is the Mama?
Down Under, of course!
The Imperfects have hit the road (airways?) and are currently in Melbourne, after a soggy three day trip to the southernmost tip of Australia. More later, after the sabbath, when I'm procrastinating (I have a print deadline tomorrow, and the article is currently pretty damned limp).
more soon, once I have time to type up my notes....until then, here's the email that the Eldest sent to his school friends in the Gimmel class:
Dear Gimmels,
This is me who is in Australia. We saw a wombat for the first time, when we were going into our cottage for the first day. The cottage is in Wilson’s Promontory. When we saw the wombat, we just went inside and we didn’t feed it, because that’s what the sign on the porch on the floor said: No Feeding Wombats, No Feeding Kookaburras, No Feeding Possums, No Feeding Seagulls. Yes Feeding Toddles.
[Eldest’s Mum: Wilson’s Promontory is a national park, and is about as far south as you can go in Australia. Since Australia is already very, very far south, Wilson’s Prom is extremely south! But it’s warm, and there are no penguins here. There are penguins about an hour away, but they are the kind that like warm weather.)
At night time, we saw a possum! It was outside, and another was on the hill. It was it’s buddy. The possum had a long tail, and some of it was black and some of it was brown and some of it was white. We could see it because it was very dark outside, but it was a teeny bit light. And that’s how we saw the possum.
Today, we went to Squeaky Beach. The sand did squeak! I thought it was funny. And I loved it. We saw lots of cuttlefish, and they were dead and in the sand.Once ago, the fish were there in the sea and people were all the way on the other side, but then the ocean moved to a different place, and that’s how the fish did break and die. And there was a humongous rock.
And we did lots and lots of hiking! We hiked some on Squeaky Beach, and then we went up and up and up. We went so high that some of us almost fell off the edge. NO!
[Eldest’s mum: the hiking was lots of fun. We hiked up, up, up the mountain until we could see the beach far below. Then we went through trees and ferns and moss around the mountain, until we came to Tidal River. There we went down, towards the river and crossed it on a footbridge. It was lots of different little environments, and they were all beautiful and interesting.]
I hope you are all having fun! Goodbye, Gimmels.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Thursday, May 17, 2007
trading places
Yesterday, I fell down a flight of stairs.
I wish that I could say that this was an isolated incident, and that normally I am a graceful human being, whisking my way through life. In fact, my normal modus operandi is closer to that of a bulldozer than a swan. Nine years of ballet, and my typical approach involves a charge. I've made my peace with it, and am aiming for a sort of zen approach: if I can't stop the charge, then just lean into it and guide the energy. Sorta.
So, as I fell, I said to myself, oh, bugger. Just go with it, woman. Just go with it. This is, in case you were wondering, the advice borne of experience, which allows one to roll rather than bump, saving any number of bruises later. This voice was, alas, directly contradicted by the mama instinct, which had me grab for the Toddles. One moment my foot was on the step, the next it wasn't; one moment the Toddles was on my hip, the next he wasn't.
We flew through the air, he landing in a graceful arc on some carpet, me twisting viciously and fruitlessly to catch him. Ow. He wailed and I delegated all griping to the child, who performed admirably. Good lad, that one. Good lungs, too. A few kisses, a snuggle and a quick nursing and all was well.
This morning, I noticed a flash of purple on my lower back. Huh. Sure enough, there was a nice bruise, a couple of inches wide. Cute. Over the course of the day, the bruise grew, until it was bigger than my hand, and with a solid swelling underneath. It started to hurt when I leaned back in my chair, when I sat the wrong way, when I walked. My skirt was tight around my waist - on one side, only. Irked, I called my primary care doc's office to ask advice, and found myself looking at a nice young doctor, who backed up slightly when I offered to lift my shirt to show him the purply-red bits. He yanked my shirt down quickly, happily rotated my joints, and declared me bruised but healthy.
And here's where it got funky. I accepted his opinion because I wanted to hear it - nothing cracked or dented in the spine, sure ya crazy lady, go on vacation- but as I drove home, I realized that the majority of my brain was in rebellion. No hematoma? What is he kidding me? Did he compare one side of the back to the other? I could feel heat, solid swelling, and the bruise was growing at an impressive rate, matched only by the increased swelling beneath. Those hoofbeats may yet be a horse's, but I wasn't absolutely persuaded that a zebra wasn't involved.
A deep breath later, I called the hematologists. They listened briefly, and prescribed factor. You can give it to yourself, right? Me? Factor? I waited for the punchline. Silence on the other end of the phone, so Sure. I can have the Eldest do it - he'd love that.
And he did.
1/3rd tsp salt
Preheat oven to 400F.
Sift together (or put in ziploc and shake well) dry ingredients. Cream butter, sugar and vanilla until well mixed. Add eggs/egg subs, beating well. Add bananas, mix well. Add dry ingredients, mixing well.
