Worth Doing

We are all dealing with my mother-in-law's serious illness. She is a counselor, and yet she seems unable or unwilling to apply her own techniques of coping and stress-relief to help ease her own misery. She and I have long talks about doing that. Which is also hypocritical of me, 'cause I don't do it, either. I'm always saying to my therapist, "I know what to do, I just can't get myself to do it." And she always says, "Why is it that you think you're not worth taking care of?"

I do believe in a mind-body connection. I believe fervently in it. When I had my ulcers a few years ago, the book "Minding the Body, Mending the Mind" by Joan Borysenko was extremely helpful. I've been thinking lately, as evidenced in my last post about my legs, that I need to find a way to harness my powers of visualization or of my mind to get my body back. (Although I don't want to pay the $600 my doctor wants to help me do that.) I've been thinking about it at church (not praying, just thinking). Then I was at the bookstore Saturday for my time-out, and I picked up Deepak Chopra's book, "Quantum Healing." I always avoided his stuff, putting him in the category of Dr. Phil or that crazy Dr. Laura person, cheesy televangelist-types who weren't worth the time. But I read about 10 pages of that Chopra book at the coffee shop and I decided to buy it. It spoke to me loudly. Then I went to church on Sunday morning. The readings were about healing of lepers, and the young lady who gave the sermon started by recounting a seemingly miraculous (as hard as that is to believe, even by her) healing of her own mother, who had a mass growing in her abdomen that suddenly vanished after a Christian healing service.

Then, I came home and Dave brought in Saturday's mail. The cover story on Time magazine was about the mind-body connection and healing. OK, God, I get it! Now tell me what to do with it!

Today

Today is sunny and the wind is blowing hard; walking outside feels like navigating a pit of invisible moshers. As if I don't already have enough trouble staying upright. Today we had my stepkids overnight because their mother was out of town --a rare treat. S got up early and went to school, after a short blur of maple syrup and hostility bordering on the pubescent. R is sick, so he stayed home from school and Abby wandered around pointing at him and yelling, "RY-RY!" "RY-RY!" She knew it was special to have him here. I think he is her favorite person, when he's around. Probably because he doles out very small amounts of attention; or, maybe she feels the same way I do, that I'd do anything to coax one of those small, embarrassed smiles from him. [He wouldn't let me take his picture for this piece.]

Today I drove to the pharmacy to pick up meds I ran out of yesterday. The 24-hour withdrawal made me queasy and dizzy and gave me a throbbing headache. I tried to pick them up yesterday, but for some reason it was too early by my insurance company's count. I'm hoping no one is nicking my pills. When I did pick them up, they only had 59 pills instead of 60, so I have to go back again.

While I was driving around, I listened to the 80's station on Sirius satellite radio. For the first time in --what-- 25 years of listening to it, I realized that "I Would Die 4 U" is a song about Jesus. I also realized how absurd it sounded for David Bowie to compare himself to Marlon Brando in "China Girl." I saw the guy in our neighborhood who walks his Chihuahua and looks like the lead singer of They Might Be Giants, though today he had no dog. Probably afraid of the updraft. And I saw all of our porch and patio chairs strewn about by the wind. Perhaps my sudden powers of observation are related to having run out of my meds?

Today Abby and Silvia went outside for some fresh air, but while Abby was getting her coat, she grabbed the Dora umbrella and managed to pinch herself under the eye with it. It had been a week since she had a bruise or scrape on her face, so I guess it was time. Abby's hair is a mess today-- when I went to get her up, she stood up in her Sleep Sack and fleece jammies in her crib with her hair curling all which ways and laughing at me with her crooked, whistly giggle. She is cute and hilarious today.

At lunchtime, R and I ate turkey and cheese sandwiches together (though he claimed his bread smelled rotten, the turkey made his tongue hurt, and the cheese was fine but only by itself and only squished into little balls). He told me he didn't want to go back to his mom's house. I explained that I had to take him back to the nanny there because I am working today. In the end, I distracted him from the whole discussion with a Disney movie. What did moms do before? I guess Bugs Bunny.

