May 10, 2008

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

ee cummings

* * * * *

Charlie has a friend at school, a charming little girl with wispy blond hair and gigantic blue eyes and round pink cheeks. She loves him, and has told her mother that when she grows up she’s going to marry him. He seems to feel similarly about her, too, once writing her a note, all by himself, that said I LOVE YOU in big preschooler scrawl and then asking if we could mail it to her house.

Yesterday we learned that Charlie’s little friend has been diagnosed with lymphoma. At carpool pickup, a small group of mothers huddled together, whispering over the heads of our children, not wanting them to hear our conversation. We shared what little we knew and wondered what we could do for this wee child and her family. Mostly we just stared at each other in complete shock.

* * * * *

Next week, I am returning to ParentDish. When I left, in October, to write for AisleDash, I swore that I was finished writing about parenting, that I was done having complete strangers call me out for being a terrible mother because my children have an early bedtime and aren’t allowed to leave their toys all over the house. And then there was the commenter who, on a random post about Angelina Jolie’s daughter carrying a tiny Louis Vuitton handbag, suggested that I should find something “more important” to write about. Of course, I thought, because all those thousands of words I had written about autism and literacy and breastfeeding weren’t very important.

* * * * *

When I started this blog, in 2005, I was feeling overwhelmed and isolated; I felt like a terrible parent, not because I put my kids to bed early or kept them on a schedule or said no to them, but because being a parent can be overwhelming and isolating. It’s the nature of the beast, I think, even when you have healthy, happy children and a loving, supportive family life. I started blogging because writing about feeling isolated and overwhelmed, putting the words down somewhere, made me feel a little less isolated and overwhelmed. And then, to my great surprise, other people started reading what I was writing, and to my even greater surprise, they understood, they got it, they were feeling the same way or had felt the same way. And it was like a light in the darkness because while I still felt like a terrible parent some days, I felt less like I was completely failing.

That’s not a new story, I know; mommyblogs are all about community and connection and about a whole generation of women who have found a way to talk about what it means to be the mommy, for better or worse. I am going back to ParentDish because it’s a great job, but I am also going back because that community — the bloggers, the readers who understand, who get it — is an important one and one I believe in, and one that we all need at some point, because the work of carrying someone else’s heart around, all the time, everywhere — and that’s what we do as parents, really — is so very difficult, even at the best of times.

* * * * *

Last night, after dinner, we took the kids to the park. Charlie and my niece were on the teeter totter together, screaming with laughter as they bounced up and down, Charlie hanging on with his one good arm. And my niece said, “Charlie, you are my BEST FRIEND. You are the BEST COUSIN EVER. I love you, Charlie.”

And Charlie said, “Thanks Ellie! I love you too!”

I can’t stop thinking about Charlie’s little friend and her family. I know that the community at our school and at the church will take care of them, I know that people are praying for them and pulling for them. My mommy heart just aches for them.

April 29, 2008

things that are weighing on my mind

1. My hair is a disaster. I had it cut two weeks ago, and it’s already a mess. Also it is longer on one side than on the other, which makes me crazy. I think I need to change stylists, AGAIN, which REALLY makes me crazy.

2. On Sunday, we put mulch in the flower beds, over the flowers we planted on Saturday. I wound up with a wee sliver of redwood mulch in my finger, which REALLY hurt. Today it worked its way out and now my finger is fine. The human body is an amazing thing, you know.

3. Charlie has had at least one gigantic sobbing meltdown every day for nearly a week. I think he’s had it with the broken arm and the strep and the itching and the medicine and the missing school. And while I wish he would stop crying about his PANTS already, I feel for him; I would like to lie down and cry about my hair, for example (see #1).

4. My birthday weekend was lovely, clouded only by intermittent moments of badly behaved children, which is pretty much the norm around here.  But the entire quart of Thai peanut chicken salad that I ate made it all better.

5. I’m getting a new camera! Probably a Cannon Rebel, unless anyone has any other suggestions.  It needs to be very VERY simple to use and VERY easy to carry, because I am a delicate flower with a short attention span.  And a limited budget.  Just so you know.

And if you have any ideas about my hair, I would love to hear those, too.

Today is Tuesday, which means that while I was worrying about my hair and marvelling at the fact that my body PUSHED OUT A WOOD CHIP, I was also writing about other things, like what to wear to a new job and why the white handbag is the Perfect Bag for Summer. Go, read! You might learn something.