Pour into non-stick muffin tins, preferably greased somehow. Fill 3/4ths full, and bake 20 minutes.
I wish that I could say that this was an isolated incident, and that normally I am a graceful human being, whisking my way through life. In fact, my normal modus operandi is closer to that of a bulldozer than a swan. Nine years of ballet, and my typical approach involves a charge. I've made my peace with it, and am aiming for a sort of zen approach: if I can't stop the charge, then just lean into it and guide the energy. Sorta.
So, as I fell, I said to myself, oh, bugger. Just go with it, woman. Just go with it. This is, in case you were wondering, the advice borne of experience, which allows one to roll rather than bump, saving any number of bruises later. This voice was, alas, directly contradicted by the mama instinct, which had me grab for the Toddles. One moment my foot was on the step, the next it wasn't; one moment the Toddles was on my hip, the next he wasn't.
We flew through the air, he landing in a graceful arc on some carpet, me twisting viciously and fruitlessly to catch him. Ow. He wailed and I delegated all griping to the child, who performed admirably. Good lad, that one. Good lungs, too. A few kisses, a snuggle and a quick nursing and all was well.
This morning, I noticed a flash of purple on my lower back. Huh. Sure enough, there was a nice bruise, a couple of inches wide. Cute. Over the course of the day, the bruise grew, until it was bigger than my hand, and with a solid swelling underneath. It started to hurt when I leaned back in my chair, when I sat the wrong way, when I walked. My skirt was tight around my waist - on one side, only. Irked, I called my primary care doc's office to ask advice, and found myself looking at a nice young doctor, who backed up slightly when I offered to lift my shirt to show him the purply-red bits. He yanked my shirt down quickly, happily rotated my joints, and declared me bruised but healthy.
And here's where it got funky. I accepted his opinion because I wanted to hear it - nothing cracked or dented in the spine, sure ya crazy lady, go on vacation- but as I drove home, I realized that the majority of my brain was in rebellion. No hematoma? What is he kidding me? Did he compare one side of the back to the other? I could feel heat, solid swelling, and the bruise was growing at an impressive rate, matched only by the increased swelling beneath. Those hoofbeats may yet be a horse's, but I wasn't absolutely persuaded that a zebra wasn't involved.
A deep breath later, I called the hematologists. They listened briefly, and prescribed factor. You can give it to yourself, right? Me? Factor? I waited for the punchline. Silence on the other end of the phone, so Sure. I can have the Eldest do it - he'd love that.
And he did.
It was odd, getting factor, though the sense of displacement was strongly outweighed by a desire to puke. Gotta love the phobias, they do have a sense of timing.
So here's the thing: I felt - feel - guilty. Why am I getting factor? Why aren't we all worried about the Toddles (who, by the way, ate his weight in pasta today and told more knock-knock jokes and generally seems just fine)? It felt somehow petty and self-dramatizing to be insisting on having the hematologists pay attention to *me*, a feeling I remember well from the first time they prescribed something, to make my nosebleeds stop. The drug worked, but I felt uneasy.
I've said (loudly) for some time now that symptomatic carriers are just women with mild hemophilia, whose diagnosis gets cluttered up by their uterus. I've said (also loudly) that such women should be treated as if they have hemophilia, and assessed. And, in the spirit of putting my veins where my mouth is, I have gone and been tested to check my clotting levels (low) and how I respond to a med. designed to boost clotting levels (DDAVP). But to actually get factor? That kind of blows me away. I'm just not sure what to do with this - and it's making me a little uncomfortable. But maybe that's the reality of forcing past a percieved role/pattern? I felt that way the first time I left the ER with the Eldest, having refused a procedure.
Damn. Like I needed a new kind of mama guilt. Still, the reversal of roles (me getting factor, the Eldest giving it to me) has supported the empowerment-driven upswing in the Eldest's behavior. With each practice with self-infusion (and, apparently, mama-infusion), the Eldest seems more confident, more tolerant of his chaotic little brother, more willing to work with his testy mama. It's a good, good thing. Obviously, he doesn't feel like his turf has been invaded by his mother, and today he welcomed me to the club. Now we can both get factor! Together! So, just possibly, it's good that the kid might be the one giving me the next two or three doses of the stuff - assuming, of course, we can get the h.c.co to ship it over to us! This 'script is for you? Are you a hemophilia patient now? I thought it was for your son, said the confused pharmacist. Roll with the punches, honey. Just roll.
*************************************
Some time ago, I wrote this post, and exclaimed over the joys of these muffins. I recall clearly the patience with which Mary Jr ate that latest offering. She needed far less patience for these, I'm happy to say, and was assisted in her role as guinea pig by a happy Toddles.
