india!

I wrote this a few days ago just before I left the country. I didn't get a chance to post it then, so I'm posting it now. We (obviously) have internet access at this incredibly fancy hotel - that used to be a palace forcryingoutloud - but only for the next couple of days. I'm pretty sure I won't be able to get online after that, until we get home. So I'll post this now, and later today or tomorrow I'll post an update with travel details. I can't post pictures yet (sorry!) - don't have a cord to download them from the camera. But there will be lots to come! (And btw, it's wonderful here!!!) 

I'm off to India later today. This will be the last of this nutso summer vacation. At least it's been a vacation for me. For my husband it's been lots of work, a dying and then dead computer, several presentations at conferences, and stress. I've had a (mostly) lovely time. In fact, today I was thinking that during this trip I've experienced more joy than I usually have in my life. I need to examine why that might be the case. Then, it might be as simple as I'm on vacation.

Last night as I put Frances to bed I brought up the fact I was leaving in a day or two. She seemed sad. "Will it be shorter or longer than when we stayed with Grammy?" she asked. That was the 5 days we were in California. "Longer," I said. I didn't tell her it will be nearly three times longer. Then I talked about how Grandma and Grandpa are going to take good care of her, and I talked about the fun things she will do (including swimming in the lake every single day. Three days ago Frances didn't much want to put her face in the water, and today they both were doing running cannonballs off the floating dock. They did have on their float vests, but would go under completely when they landed. It's amazing). I don't know if talking about it helped, but she does seem less easily irritated today. I've really made an effort to focus on the kids nearly all the time, to let them sit on my lap anytime they want to, to give them as much energy and attention and eye contact as I can. I'd like to fill their cups before I leave so they have some reserves. And I keep telling Frances, next time I want to bring her with me. This time, though, it's just the grown ups!

bedbedbedtime

Bedtime is the pits. It's the time when the kids push all my buttons at once, try all their tricks, delay delay delay. The other night I was trying my best to stay calm and Frances was acting like a spoiled petulant 14 year old. Since we're at the grandparents', both kids were set up on air mattresses on the floor, with Mitch and me on the bed in the same room. Frances and I really got into it. Afterwards she wouldn't let me hug her, so I said that was okay, just said goodnight and hugged Clark, then I stood out on the hall to wait for her inevitable appearance at the door and to peek at her through the crack. At first she just sat on the bed and at the ceiling, the walls, the curtains. (I'd already threatened her with her life if her body left her bed).

"Clark," she said. No response. "Clark! I don't want Mommy to come back in here."

There was a pause, then "Why you not want Mama?" Clark asked, as if he hadn't just witnessed the conflict and subsequent wailing.

"Cuz she's bad."

Clark rolled over with his thumb in his mouth. Frances sat for a minute more looking up at the ceiling, then she started to make this funny loud grunting sound.

"Clark, I'm gonna make loud sounds to bother Mommy," she said. Which I thought was funny since she supposedly didn't want me back in there.

Clark sat up and looked at her. "But then I can't sleep good," he said frankly, and lay back down.

Finally she got up and wandered my way. She opened the door and saw me leaning there against the wall, and she just stood. I waited. Finally I said gently, "Did you need something?"

She waited another moment then said, "You're mean."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, honey," I said.

We stood and looked at each other a bit more, then I told her she could go to sleep on our bed rather than on the mattress if she wanted, and I would move her later. She turned and went back to her mattress. I kept watching. After a minute she got up and walked to the bed, where she curled up. I was getting ready to leave when she got off the bed and came back to the door. She walked right to me and wrapped her arms around me. I stooped down and hugged her, picked her up and sat her on my lap, and rocked her for a long time. I kissed her face and stroked her hair.

Finally she said, "I love you, Mama," and kissed me.

"I love you too," I said. "Are you ready to get in your bed?"