Today we had heart-shaped waffles for breakfast, which D made because he was so glad his kids were here. I haven't called my mother-in-law today because she is really, deathly sick and I am not sure what to tell her and I don't want to intrude upon her sleep. Today I was supposed to spend 30 minutes writing, but I haven't. Today I have my Discerning Spiritual Gifts class at church, which I love. We are presenting "life maps." Creating a life map for me was a bit old hat -- not only have I done this exact project twice before, but I think almost all the time about how each piece and event in my life fits together into a coherent whole (if at all).

Today I drank a big cup of Irish breakfast tea with real sugar, a grande decaf nonfat latte with Splenda, and am in a bit of a coma after eating half of my Cadbury Milk bar.

Today is the same old kind of day.

Put Up and Shut Up

I get about 25 forwarded emails a day. Cute pictures (or, now, YouTube videos) of puppies and kittens, chain emails full of prayers and platitudes, jokes, and sometimes political diatribes. Below is an example of the last:

"This year, taxpayers will receive an Economic Stimulus Payment. This is a very exciting new program that I will explain using the Q and A format:
"Q. What is an Economic Stimulus Payment?
"A. It is money that the federal government will send to taxpayers.
"Q. Where will the government get this money?
"A. From taxpayers.
"Q. So the government is giving me back my own money?
"A. No, they are borrowing it from China. Your children are expected to repay the Chinese. "Q. What is the purpose of this payment?
"A. The plan is that you will use the money to purchase a high-definition TV set, thus stimulating the economy.
"Q. But isn't that stimulating the economy of China?
"A. Shut up."

Below is some helpful advice on how to best help the US economy by spending your stimulus check wisely: If you spend that money at Wal-Mart, all the money will go to China . If you spend it on gasoline it will go to Hugo Chavez, the Arabs and Al Queda (sic) If you purchase a computer it will go to Taiwan.... If you purchase fruit and vegetables it will go to Mexico, Honduras, and Guatemala (unless you buy organic). ; If you buy a car it will go to Japan and Korea . If you purchase prescription drugs it will go to India If you purchase heroin it will go to the Taliban in Afghanistan If you give it to a charitable cause, it will go to Nigeria. And none of it will help the American economy.

We need to keep that money here in America. You can keep the money in America by spending it at yard sales, going to a baseball game, or spend it on prostitutes, beer (domestic ONLY), or tattoos, since those are the only businesses still in the US."

Anyone who knows me should know not to send this email to me. For whatever reason, I've gotten it three times, now. This email is simplistic, jingoistic and bitchy. The main reason it annoys me, though, is that the people who send it seem to be doing nothing to change anything they are complaining about. Note the parenthetical "unless you buy organic." Do they? I don't think so. Do people buy local? Do they buy old-fashioned, made-in-America toys instead of Chinese junk, even if it's a bit more expensive? Do they avoid Wal-Mart, or do they want the cheapest of everything no matter what? Perhaps most importantly, do they try to take part in the global economy--maybe by training for a better job, or insisting on better education for their kids-- or do they just complain about its effects? If they don't believe globalization is in our interest, do they write or call their representatives, protest, educate themselves on international economics and the effects of globalization, so that they can understand where we fit in the equation? Apparently not. I guess I'm tired of the same old complaints, rooted in the perennial "those were the good old days" mentality that decries modernity and progress in all its forms, including those that inure to the greater good. Spare me the email, and spare me the sentiment. Go DO something about it.

Emphatic Abigail

When did her sweet, chirping "ma-ma" become "MAMA!!! MAMA!!" in double-time? She sounds like Will Ferrell in Wedding Crashers: "MOM! MEATLOAF!" I suppose it was inevitable, given her demanding mother, but Abby suddenly has become very emphatic and in love with the sound of her own shouting.

