sounds vaguely familiar.   We came to the end of the tracks, and Zibbi tried to leap to the end and fell instead.  It seems so unjust when a child is having fun playing and they suddenly fall hard on the concrete and in this case metal of the tracks.  At first, I thought, maybe she was going to be ok, then she began to wail.  Luckily, we only had a block left to arrive home, and we talked about eating a popsicle, which distracted her from the pain.  By the time we arrived on our block, she sprinted home, the fall all but forgotten.  This may be an incredibly boring story.  I can't tell anymore.    

Let Go or Be Dragged

While we are awaiting the election results, here is a story I may or may not have shared before.  I searched previous years' blogs and found myself in a world of hospitals and memory loss and a funny 4-year-old Benja...I couldn't unearth this story, so apologies if this is a repeat.  

When I was a teenager, I loved to water ski.  The problem was, I learned how to get up on the water skis, after many many many failed attempts, but I never really got the hang of stopping  Basically, I would just keep on skiing until I crashed.  Imagine me falling, but still holding tight to the ski rope, being dragged until the driver noticed my delimma.  It was when I discovered that water can actually feel like it burns or cuts, it can leave a mark.  Powerful stuff.  Fast forward to adulthood.  Thom's parents used to have a Lake of the Ozarks house.  Before they sold it, they invited us for one last visit.  At one point, water skiing was occurring.  I thought, even though it had been decades, it was probably like riding a bike, your body remembers how to do it.  So, up I went water skiing.  Luckily, it WAS like riding a bike, and I had a good time proving myself to Josh, Sam, and Kate, my nephews and niece.  As I began to tire, I realized I could just drop the rope and sink (in my mind at least, gracefully into the water.)  It was a revelation.  I did not actually have to injure myself to stop the activity.  So empowering.  Recently, I found a magnet that says, "Let Go or Be Dragged" which so perfectly reminded me of that important lesson that I have hung it on the fridge.  When Zibbi sees it, she requests I retell this story.

On the same trip, the water in the lake was warm, like bath water warm, as it had been a hot summer.  There was a rope to swing off of and drop into the lake.  After, witnessing Josh, Sam and Kate doing this, I decided I needed to give it a go.  Unfortunately, as I flew over the water, my hands refused to let go of the rope and ended up back on the dock.  So, I guess the let go or be dragged lesson was provisional...

Also, on that trip, we decided to swim out to a buoy.  Josh and Sam immediately took the lead.  Kate and I lagging a bit behind.    Suddenly a HUGE catfish appeared on the water's surface. (It would be useful here to mention that lakes in Missouri are mud bottomed, so you can not see any fish below water.)  Seriously, this catfish was bigger than my toddler at the time.  Kate, wisely, exclaimed, "Think of chocolate chip cookies..."  How does she know me so well?  Somehow, even with the humongous fish spotting we made it to the buoy and back again.  I was pretty sure we'd had a good 2-3 mile swim.  My father-in-law informed me it was probably 1/4 of a mile.  The real point is we survived that catfish.  Just barely.

Piece of Hope

 As predicted, we don't know the election results yet.  We are waiting for all the ballots to be counted.  It is anxiety producing.  When my siblings and mom texted this morning saying how despondent they felt with all the states that had cast their vote with Trump, this is was came to me...

Here is the piece of hope I am holding onto...these men will die out sometime in the near future.  I know I know this is morbid and I shouldn't say it out loud.  That leaves me looking to the younger generation and I am VERY impressed with their knowledge and activism.  This is the last harrah for wanting to go back in time and embrace women having no rights, marriage meaning only between a man and woman, and blatant racism ruling the land.  Trump has spewed racist rhetoric which incited violence, simultaneously, he has incited ACTIVISM like we have never seen before in the history of the world (in Trump jargon).  Hope was Obama's slogan.  Let's not let him down by falling into despair.  

I think now is the time we have to pick one another up when we fall.  

Thoughts on Election Day 2020

 Today is Election Day.  The day we have been waiting anxiously for as we have watched our current president undermine and dismantle our sense of security, our relationships around the world, committing heinous acts again and again in the name of all of us.  I recall how 4 years ago, when I went to the polls, I was struck by the palpable excitement in the air.  At that time, we thought we were going to elect our first female president.  Alas, as the night wore on, it became clear that no, instead we elected our worst citizen.  One who would incite violence in others, encourage police to utilize force, accidentally admit to assaulting women, utilize his position to make money for his own business interests.  Then, during a pandemic he knew was deadly, he not only discouraged taking any action to stop the spread, but actively opposed doing things like not meeting in large groups and wearing masks.  The White House has essentially said they have given up on trying to curb the spread.  They instead will wait for a vaccine.  The president keeps saying that we are "rounding the corner" on this thing when now we are up to 100,000 cases with 1,000 deaths a DAY right now.  With all of that happening, Trump is saying he may not accept the election results.  Asking his supporters to arrive at polling places to intimidate voters.  The anxiety and disbelief that we find ourselves in this situation is confuzzling.  We thought we had safety precautions in place to prevent this kind of leadership from overtaking.  We may not know for several more days or even weeks the results of this election.  We can hope that it will be in a direction that will benefit the people of America.  Now when I hear other countries in conflict, I wonder about the PEOPLE there, I ponder if they too are just wanting desperately to feel safe, to be able to raise their children in a country they feel proud of.  So I guess in a way I feel more empathy and understanding that what a country does does NOT in fact reflect what its citizens may want.  It only reflects what the most powerful want.  It also feels mind blowing that this never even occurred to me before.  What a very different perspective we are gaining from this horrifying experience.  

