Aftermath

I want to be one of those laid back moms who doesn't spend most of her time cleaning, but who can actually sit back and relax and just enjoy the time she is given. But above is a photo of dinner aftermath only a two year old can produce. That's a little cheese and rice and it covers 48% of the table. I clean it up, and then find eight million other things to clean before I ever sit down.

Tom the Neb Guy

"Shake it. Shake it hard, then get a tight seal, then hit it. You can't overdose on this stuff, guys, you will not overdose. Do not be afraid to give it to him. Get a tight seal. Hit it. If you don't feel like he got enough, hit it again. Any questions?"

The Kid was watching weird Nick toons in the Children's Hospital last night, admitted for wheezing and difficulty breathing. There are two types of nurses. The bubbly, loud nurses try to make friends with children by taking their voices up an octave and a decibel and waving stickers in front of their eyes. The Kid cringes and turns away from this. Tom is the other type of nurse, matter-of-fact, treating kids like they're people.

Bubbles and Condescending Doc - "Oh, we don't call it a fever until it hits 101 degrees" - set my baby on edge as soon as they walk in the door. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure CD with her vast fever knowledge and Bubbles are great at what they do, but I take on The Kid's posture right along with him and slouch in the corner while they lift up his shirt and put their cold stethoscopes on his skin. "Do you want a toy, do you want to play?" and then "Hi, hi!" they say, as if they are going to turn his frown upside down and no grumpy gusses are tolerated at The Children's Hospital, no sir.

Tom demands no such thing. It's like he realizes The Kid is in pain and lets him be in pain. He is over six feet tall. He's got a tat of a wedding ring on his left ring finger. His head is shaved .25 inches from his skull. He looks tired, and I don't blame him, because it's 10:00 pm. He's got on black crocs and blue scrubs, and a gold watch. He doesn't address The Kid, but kind of moves at him sideways until he's got his stethoscope over the little blue shirt and is listening to the ragged breathing. The Kid actually sighs and I can feel his hand relax.

Tom brings back the nebulizer tubing and hooks it up to the wall, explaining the drug Albuterol which my asthmatic Old Man is quite familiar with.

"Buddy, you will learn that Mommies always win."

I place The Kid on my lap and he is wheezing loudly now in quick, jerky gasps. We place the mask over his face and he begins to scream. I hold his arms and the mask over his face, not knowing how I have so many hands, and Tom stands in the corner, watching. The Kid screams during the ten minute treatment, and struggles, but I do not let the mask fall from his face. The Old Man stands beside us, not knowing where to put his hands. The Kid's screams gradually become stronger and bust out of him at the volume I'm used to and I thank god that I can hear my child screaming like normal.

Tom comes over and takes the mask off, and I see The Kid contemplate throwing a haymaker at Tom and thinking better of it. Tom walks out of the room and I hear "Mommies always win, Buddy," as he leaves.

Quote That Makes Me Want to Soul-Spelunk - Alone

My wonderful mom sent me a book of quotes called Thoughts on Being at Peace: Words and Paintings Selected by Helen Exley. There are many good quotes but this one epitomizes me at this time in my life.

We are so busy we hardly have time to look at the people we love, even in
our own household, and to look at ourselves. Society is organized in a way that
even when we have some leisure time, we don't know how to use it to get back in
touch with ourselves. We have millions of ways to lose this precious time - we
turn on the TV or pick up the telephone, or start the car and go
somewhere.
We are not used to being with ourselves, and we act as if we don't like
ourselves and are trying to escape from ourselves.

--Thich Nhat Hanh, From "Suffering is Not Enough"

Work and Family Balance

Here are ten ways to balance work and families from the study Ten Adaptive Strategies For Family and Work Balance: Advice for Successful Families by Shelley A. Haddock, Scott J. Ziemba, Toni S. Zimmerman, and Lisa R. Current.

Plus one I added.

This study focuses on dual working couples with children.

1) The importance of family is the highest priority.
2) Both partners strive for equality in both earning income and caring for the family.
3) The couples described enjoying going to work and deriving meaning from their work.
4) The couples also create and enforce strict boundaries to keep work and family separate.
5) Productivity at work is not sacrificed.
6) Fun becomes the first priority rather than more work at home.
7) Dual earning is valued and embraced.
8) Simplicity is an emphasis.
9) Successful dual earner families tend to collaborate on decision-making and be mindful of their boundaries as they do so.
10) Time is regarded as a valuable resource.
11) Time alone, solitude, is regarded as a valuable resource.