April 8, 2008

pass the Jagermeister

Tonight, Charlie ranked his medicines, just for fun. His favorite is the berry flavored Motrin, which is of course 80% sugar; second is the bubble gum flavored antibiotic, which is “kind of icky,” according to Charlie. Third is the Lortab, which is truly disgusting.

Not that I have tasted it or anything. That you know of.

I am of course relieved that the most addictive of the meds is his least favorite, although when I told Chris that I was trying to limit how much he took because it IS addictive, she said, “What’s he going to do, ride his tricycle to the corner to score more?”

Good point.

(more…)

April 7, 2008

broken: the update

We took Charlie to the pediatric orthopedist today, which will easily rank forever as one of my Least Favorite Parenting Moments. The doctor reset Charlie’s arm, although it is possible that “reset” is the wrong word, as it wasn’t actually SET in the first place, just wrapped up and immobilized. I had given Charlie a teaspoon of Lortab on the way out the door, because I was afraid of what might happen at the doctor, and I guess that took the edge off, sort of, because Charlie was a total trooper and held still through the whole process of unwrapping his arm and rewrapping it and manipulating the bones back into place.

I should have slugged some Lortab myself. That might have made the whole thing less traumatic for one of us at least.

The scariest moment was when the nurse took the outer layer of wrap off and we all saw that the gauze underneath was bloody. Because maybe possibly the bone actually poked THROUGH the skin on the inside of his forearm — no one is really sure. When I saw the blood, I nearly passed out. Twice.

The doctor very gently and carefully set the bones, while Charlie watched and worked to hard to keep his composure. He barely cried at all, which I find amazing. Even the X ray tech, who had seen the original films, said, “I expected to hear some screaming from that room.” The new X rays show that the bones are set properly now, which is a huge relief.

Then there is that matter of the hole in his arm.

It’s possible that the bleeding was from the fall; it’s also possible that the bone came all the way through. Charlie is taking a megadose of antibiotics, and we go back Friday for a follow up and to have the real cast on; we also have instructions to call immediately if we even THINK he has any symptoms of infection.

I’m sure he will be fine. I also don’t want to let him out of my sight.

Wade came as Charlie and I were finishing the X rays, after the unwrapping and rewrapping and setting. And of course, because I am a grown up, I saw him and started crying. Because in a crisis Wade makes plans and I cry. We work well together.

After the splint had dried, they cut it open along the sides, so that his arm can swell and not cut off the circulation.  And at THAT point, Charlie started screaming, probably because the cast cutter thingy is so loud and scary and when it touched his arm, it really hurt.  So that was fun for all of us.

I am tired and stressed; I don’t feel guilty, but I am a little worried completely freaked out by the idea that he might have some kind of infection. I have been staring at Charlie all afternoon, looking for any sign that things are not right. He thinks I have lost my mind. I probably have. My neighbor called today and told me that she had broken her arm in the exact same manner, including bone poking through skin and her arm was at such a crazy angle that people were staring at her in the ER, and I said, “Oh my god, I’m so glad to hear that, not that I want you to have had a worse experience, but because you seem to be JUST FINE now and I need to hear that.”

She said, “Well I don’t know about JUST FINE, but my arm is okay.” And I laughed for the first time all day.

broken

My poor little Froggie and his broken arm.  I will be buying him a pony when this is over.  Or possibly a Porsche.

April 6, 2008

how was my trip? well …

This morning, while I was brunching at Rockerfeller Center and listening to HeatherB lament the stupidity of liquor laws prohibiting the sale of alcohol before noon on Sunday, Charlie was falling off the retaining wall in our back yard and breaking his arm.

This afternoon while I was waiting in the Newark airport and making a to-do list for tomorrow, Charlie was waiting at the ER to have his arm X-rayed.

And this evening, as I was making my peaceful way back to the house, Charlie was throwing up on the new sofa because the Lortab doesn’t agree with his stomach.

He’s broken both bones in his right arm, above the wrist. Tomorrow we have to get it set, which should be a hell of a lot of fun.

When I go out of town, which isn’t all that often, people inevitably ask if I worry about leaving the kids with Wade, and I say of course not! Because never once have I returned to a child with a severed limb. Technically, that’s still true. Tonight, after Charlie said, “Mama, I missed you when I was at the hospital” and my heart exploded into forty million pieces, Wade said, “I was glad you weren’t here to see the arm.”

“Was it bad?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, “it was BROKEN.”

Welcome home.