MEMO!!! (Elmo)
MUHMUH!! (monkey)
ROOOAAARRR! (Roooaaaarrr -- she has always done an emphatic lion's roar, actually)
BUHBUH!!!! (bye-bye)
BAH! (either Bailey the dog or ball, depending upon the context)
MMMM!! (moo)

She also nods 'yes,' emphatically, with her entire body starting at her belly.

Of course, she has a lot of words that she says calmly. I can only think of two words that consistently come out as questions:

Nana? (banana - as in, may I have one?)
Oh? (video - as in, please mom, may I watch another? accompanied by waving a DVD case or pointing at the tv, or both)

Right now, she is laughing her ass off at something. I think I'll go see what.

These Legs Were Made for Walkin' -- Right?

Feeling a bit sorry for myself today. I was standing at the top of the stairs, preparing to go down to have my tea, taking that moment to orient myself, make sure I was steady with a good hold on the banister, and then when I took that first step I felt that vertigo. A very brief, flashing reminder of the vertigo that happened on April 7, 2007 and sent us to the hospital. Today, unlike then, the vertigo was no big deal -- I went slowly down the stairs, holding on carefully. I have done this for so long, in exactly this way, that I don't even think about it any more. Usually. This morning, that brief vertigo made me think about the fact that I literally can't remember what it feels like to just jog down the stairs. Or stride quickly and purposefully through Nordstrom's to get past the perfumiers to the shoe department. Or run towards the dining room -- the best spot for hide & seek. I wanted to ask my husband if he remembers what I was like when I could move like a normal person, and maybe have him describe it for me. I wonder if there are videos from my early days with the kids I could watch.

I'm starting to feel like it's tough to visualize getting better because I can't remember any other way to be. Abby, of course, doesn't know me any other way. The kids have forgotten, too. They don't remember a time when I cartwheeled with them, or showed them yoga poses. That means they don't remember a time when I spent enough time with them -- one of the reasons I'm feeling sorry for myself today.

I guess there is one bright light: my cat hasn't forgotten. I know because (a) he hasn't stopped demanding that I play physical games with him, including a sort of reverse-fetch game where I do most of the work and (b) he seems to forget that I am clumsy and very likely to accidentally stomp on him with my bad leg, because he continues to weave in and out of my feet when I walk. So, there, it's not all that bad.

The Worst Way to Spend a Morning

I can't sleep in. The baby, of course, wakes me most mornings if I'm not already awake. I hear her fussing, first. She gives voice to that feeling I also have when I first wake up, something like 'ugh, i don't want to wake up, i'm tired, but i'm uncomfortable and now i'm going to have to do something about it.' It's not a long time fussing, though, before she starts talking. "Ba. Ba. Ba," in a happy little-girl voice.
"Pa. Pa. Pa."
"Da. Da. Da."
If she's really miserable and crying, it's "Maaa. Maaa. Maaa." That usually means a big diaper, or a small fever, or some other inconvenience.

She's not the only reason I can't sleep in, though. Lying down hurts. It's one thing at bedtime, when I've taken my Arthritis-Strength Tylenol (how long 'til I need a new liver?), but during the night and especially in the morning, when the painkiller has worn off and my muscles are all kinked up from lying on the bed, it hurts. It hurts so much that I don't even like lying in bed -- which is truly a damn shame.

The worst way of all to spend a morning, though, is trying to sleep in and not being able to. Often my saintly husband or my patient au pair has you-wake-her-you-take-her duty when I don't have to work, so I could sleep in --which means I feel like I should sleep in, so I lie there in bed in the darkened room, my back and neck just killing me, yearning for the days I could sleep til 10:00, at least, if life allowed. I spent two hours like that one morning recently, and it really ticked me off. I wasted all that time and was in more pain, to boot. I could have eaten chocolate, read a book, taken a walk, hugged the baby -- or even blogged. I think, never again. I think maybe I will never sleep in again.

I mean, really. Are we (i.e. everyone I know) the only suckers who pay our taxes? Are you kidding me?

ONE FOR THE RING FINGER OF THE OTHER HAND

congratulations Pittsburgh Steelers

221 DAYS 'TIL RAVENS SEASON