BATMOM

Grandparents' Day

It was an action-packed day. The kids performed at school. Grandma Sheri spoke. Babu had stitches removed (not at school... obviously) and read a story to most of Cole's class (with all of them trying to get into her lap).

In honor of Grandparents' Day (and because Think Visual movie night is about to start downstairs and never ends until past my bed-time), here are some photos of the grandparents:

Hop! Hop! Poppy Bunny... and don't let the Easter Bunny catch you with those ears.

A trip to hall winery with Muzzie and Da below. I loved this chandelier! 

Anonymity

I have been very busy the last few days. I've been getting my screenplays in order to send out to appropriate festivals with script competitions. It's not the easiest thing: putting your work out there to be judged, but I feel ready. It seems less consequential in some way than it did pre-cancer. I'd never sent in a script to a competition before yesterday... my professors or colleagues did it when they felt moved. 

Why do it now? I need an agent, and I'm pursuing every avenue. Many of the competitions send their top scripts to "big" agents as their prize. So here I go... back into the world.

That's what it feels like. I can barely call friends right now, but I can send fictional characters, with whom I've fallen in love, out in the real world to test the waters (the not-too-cold waters, as my fingers and toes still recoil at cold). 

I hope that soon I will be able to be emotionally available as well. I feel a bit stunted right now. Okay, a lot. I thought that I would want to celebrate and drink champagne, but, alas, right now, I just want to be anonymous (it was tempting to check the remain "anonymous box" on the festival forms today). I trust myself, and I know I'm taking the path back to life. Yes, life. This feels like slow movement towards something good and something right. I just have to be patient enough to let the colored spinning wheel of the seemingly dormant part of my brain do its work.

I am looking forward to the holidays, and the time I will get with my kiddos home from school. I love Thanksgiving and sitting around a huge table next to relatives that I love and don't see often enough. I love the food. Are Grandma's mashed potatoes good or what? And Babu's creamed onions? And Joseph's pumpkin pie? I'M HUNGRY! Boredom creeps in and the kids find their way through it in a tryptophan kind of stupor.

Lastly, my neighbor who has also been going through cancer treatment (though he had no lymph node or liver involvement... HOORAY) called today post "happy colon, with no colon, surgery." He had the official take down (removal of bag) a few days ago and sounds AMAZING. He is a DOER and as a fellow doer, I know he's doing it. He sounds great, feels great and we plan to have a great time drinking champagne together soon (and be sure, I will enjoy it)! Hooray!

Not today

I have so much to say, but tonight is not the night to say it. I am tired after a full day, but am regaining energy and strength.

Spiders with Hiccups

I loved all of your comments about wiggling. I'm glad to hear there are so many groovers out there!!

Yesterday, George purposefully went up and kicked Cole. This was very unusual for George. He is a gentle sweetie. I got mad and sent him to timeout on the stairs. I went with him and asked him to tell me what he'd done to get a timeout. After telling me through tears, I asked him to apologize to Cole. "No!" he said. "No? You have a choice, you can apoligize or you can go to your room. What do you want to do?" By now Cole is on the stairs, in my face, telling me with Brando intensity, "DO NOT BE MAD AT GEORGIE!"  I asked the naked George (he and Cole had been a "team" of mad naked men when the kicking event came to pass) "You'd rather go to your room?" George cried again. "I want to go to my room." 

This was also not like George. So I asked him, "Why would you go to your room instead of just apologizing." He put his head in his hands and lowered them to his knees as he cried out in sadness, "Because I don't know what 'apologize' means." Little Sweetie. I explained. He apologized and then crawled into my lap.

Cole decided that was a good idea and joined my lap with Babu's help. I sang about my boys and kissed them. The song brought Adeline who also wanted to get in on the lap action. 

****

Beth came over with her baby Eman (2 months tomorrow). It was the first time I've really seen close friends since the end of chemotherapy. They make it too real. They know the younger, healthier me (when I felt immortal). I can't hide from them and I am slowly coming out of my hole... but I'm still scared.

It was great to see Beth because we could focus on the baby and not on freakin' cancer. Eman is a beautiful girl and she and her momma are so happy with each other. They're still one. Ah, I miss that time. The time when the baby was a part of you and always on you.

We went to music class with Cole and Adeline. Adeline exercized her right to say, "No" to music she did not like. She got in Ryk, the teacher's, face and told him "No!" Normally, she likes the Itsy Bitsy Spider but this one had the hiccups. No really, he did.  She continued to shake her head and say, No! No! NO!"