She nodded yes. Then she climbed off my lap and went into the room. At Clark's bed she leaned over to kiss him but he squirmed away, then she got in her bed, pulled up the covers, and went to sleep.

wear and tear

Our summer travel is rather cumbersome. So far we've been gone 27 days, driven 2236 miles, and slept in 7 cities. (That doesn't include the transcontinental flight Mitch and I took, and that's because we did that without kids. It falls only into the joyandrelief column, not the trialforkidsandparents column, which is what this post is about.) We've left the kids twice with family while we went away for 3 or more days, and we're getting ready to leave the kids with Mitch's parents for two full weeks while we saunter across the world to India. For some reason I didn't think clearly before we began about the effect all this was going to have on the kids. I hope this next trip isn't terribly trying for them.

Clark (age 3) is having a hard time. Either that, or he's moved into some fabulous new stage that I do not relish the thought of enduring. Someone told me recently that boys age 2-6 have 10 testosterone spikes an hour on average, and I believe that. I am further reminded of it when he's been away from his own routine and universe for weeks at a time. And weeks to kids feel like decades; I remember. Poor guy. It's all coming out in uncharacteristic aggression. He's defiant, he's resistant. Bedtime is a power struggle of wholly new dimensions. He's taken to yelling "NO! I WON'T!' about many things. He bit his cousin at the beach, and he's never bitten anyone before in his life.

That said, he and Frances are in love with each other. They spent the last hour of the last car trip in complete hysterics, cracking each other up over and over. It was charming to watch in the rearview. They hold hands between their car seats; they soothe each other when upset; they hug and kiss and offer to let the other play with cherished possessions. Maybe it's a defense mechanism to help each other cope while under stress, but it also assures me that having two was good for our family, rather than the solo one I sometimes wish I had.

On a separate note: we drove day before yesterday up from North Carolina to Michigan, where it's lovely and really hot. At 12 hours it was our longest drive so far, but that included stops for gas and bathrooms and searching under the seats for a particular toy. On the way to the bathrooms at a food / diaper change / bathroom rest stop Frances said to me, "Why do you call it a damn tv?" "What do you mean?" I asked. "Why do you call it a damn tv?" she said again. I had no idea what she was talking about. "When did I say that?" I asked. "Whenever," she said. "Like you do." "Can you give me an example?" I asked. "You know," she said, "like when you say 'Fine. Just turn on the damn tv.'" Which I haven't said in at least a month, so you know. 

water sky sand guns

Well, my son has learned the word gun, and how to make one with your thumb and index finger. And with legos. Until now he's been calling things shooters, a word I do prefer, and often the shooting is done by blaster dasters; for example, belonging to Iron Man and someone I had to look up named War Machine (played by Don Cheadle in the Iron Man movie, which I'm certain I will some day view). Yesterday when he pointed his index finger gun at me and said pshw pshw, I asked who told him that was a gun. "Henry," he said. His six year old cousin. "He said you point this finger, then put up your thumb like this, and it's a gun." Uh huh. This is what we get for multigenerational beach vacations. That, and really good scallops and cherry pie.

I'm rather in love with both my kids right now, sweet stages all around. We're in North Carolina for a two week beach vacation (with cousins and aunts and grammy), though Mitch and I left in the middle for three days to visit friends in Durham. For the first time ever, I believe - excluding going back to work when Frances was mere months old - I missed them. Maybe they simply had to be more than babies for the missing to happen.

It took me two full days in Durham to relax. I couldn't figure out why I was anxious - just general floating anxiety - and I now think it's simply that I'm always tensed and ready to spring to action. I was still tensed, but with nothing toward which to spring, and so the tension just circulated like stale air. It reminded me of when I went to visit Boise by myself (when Clark was 15 months, Frances 2 and a half) and I cried for the first three days. About nothing. Everything was just so moving. (You can read about that trip here.)

So now the beach the beach. A week is never enough, but maybe two weeks is too much? Yesterday the kids came to blows, but perhaps that is to be expected and means little about how long we should stay. There are big tide pools here during low tide and some of them are deep enough for the kids to actually swim, and for the adults to lounge comfortably. I'm including pictures.