Light at the End of the Tunnel Banana Muffins
makes 12 muffins
1/2 c. margarine (be careful about colorings and flavorings!)
1/2 c. brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla
3 eggs/flaxgel subsitutes (1 Tb ground flaxseeds/flaxmeal + 2 Tb water, zapped in a microwave = 1 egg sub.)
1 Tb ground ginger
1 cup mashed bananas (about 3)
3/4ths cup brown rice flour
1/2 cup potato flour
1/4 cup soy flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/3rd tsp salt
Preheat oven to 400F.
Sift together (or put in ziploc and shake well) dry ingredients. Cream butter, sugar and vanilla until well mixed. Add eggs/egg subs, beating well. Add bananas, mix well. Add dry ingredients, mixing well.
Pour into non-stick muffin tins, preferably greased somehow. Fill 3/4ths full, and bake 20 minutes.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
a sense of humor
In case you were wondering, today's word was made for this blog: vitiate.
*******************
Things have settled back down at Chez Imperfect, after the euphoria of the Eldest's self-infusion. Bouyed up, he tried it again a few times, and now has a batting average more appropriate to his age. I found this both a little disappointing (he's not a prodigy??) and a relief (he's not a prodigy). He, however, was undaunted, and at a recent bleeding disorder event was explaining to the mother of a 5 year old that sure, Ben can learn to do his own factor! He's five, like me, and five year olds are ready to learn. The other mum respectfully inquired as to whether the Eldest would come and offer a tutorial. He agreed, but wanted to be absolutely certain that she understood that Ben can learn it on his own, because he's five. I rather begged to differ, and pointed out that, in my tutorial sessions with the Eldest, there has been much parental supervision.
Meanwhile, the Toddles has been taking his own leaps and bounds:
In the highchair, flanked by Mary Jr. and the Mama:
Toddles: round and round! draws circles with finger.
Adult: Yes, that is round.
Toddles, with emphasis: round and round!
Mama: what's round and around?
Toddles, proudly: eyt!
Indeed, the number eight goes around and around. Good point, kiddo.
******
When not polishing his abacus, the Toddles has also been refining his sense of humor. His sense of timing is really quite good, though his sense of audience is perhaps a bit lacking - as we saw today, when he flung a handful of dirt at a co-community gardener. He laughed, she...was tolerant.
Here, then, is his first knock-knock joke:
knock-knock
who's there?
moo.
Moo, who?
moo. laughs hysterically.
In case you were wondering, this is a variant on:
knock-knock.
who's there?
impatient cow.
Impatient-
(interrupts) MOOO!
The Toddles has simply skipped the penultimate line for his part, and focused on the punchline. You'll note, however, that he's worked out which bit is supposed to be funny, and defers dissolving in laughter until that point. Clever kiddo.
Humor is a quality in short supply around here right now, as we prepare for the Great Family Vacation, a plan that has been 1.5 yrs in the making. With my grandmother turning 90, and her gift of airfare, we're trundling off on Sunday to go Down Under for most of a month. Wahoo!
It's been an uphill affair thus far: Qantas told us to stay home if we have that many allergies, TSA told us not to bring food, the home care company struggled to figure out how to ship clotting meds and medical supplies overseas, and I've organized my not-so-teensy ass off.
It's coming together. We're renting an apartment, we're borrowing a car and a million pieces of kitchen equipment, Zina lent us a baby carrier for hiking, my uncle and aunt are arranging for groceries to be waiting for us when we arrive, I've mailed hard-to-find pantry items to ourselves (which Zina collected for us), Mary Jr. worked countless extra hours while I ran around looking crazed. She quietly closed doors/ovens/shut off open flames behind me, drank endless cups of tea with the Toddles and played a version of Uno unique to her and the wee one. Hours of discussion later, I think I've explained to the h.c.co how to mail meds to us. I hope (there was still some uncertainty at the end of the day). Oh, yes, and I told TSA not to be silly, stared Qantas down and stocked up on documentation enough to stun a charging hippo - or an overeager TSA/customs person.
Man, am I wiped. But we might just be ready. Now, if only I had a birthday present for the Great-Grandmere! A year and a half, months of planning and saving and I forget that? Sigh. How (say it with me, now) imperfect.
*******************
Things have settled back down at Chez Imperfect, after the euphoria of the Eldest's self-infusion. Bouyed up, he tried it again a few times, and now has a batting average more appropriate to his age. I found this both a little disappointing (he's not a prodigy??) and a relief (he's not a prodigy). He, however, was undaunted, and at a recent bleeding disorder event was explaining to the mother of a 5 year old that sure, Ben can learn to do his own factor! He's five, like me, and five year olds are ready to learn. The other mum respectfully inquired as to whether the Eldest would come and offer a tutorial. He agreed, but wanted to be absolutely certain that she understood that Ben can learn it on his own, because he's five. I rather begged to differ, and pointed out that, in my tutorial sessions with the Eldest, there has been much parental supervision.