Cole had a suggestion. He was sitting next to an amused Ryk. "How 'bout a Superman spider?" "Excellent." And we sang the Superman Spider (with no hiccups). Adeline approved (she sings the Spiderman song, and the Batman theme song was her first melody before she could even speak). After the Superman spider, Cole promptly suggested a Batman spider. 

It was a nice day. But I'm oddly sad tonight. Writing to you all helps. Love to you all!

P.S. Did you see the video of Sarah Palin after she had pardoned a turkey? A man in the background is stuffing birds into a grinder as she talks. She's totally clueless. Bizarre! It's here.

Moving and grooving

I've been at 2 concerts 2 nights in a row. Last night was "classical." It was actually 1 Romantic, 1 21st century, and 1 late classical...but who's categorizing? 

Tonight, Tom and I joined Brad and Amy for a pre-baby Blue Grass music fix at Yoshis. This band was pure geek, in the best way. They were all exceptional musicians and they were more jazz with a purple electric banjo than blue grass. But they were craftsmen. 

What struck me was that last night I was embarassed to even wiggle my fingers to the beat and tonight I just swayed and wiggled and jiggled and all. Music, before Wagner and his sunkin orchestra pit, had people gambling and making love and yelling back at the singers. The Bluegrass seemed more in line with early opera. Hmmm... are we denying ourselves what is a natural response to the music. Is is right to teach our children to sit still when their body tells them to move?

What are your thoughts?

Human Jukebox

Cole "did" Rock'n'Roll while we waited for George's piano lesson to start. The doors and windows were shut, but his teacher could hear him from her second story window. I explained... rock'n'roll.

We had aesthetic differences on display in the Supermobile. After piano class, George went with Babu, and Cole and Adeline came with me. Cole wanted Rock'n'Roll and specifically "the shoe song." The shoe song is Elvis' "Blue Suede Shoes." And Cole rocks out and screams, "Go, Cat, Go!" 

Adeline said "No, no!" to every Elvis song. Even "You ain't nothing but a Hounddog," which at least has a "doggie" in it. She listens carefully for the dog reference and tells us (loudly). She would have none of that tonight and would not stop saying "No" until I put on the Classical station. I didn't know the composer, but it was a Romantic era rip-off and I wasn't crazy about it (and neither was Cole), but we were happy with a silent Adeline.

At bed time, I sing to Adeline. It used to be 3 particular songs, but lately she's begun to reject all of those (except the song I sang when she first came into the world... and, wouldn't you know it, the only one with words I don't know well). I've had to come up with new songs because she simply and confidently says, "No." If I try to continue (as if she might suddenly like the song if she heard the second line), she says, 'No. No." She's quite polite about the "No"s. She doesn't scream. She just lets me know... "that's not my thing." Debussy she likes. 'I see the moon," Reject. "Hush a bye" is okay if I sing it with her toys instead of horses. Brahm's lullaby...no in German, yes in hum language. ABC if she sings it. Frere Jacques (pronounced like a German jacket) is the same. I feel an ecstatic sense of accomplishment when she accepts my music, but my own tastes are being trodded upon by an 18 month old child.

What am I? A human jukebox?

"Juke box..." What the heck is the history of that name? Look it up! A la Wikepedia:

"The term "juke box" came into use in the United States in the 1930s, derived either from African-American slang "jook" meaning "dance" or from a name given to it by critics who said it would encourage criminal behavior, this came from the fake family name Juke. "

But who am I kidding? I love it. I like strong opinions in people and I like learning something when I disagree (though how often I convert is another discussion). I know well that Adeline, Cole and George will challenge my opinion for the rest of my life (as their father already has) and on the rare occasion I will be converted. And sometimes, we'll just sit down for tea and talk only in jibber-jabber (with rhymning nonsense couplets, naturally). That will be nice, too.

Superheroes

 

Superheroes (yes, Little Bo Beep, counts).

Well the final CT scan results came in today and HOORAH, everything looks great. Shouldn't that give us some relief? I think the relief is starting to set in... I hope. 

We saw my Berkeley oncologist today. He thinks I should just take the port out. YES! I hate that thing and for no good reason. It seemed as if I got some weird device in the healthiest part of my body. Truthfully, its needle connected to the main vein going right to the heart (no messing around).

The awesome doctor that was going to do the second, happy stage of my colon surgery moved to MD Anderson in Texas. Bummer. New doctor. Bummer. It'll be my third colorectal surgeon. Urgh.

Cole is having a hard time these days. He's scared of ghosts and monsters (and, yes, George taunts him because it's "a little bit interesting"). He wants to be a superhero every day. George also wanted to be a superhero (from 2 days before his 2nd birthday to a few months ago at 4... that is, I assure you, a lot of Target pajamas). It's different between Cole and George, though. George knew everything about every power that every superhero had. He refused to wear short sleeve shirts (many of the Target superhero pjs are short sleeved) because he'd never seen a superhero with short sleeves (except Robin and Target doesn't have Robin pjs). 