Tomorrow morning we will leave. Half the party left today because of the gray skies and rain, though Frances and I went and swam in it. When we were walking to the beach this evening, Frances asked if the cousins were already at the beach, then she remembered they had gone home. Clark expressed sorrow and Frances said, "You still have me, Clark. You will always have me. We will always be together. Forever. When you go to Harlan's house for a playdate I won't go, though. But other than that, we will always be together." They were holding hands at the time. It was the first time they had been alone together in two weeks. I wonder if they missed each other. Sweet.

kids are (left to right) 2, almost 5, 6, 3, 4.  

poopie jokes are hi-larious

fourth of july parade

tide pool

traveling

I'm at the beach! It's lovely here. And hot.

I'm well aware it's been a long sad time since I've written here last, but I have excuses! After the last post I spent a full two weeks freaking out about getting packed for our SIX WEEKS of summer travel (will get to that in a minute). I mean, how do you pack for 6 weeks? Although there was little I could do two weeks before departure, I still dashed around the house in a state of mild panic which rendered me useless for things like fixing food and blogging. (And I do mean dashed. I found myself sprinting from room to room, as if walking was going to put me so much behind. Just a little anxiety.)

Then there was the first part of the travel itself (nine hour drive to Virginia with kids age 4 and 3, two night stay with my dad, four hours in the car to see more family, then four more hours to this lovely beach house.) We will be here two weeks - can you believe it? Two weeks at the beach. Yesterday Mitch and I floated in the ocean (temp of bathwater, so you know) while grandparents and cousins watched the kids to be sure no one ate sand or drowned, and Mitch said, "This is what it's all about," and then insinuated that all his crazy hard work and unavailability and stress is worth it so we can float in the ocean.

I don't know. It's hard to say.

Nonetheless, his hard work is indeed allowing us to not only hang out sunburnt for two weeks, but afterward we will leave the kids with my mom and go to California for five days (where he will have a conference and I will have a good time). THEN we will pick the kids up and drive to Michigan where they will stay with grandparents while we go to India for two weeks. Really! India! How awesome is that? I'm still trying to decide if I should haul my big fancy camera or take my mediocre tiny one....

So more to come, just an apology now for all the time between posts. It's hard for me to post when I don't have time alone, and it's hard for me to create time alone on vacations like this one. But there will be more. Soon.

bedtime is not my time

Okay, okay. So too much chocolate (probably coupled with handfuls of peanuts) is indeed too much of a good thing. Botox has its limits, turns out. So sad. Still! Only one headache in two weeks! It's unheard of, until now anyway. Since the one headache - last Friday - I've eaten all the triggers (cheese, chocolate, nuts) but not by the handful. Interestingly, I can feel this one muscle in my shoulder lock up when I eat these things, but no pain in my head. Good times!

I have so much more energy, am more patient with the kids, both of which are a relief to me. Now I understand how all the crafty moms take care of their kids AND sew whole quilts. 

Still, the botox didn't fix my bedtime problem. I am horrible at bedtime. I know it's supposed to be this lovely relaxing snuggle time with the kids, and maybe if I worked and didn't see them during the day, that is what it would be. But I don't, and it's not. It's the time when I'm almost off duty, just a few more minutes, dammit stop fooling around and open your mouth so I can brush your damn teeth. Sigh.

I try to give bedtime to the babysitters as much as I can. Last night the kids were out with their sitter and I was in the house being quiet, and I thought it would be nice to participate in bedtime, so rather than take the dog for a walk so I wouldn't be home when the kids got here, I stayed. Which was a mistake. It's not just hard on me; it's hard on them too. They just go down so much more easily for the sitter, everyone is calmer.

It's taken me a while to be honest with myself about this limitation. I felt like I should be better at it, thought somehow this one time of day was crucial to my success as a parent. Now I've simply admitted what is true. I don't know why it frightened me so. 

a crossroads. a turn.