Meanwhile, the Toddles has been taking his own leaps and bounds:
In the highchair, flanked by Mary Jr. and the Mama:
Toddles: round and round! draws circles with finger.
Adult: Yes, that is round.
Toddles, with emphasis: round and round!
Mama: what's round and around?
Toddles, proudly: eyt!
Indeed, the number eight goes around and around. Good point, kiddo.
******
When not polishing his abacus, the Toddles has also been refining his sense of humor. His sense of timing is really quite good, though his sense of audience is perhaps a bit lacking - as we saw today, when he flung a handful of dirt at a co-community gardener. He laughed, she...was tolerant.
Here, then, is his first knock-knock joke:
knock-knock
who's there?
moo.
Moo, who?
moo. laughs hysterically.
In case you were wondering, this is a variant on:
knock-knock.
who's there?
impatient cow.
Impatient-
(interrupts) MOOO!
The Toddles has simply skipped the penultimate line for his part, and focused on the punchline. You'll note, however, that he's worked out which bit is supposed to be funny, and defers dissolving in laughter until that point. Clever kiddo.
Humor is a quality in short supply around here right now, as we prepare for the Great Family Vacation, a plan that has been 1.5 yrs in the making. With my grandmother turning 90, and her gift of airfare, we're trundling off on Sunday to go Down Under for most of a month. Wahoo!
It's been an uphill affair thus far: Qantas told us to stay home if we have that many allergies, TSA told us not to bring food, the home care company struggled to figure out how to ship clotting meds and medical supplies overseas, and I've organized my not-so-teensy ass off.
It's coming together. We're renting an apartment, we're borrowing a car and a million pieces of kitchen equipment, Zina lent us a baby carrier for hiking, my uncle and aunt are arranging for groceries to be waiting for us when we arrive, I've mailed hard-to-find pantry items to ourselves (which Zina collected for us), Mary Jr. worked countless extra hours while I ran around looking crazed. She quietly closed doors/ovens/shut off open flames behind me, drank endless cups of tea with the Toddles and played a version of Uno unique to her and the wee one. Hours of discussion later, I think I've explained to the h.c.co how to mail meds to us. I hope (there was still some uncertainty at the end of the day). Oh, yes, and I told TSA not to be silly, stared Qantas down and stocked up on documentation enough to stun a charging hippo - or an overeager TSA/customs person.
Man, am I wiped. But we might just be ready. Now, if only I had a birthday present for the Great-Grandmere! A year and a half, months of planning and saving and I forget that? Sigh. How (say it with me, now) imperfect.
****************
The tea party (see left) looks enjoyable, but occasionally carbs are in order. With that in mind...we've been eating this for the past week. I toss in cherry tomatoes, avocado, cucumber, whatever's around to freshen up the leftovers. Despite my efforts, the boys are completely fed up with it, but I'm still happy..
Rena's Marvel Mit Ze Non-Couscous
1/3rd cup olive oil
1 tsp cumin
1 c. quinoa, rinsed 2-3 times
1 onion, chopped
3 scallions, chopped (or red onion)
4 Tb fresh mint (or use dried, to taste)
2 sticks cinnamon
3/4s cup dried cranberries
2 Tb wine vinegar
1 can white beans, rinsed
Heat oil, cumin and cinnamon. Add onion and saute gently. Take off the heat. Once cool, add everything but the quinoa.
In the microwave (or on the stove), cook the quinoa according to the package directions. Add to onion-spice mixture. Toss and serve.
*******************
having fun... thanks to the DW!
1/3rd cup olive oil
1 tsp cumin
1 c. quinoa, rinsed 2-3 times
1 onion, chopped
3 scallions, chopped (or red onion)
4 Tb fresh mint (or use dried, to taste)
2 sticks cinnamon
3/4s cup dried cranberries
2 Tb wine vinegar
1 can white beans, rinsed
Heat oil, cumin and cinnamon. Add onion and saute gently. Take off the heat. Once cool, add everything but the quinoa.
In the microwave (or on the stove), cook the quinoa according to the package directions. Add to onion-spice mixture. Toss and serve.
*******************
having fun... thanks to the DW!
| What Your Soul Really Looks Like |
 You are a warm hearted and open minded person. It's easy for you to forgive and forget. You are a grounded person, but you also leave room for imagination and dreams. You feet may be on the ground, but you're head is in the clouds. You see yourself with pretty objective eyes. How you view yourself is almost exactly how other people view you. Your near future is all about change, but in very small steps. The end of the journey looks far, but it's much closer than you realize. For you, love is all about caring and comfort. You couldn't fall in love with someone you didn't trust. |
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