Cole is not fussy about the particulars. He doesn't care about getting their names exactly right and, as far as he's concerned, all superheroes have ALL powers. He's into their moves. He likes to "fly" and do superhero somersaults and kicks and ducks and foot work. Cole insists on superhero underwear. Don't even THINK of putting Mickey Mouse underwear on him. Really, it's insulting.

What is the same is that both boys have needed the superheroes. It's a shield for them in an interesting, but not-as-safe-as-home class room. It also gives them confidence that they really need in these volatile times.

And as I whisper in their ears at night, they are superheroes. They are my superheroes. 

Transformer and White Power Ranger prepare to battle evil.

Little Bo Peep found her sheep!

 

The White Power Ranger gets into character and below George is transformed into a monkey!!

 

The transformer and White Power Ranger escort Poppy to jail!

Happy Peep!

Get into the Groove

What to say today? 

Adeline and I danced in Anthropolgie. We danced in the garden. We danced at the boys' school. But she would not dance in music class. 

I want to take a dance class, but one that has no routine I have to follow. I'm really bad at that... I am still scared from that 1980s aerobics class. Oh, yes, I had those Olivia Newton John leotards. Eegads, scary.

After the official CT results tomorrow, I feel that I will be able to start work on the book again and start sending out my screenplays to agents. I hope. I know the bridge from this holding station is nearby, I just need directions there. Maybe not. Maybe I just need to get off my ass (pardon me) and shuffle across the street.

I got back to Bach today. That was nice. I turned off the news radio and relaxed to Bach and then smirked along to Dylan. 

I love all of your comments and emails. They are feeding me right now. That and the Spring Awakening soundtrack. Spring Awakening, the musical, is based on a Bruckner play (from the Victorian era) that I love. It deals with teen angst and sexuality in the Victorian Era, free thought, heroes... Two local Bay Area guys wrote the libretto and music. Have I written this before? Deja vu.

This INFURIATES me:

SC Priest: No Communion for Obama supporters. Read HERE.

Again... And yet those that support Bush, who authorized torture and commits to the death penalty, which are also contrary to Catholic doctrine, can have communion? I find this behavior outrageous. 

All in all, I feel that it is time to get my groove back. Yes, yes, I know to take it slowly. But I am desperate to move on. 

CT

All these acronyms in the world of medicine... and the blogosphere... urgh!  Okay, color me ignorant, but what the hell is LOL? I thought it was "Lots of Love" but, upon further examination, that does not seem to be the case . 

CT-PET. I had a pet, Milky, but she died. Come to think of it all of my pets have died. Yep, that's the kind of day it's been.

So the liver looked "great." My liver surgeon couldn't speak for his wife my oncologist, so we couldn't get an official report. This, of course, alarmed me, as most things do these days. He assured me that there was nothing major, but we're on pins and needles until they call with the official report on Friday. If it were the C was to come back it would likely be in the liver, so I guess the news is good.

He said I was cancer-free right now. That's not real to me yet. He then told me that it's a 60% chance of recurrence. I knew that before, I think, but I put it out of my mind. For me, it means the cloud will never be truly lifted. I am trying to learn to live with this weight and it is no easy challenge. 

I cried tonight when we talked about the the kids driving themselves to school... in the years to come... I want to teach them to drive. I want to be at their graduations. I want to see them have their own beautiful babies. I want to spend too much time lingering over tea in the morning with Tom. The older we grow, the longer we linger.

$6,880 dollars for a CT scan. LOL. And that was with a 30% discount. TS. (a. That Sucks, b. That Stinks, or, my favorite, c. That's Succotash, d. all of the above).

I have now. I'm strong now. I have to get over that 60%... that number... I've beaten bigger odds than that. It's only a number. Right? 

Adventure (of the nice sort).

Tom and I both had hard days today. Probably because the CT scan is tomorrow.

I've started checking out potential jobs. Depressingly, there are plenty of development jobs in the Performing Arts. Should I grab one now? I want to try writing for a living first but it would nice to have some stability in these economic times. 

Ho hum. 

I feel like running away today. Not away from my family, but I want to feel carefree and run to Alaska, to Paris, to Dubai... I want to drive too fast in a convertible. I want to dance too long and walk barefoot to the car. New adventures are to come. I want them. Cancer free ones, to be sure. I want my mind to move fast again.

Some pictures of Italy from years back...

Dante: Gelato or cigarette?

And, yes, Sweet Adeline.