[Note; the following post is mostly for my far away friends who use this blog to keep up with my life. Though this issue certainly impacts my parenting, my indulgence of it here is for those who know and love me personally. The rest of you, I will not be offended if you skim.]

It's a new world! Major changes over here, and this time not due to the kids' developmental stages. Nope, this one is about my developmental changes. Hold on to your seats. IT'S POSSIBLE MY HEADACHES ARE CURED. Perhaps I should wait to write these words, wait until the verdict is clear, but already the impact on my days and on my participation in motherhood (as in much else, as you will see) is radical. Let me explain.

I'd heard about botox as a treatment for migraines, heard it as a rumor. Then I read some, and turns out that women on the front end of the botox revolution who were receiving cosmetic botox in their forehead and temples, and who also had migraines, were discovering that their migraines were going away for the duration of botox treatment. At some point the pharmaceutical companies started running clinical trials, and last October the FDA approved it as a treatment for migraines. I found out in a random article sent to me by someone as a link. Why my neurologist did not shout this from the rooftop is a bit hazy for me, but it could be simply because folks get stuck in their ways.

I called my insurance company to see if they would cover treatment and, a thirty minute wait on hold assured me, indeed they will. When I asked my neurologist about it he referred me to a new neuro who treats patients with botox. Before hanging up I asked if in his experience it worked, and he said it was hard to tell because people generally used it as a last ditch, after all other medications had failed. But why? Why would it not now be a first choice? Or at least a third? Why would my doctor be more comfortable having me ingest handfuls of pills? I'm a bit confused about it.

Because the upshot is that if this works, not only can I eat like a normal human again, but I can come off at least 3 medications I'm on daily, not to mention the migraine pills I take for the actual headaches, plus the high dose NSAIDS (frequent) and codeine (rare) and anti nausea pills (medium). Are there any downsides to the Botox? Are people afraid of it and assume there must be? Cuz I don't see any. Except maybe that it's expensive, even with the insurance covering 80%. Still, it's not THAT expensive, and it's going to same me the money I currently put into the other migraine medications.

PLUS. Let us briefly discuss the things I will be able to enjoy on this earth. We'll touch on a select few and then move on. Ahem.

Brownies. Chocolate chip cookies, chocolate cake, Reeces cups. Dark chocolate bars, truffles, chocolate mint ice cream. Blue cheese, brie cheese, cheddar cheese, parmesan, manchego, fontina, gjetost, drunken goat. Enchiladas, PIZZA!, peanut butter, trail mix, ohmygoodness.

AND!

Wine.

Beer.

Coffee!!

(I don't hold out much hope yet for the coffee. It's the worst trigger of all. We'll get there and just see.)

I'm gonna gain a bunch of weight.

I had to jump through about 120 hoops to make all this happen, and maybe that's why the docs don't advertise... they don't want to deal with the hassle. But last Wednesday, a whole six days ago, I went to the neuro's office and had her stick my head - all around my forehead and temples (those really hurt!) and the back of my head. Since then I've felt better than I have since I was perhaps 5. Really. Six days might not seem like a lot to you folks, but it's unheard of for me. I recently kept a headache diary for the first time in a few years, and turns out I was having headaches 6 of 7 days. I didn't even realize how frequent. The really big ones were every 3 days or so. In addition, I now know that what I thought was "no headache" was actually about 2 notches up the pain scale. Who knew! There were times when I really did believe I had no headache, but I was wrong. It's like when white noise you didn't notice suddenly stops. Quiet. But you didn't realize it had been loud before. That's what it's like.

So no pain! On two different occasions so far I've had a handful of peanut M&Ms; two big triggers, and a certainty of a headache before. And nothing! Two of the last few days I took naps where I feel deeply asleep for an hour. Nothing! Magic! The past few days I've been happier, more patient with the kids. I also have the emotional space to be more creative with them, convince them to drink their milk at dinner by slurping my own and making it a game rather than badgering.

I could come out on the other side of this a different person. I wonder if you folks will even recognize me. Plus, I have a really smooth forehead.