Annie's Garden - A Pantoum

Annie's toes itch for sun-warmed earth.
She is from rock-rimmed canyons, from sage crushed under horse hooves, from warm sandstone on bare feet.
It's impossible to put roots into the earth in a dorm, in a loveless marriage, in a small cramped apartment with an alley view.
In her thirtieth year, she is home.

She is from rock-rimmed canyons, from sage crushed under horse hooves, from warm sandstone on bare feet.
Her garden overlooks long mesas that crack against robin-egg skies.
In her thirtieth year, she is home.
Garden gloves are too sterile; she needs to crunch and crumble between thumb and fingers.

Her garden overlooks long mesas that crack against robin-egg skies.
North light clings to the studio walls, yet Annie spades.
Garden gloves are too sterile; she needs to crunch and crumble between thumb and fingers.
Vegetable seed packets lean against potted, expectant tomatoes, rosemary, basil and thyme.

North light clings to the studio walls, yet Annie spades.
Sworls and hard mesa lines in paint can wait.
Vegetable seed packets lean against potted, expectant tomatoes, rosemary, basil and thyme.
The sun warms her back as she pokes seeds in tilled dirt swirls.

Sworls and hard mesa lines in paint can wait.
It is planting time.
The sun warms her back as she pokes seeds in tilled dirt swirls.
She flexes her muscles and stretches out to the mesas and promises her heart she'll paint soon.

It is planting time.
Too many nights she wondered if she was worth anything at all.
She flexes her muscles and stretches out to the mesas and promises her heart she'll paint soon.
The air and the dirt and the bird noise fill her blood and bones.

Too many nights she wondered if she was worth anything at all.
Now she says, "Tell me how much you love me, honey" and smiles because the answer gets better every time.
The air and the dirt and the bird noise fill her blood and bones.
She returns the favor and fills her garden with roots.

Now she says, "Tell me how much you love me, honey" and smiles because the answer gets better every time.
He wraps her in his arms and whispers in her hair.
She returns the favor and fills her garden with roots.
Annie's toes itch for sun-warmed earth.

Mother's Day messages

First, I received an email with an article about balancing work and family attached. There are ten "adaptive strategies," whatever the hell that means, and I figure The Old Man and I are good on about eight of them. Where I still need work:

Fun is the priority at home. I struggle with this. For example, this Mother's Day weekend, I have a long To-Do list with items that truly are minute specks of worry and busy work. I don't have "fun time" with The Kid anywhere on the list. The other item I need to work on is Simplicity is an emphasis.

Then, this message from Annie:

LIBRA
This notice appeared on a bulletin board at a local nightclub that features hip hop DJs: "Missing: my great-grandmother's necklace, which dropped off my neck while I was krump dancing last Saturday. It might have happened when I was doing a head spin. The necklace has three strands of pearls and a pendant engraved with 'To Florence, 1927.' Contact Monique." I call this to your attention, Libra, because I think it's possible that you'll have an experience somewhat akin to Monique's. Playing exuberantly in a very modern style could result in you losing something from the old days. Unlike Monique, though, I bet your loss will be liberating.

Finally, a gift from my boss, a refrigerator magnet with an old-time picture of a June-Cleaver-esque housewife, saying:

HAPPINESS IS relaxing with a bottle of wine and saying to hell with keeping A TIDY HOME.

So, being the insightful person that I am, I think the universe is trying to tell me something. This is a weekend to "Chillax," as Eric from Twilight says.

And blessings this week:

• A friend and I had a wonderful talk and discovered we're going on girls' vacation at the same time in June.
• The Old Man sent flowers to my office, then cleaned our hall closet AND the garage.
• I dreamed about good friends a lot this week. We were planning our vacation in June.
• I finally found a bike The Kid likes to ride, so I feel like I have won a small battle in the war over his couch-potatoedom.

To all the mothers (and fathers) out there, working or not, because we all know stay-at-home parents work their butts off, take time to chillax this weekend. I know, I'm one to talk.

Quote That Makes Me Want to Soul-Spelunk

Which of us, walking through the twilight or retracing some day in our past, has never felt that we have lost some infinite thing? - Jorge Luis Borges