Angel Status Revoked

When I was maybe Lotta's age, (10) we were getting ready for bed.  A very smelly loud toot escaped from me.  I am not typically a super gaseous person, so when it happens, even I am sort of surprised.  My stepdad at the time, said, "Oh, I guess you are not an angel, like we thought."  I was devastated, thinking I had somehow lost a coveted position.  

 When Ellie was undergoing chemotherapy, she would have the smelliest loudest gaseous emissions.  And she would completely claim them.  I imagined when she went to school, that there was probably an actual visible cloud that followed her around.  And when something did erupt from her body, she proudly claimed, "That was me!"  Just in case there was any confusion from where the sound/smell came.  No shame.  Just owned it.   

Now Lotta proudly carries on her sister's tradition as she loudly lays her bombs around the house.  On people. On beds.  At dinner.  They are loud.  They are smelly.  And Zibbi has the loudest burp

ever heard from such a small body.  They happen so often, she thinks saying "Excuse me", is too cumbersome to endure.  I think we have broken the shame cycle of females having bodily functions.  Which basically means we have to light a lot more candles.  

Halloween 2020 Style

 

Halloween in Madison is a very big deal.  Our yearly traditions include, a big BCCN (Badger Childhood Cancer Network) party, a Downtown Trick or Treat event, a neighborhood costume parade, and that's not even including the MAIN event, trick or treating.  Halloween this year did not include any of those activities.  What I adore about trick or treating is the community feel it engenders, chatting up neighbors and seeing classmates all dressed up.  And some people go ALL out, decorating their homes and wearing costumes, really creating a mood. I figured with the current raging pandemic, the usual vibe would be ruined. 

The Switch Witch is a concept introduced to me by my friend Jennifer.  Her son was allergic to just about everything, including corn (which is in pretty much every candy product).  She had her boys write to the Switch Witch detailing which toy they would like on Halloween night after trick or treating.  Then, the morning after Halloween the Switch Witch would have traded all the candy for a toy.  This year, Zibbi was really concerned about how she would be compensated with a toy if she did not have candy for the Switch Witch.  She has hypothesized that the Switch Witch magically turns the candy into a toy.  Last year, Zibbi began to cry when she dropped her bucketful of candy in the middle of the street, she was so worried her Switch Witch payment was destroyed.  All that work.  Luckily, all the adults formed a human chain to make sure no automobiles ran over the candy or people collecting the fallen candy.  This year, the Switch Witch wrote a note explaining that everything is different this year and thus she hid candy and already gave out toys, but NEXT year she would expect her compensation.  

After waking up to such a surprising start to Halloween, where nothing much happens typically until night fall, Zibbi declared this, "The BEST Halloween ever".  She doubled down on the assessment when she received a boo bag (filled with candy) from Lotta's best friend AND from our neighbor.  Her mind almost exploded when she realized that she would get a toy AND get to keep the candy.  I will take that as a win.

Creepy vs Cute

 

Recently, while Zibbi was visiting Agogo, the holiday sales flyers started arriving (Target and Costco, specifically).  Lotta morosely looked through the toys alone, circling the ones she wanted.  Several times, she commented how much more fun it would be if Zibbi were present.  At one point, she pointed out a blue koala bear she was about to circle.  Before I could edit myself, I proclaimed, "Ew no!  That is SOO creepy."  Lotta began to cry.  Again, mentioning how Zibbi would understand how cute the Koala was, even if I did not have the capacity.  I suggested she ask Benja, who also proclaimed the bear creepy rather than cute (although, honestly, he may not be an impartial judge, as he finds ALL dolls scary.)  Thom, wisely, refused to vote.  As Lotta renewed her sobbing, I came over and gave her a side hug, muttering, "It's ok to be wrong."  I know it was a risky move.  It could have gone horribly wrong.  But, sometimes, that makes the funniest moments, when you risk a major upset in the name of humor. Fortunately, Lotta, surprised by my comment, began to laugh amongst her tears.  (Which as quoted in the movie Steel Magnolias, is one of the best emotions, "laughter through tears".)

Another time, Zibbi was terrified of a spider in her bedroom, which had had the audacity to crawl into her bed!! I mean really.  Zibbi fled the scene, still crying, wondering how she would ever feel safe again in a world filled with spiders.  I held her and listened while she cried and explained what had happened.  Then, I said, "You know who I feel sorry for, it's that spider.  Imagine how startling it must have been to see a GIANT in her home."  Zibbi, surprised, paused.  And then, luckily, laughed.  I am super lucky they have my sense of humor.  Because really their laughter is only encouraging me.