For those of you with questions, you'll find the answers here: 1) The needles hurt some, but nothing a person can't handle. 2) Yes, my forehead is very smooth, but mostly in the middle. Up at the scalp line my skin still wrinkles; my neuro said they target more specifically in cosmetic botox. 3) They don't know why it works exactly, but the theory is that the botox relaxes the nerves that spaz out, which cause the migraine. 4) It doesn't work for everyone, and for some people it only gets rid of the big ones, but the little ones still slip through. (yet, maybe that's because botox is mostly being used for the most extreme cases... when I first saw this new neuro and told her what I wanted to try, before she said yes she gave me a whole speech about which medication combinations I could still try, and wrote me a prescription for several.) (And, frankly, if I had to pick, I'd rather have my big ones. Those I can at least treat with a triptan. The low grade ones I fight all the time are the ones that make me a shitty mom who yells at her kids.) 5) It lasts for 3 months. I've already made an appointment for 3 months from now.

I'm supposed to start my period in a couple of days. If I don't have a headache then, we'll know some major plate in the earth has shifted. Then I'll enjoy an amazing glass of red wine and see what happens. Oh my.

I'll keep you updated about the new me.

Frances in charge

Frances: "Pretend I'm a princess and you've never met me, and this is a real duckling. I mean, pretend you have met me before, but you've never seen this duckling, and he's real. Pretend you can only hear the duckling, you can't see him, and he surprises you. Pretend I'm a real princess, and I'm your sister, and this duckling is my pet."

A separate subject.
To my displeasure, Frances has lately been obsessed with American Girl Dolls. Do you know what these things are? They are overpriced and absurd, the hot thing now for at least the last decade. Because of their expense, they seem to be a sort of status symbol among girls, though Frances can't know that yet at 4, can she? They promote consumerism at its height, providing a catalogue carrying any kind of accessory you can imagine. The want is bottomless. I ended up on the American Girl Doll mailing list somehow, and when the catalogues come I rush them to the recycling before Frances can see them. Over Christmas, however, Frances got ahold of one and perused it at leisure with her grandmother. Oh well. So now an American Girl Doll is the goal.

Our eight year old neighbor got one, and she told Frances you have to be eight before you can get one, and I appreciated that. So I had my line: When you're eight, we can talk about it. Then Frances went to another friend's house for a playdate and at the end, while I was gathering up her shoes and coat, she appeared with Bitty Baby Twins, the American Girl Doll for the younger set which costs $100, two of them off all things, naked. "Maia said I could keep them," she said. Hm. I was saved by Maia's father, who said that "actually, Maia was given those by a special friend, and they need to be here when she comes to visit." Maia doesn't like dolls at all, and she was perfectly happy to hand Frances both dolls and their suitcases overflowing with pajamas and bunny slippers and blankies and several other outfits. "You can borrow them, though," said her dad. I tried to insist that we had enough doll clothes already and we'd just take the dolls, but in the end it all came with us.

We've since returned all of that, and at another playdate with a different girl, Frances came home with a full size American Girl Doll. Holy crap! How did she do that? She said she wanted one, and here one came. I have to say, she did seem to love it more than any other doll. She brought it to the grocery, to the library, and she buckled her securely in the seat beside her in the car. And, average sucker mom that I am, I did love seeing her joy with that doll. It's gone back now to its owner. This morning Frances asked how long it is til christmas because she knows what she wants to ask santa for. Her list was impressive; two specific American Girl Dolls, a bike for one, mugs and drinks and clothes, a pet for the other. She drew this picture to illustrate.

Much as I hate them, I wonder if she'll end up with one, and before she's eight. She certainly knows what she wants and does whatever it takes to get it. It's rather impressive. 

pirate love

Recently Clark and I went to visit the school where he'll be going next year. On the way he wanted to know if they had pirate hats and swords. He thought maybe he should bring his own. 

At the school is a great big castle room - a big wooden structure to climb on, with turrets and flags and thick matts up pushed up beside for jumping down onto. After a good bit of very physical climbing and playing on the castle, we all sat in a circle and sang w/ Teacher Tom while he played the guitar. He's amazing. He's one of those people who has a gift of speaking the Language of Children.

Anyway, after some singing and talking and instrument playing, some folks had questions, had things they wanted to say. Tom told anyone who wanted to say something to raise their hands and Clark put his up right away. I thought maybe he misunderstood, but then when Tom called on him he asked - without the first whiff of timidity - if Tom had pirate hats and pirate swords, which he did not. It was so cute.

compassion

Thank god, thank earth, and all that is; it is finally, finally, FINALLY spring. Horrible, that's what that was, the six weeks before. Maybe that's why everyone here hates the winter snow so much - they all know what's coming after.

I love the snow up here in the snowbelt. Though, to be fair, I have the ideal set up. I would probably not love it as much if I a) didn't have a garage and was forever brushing and scraping my car so I could b) go to work. That I am a stay-at-home-mom means when it's really painfully cold and deep, I just don't go out in it. It's one of the perks. Perhaps the perk, come to think of it. So I get to enjoy the snow when I want to. (In case anyone cares, I believe there are only two things you must do to enjoy the snow here. 1) get a really good coat (you'd never believe the number of fools walking around here in hoodies), and 2) go out in it. You don't even have to ski or anything; just layer up and go for a walk. The world coated in white is an amazing one.)

But now we're actually done with the snow. Done! I had truly begun to wonder if it was going to get warm again. I thought perhaps it would stay in the 40s all summer until the snow started up again in the fall. You should see the pink blooming trees in my yard.

So. Tuesday when I went to pick up Frances from school, she skipped to me singing, "playdate! playdate!" as she always does. Previously I'd made a policy not to give in to spur of the moment playdate requests, but I apparently forgot. She went home with her friend Maia, and Clark and I went home and ate lunch then took a snuggly nap on the couch.

When we got to Maia's house to pick her up, she and Maia were playing in the back of the backyard. They ignored me as long as they could, and before she'd even said hello to me I heard her say to Maia, "I don't like Clark." Frances was very difficult about leaving, as she often is, and when we got home she was as mean to Clark as I've seen her be. Wouldn't let him touch her things, grabbed things away from him, said how much she doesn't like him and how he's not good at playing, and then shoved him down. I didn't know what on earth was going on, and the end result of all of it was that I broke my no yelling streak. I was eight days in! Oh well.

After much crying and much lap sitting, she told me Maia said something really sharply to her at school and it made her cry, and then one of the boys was boasting about how great he was going to be, how he'd build skyscrapers and she wasn't going to do anything, he was so much better than her blah blah blah. That made her cry too. So she turned and did the same thing to her brother.

I don't know why I don't see this behavior when it's happening as a red flag that she is suffering in some way. If I could pause and address the suffering, rather than the behavior, everything would go a lot more smoothly.

Hopefully next time.

How confusing it must have been for her to have Maia be so mean but then want Frances to come to her house and play. And probably confusing for Maia too! To have these aggressive feelings toward someone you like... Emotions are a bizarre and unwieldy jungle to trek.

I hope I can help her, at least draw her a crude map of the paths I know to the other side.

I also think she was simply overstimulated, overexcited, exhausted. That's her temperament, her tendency, after all. It is spring - so suddenly - and she's probably playing harder (they play outside more than 2 hours at her school) Plus, it was on Tuesday, which is the first day of her school week, plus she stayed longer at Maia's than I would have liked. That's one lesson I had already learned (like the no-spur-of-the-moment-playdates lesson) but let slide: playdates should be two hours max. Any longer and she melts - usually moments after we pull away in the van.

My new rules, in order to avoid the above situation: no playdates on Tuesday, no playdates spur of the moment, no longer than 2 hours, and - the most important one - if she's acting uncharacteristically badly, then she is suffering because of something else. Gently, go gently. Try to wait. Listen.