BATMOM

Sleeping through the Night

Today was hard. I ended up on the couch watching America's Next Top Model. Really.

My wound nurse told me to slow down, lie down and watch bad TV. So I did. Whenever I watch bad television, I end up dreaming about it. It is such a lesson... the ICK we put in our brain (even if we're just trying not to think about the pain) is NOT benign. That ICK not only takes up space, it also gives the unjudgemental brain information to spin and whirl and "think" about. I feel a little sick to my stomach when I wake up trying to remember what important dream I was just having and realizing that it involved the latest Project Runway winner.  I'm out if the habit of reading right now as I had trouble with it during chemotherapy. I would get a headache... no excuse any more... But I also need to forgive myself for just being a couch potato when I don't feel well.

I've also been feeling very stagnant artistically right now and have been feeling a little blue (or more like a feather gray). I can't set a writing routine and I'm anxious. I'm in a new script and trying to do a rewrite... only I don't seem to be doing any actually writing.

I am feeling much better tonight. Perhaps the unofficial "State of the Union" that Obama gave, helped (he rocks).

The nurse gave me a scare about a swollen lymph node which prompted calls to my oncologist. We're 99% sure it's nothing (both the nurse and Tom and I), but we panic these days. I see one of my oncologists next week anyway, but we don't wait and wonder anymore, we act and move. So we did. I hope I can sleep through the night.

On second thought, maybe I do want Tyra Banks in my dreams tonight!

Bliss Out

Cole had a bliss day. First, he was allowed to wear his pajamas to school (Pajama Day). He was like a teenage girl getting ready for his first date. He went through many possible pajama outfits (the ones he had on were naturally not THE ones to wear). He held them up to his body, cried for the ones that weren't clean and finally found the essential Aquaman ones that actually have orange and yellow dinasaurs on them. Go figure. 

When he arrived at school in his perfect pajamas, he found out that his class was making pancakes and waffles. Score! Cole is the pancake king. I noted that it smelled good and I wanted a pancake. "No" said his classmate. The pancakes were only for kids. Cole looked at her and then me and said, "She can have a little bit." I was grateful but left before the pancakes were done.

When he got home, his Grandma and cousin and friends were here for his first day of Lollipop - a drama class that his grandma created for her grandkids. George has had months of his own Lollipop and Cole never got to go. Now he has his very own class in which he made it clear that he is NOT a prince (Grandma gave out crowns to the princes and princesses), he was a knight. With his PINK Kitty Cat, Mr. Pickles (no idea), next to him with a mat of his own, Cole declared that his favorite color was BLACK.

Grandma then gave him the biggest lollipop he had ever seen, and Mom actually let him have some of it. It was so big that not even Cole could finish it.

He lay in bed after all the lights were off and sang and sang and sang. He sang his made-up rock songs (there's one he's been singing for more than a year now - words undistinguishable; pitch perfect) and French songs from school (the one George didn't know) and probably some new Lollipop songs. I should have gone up and told him to be quiet (his rock'n'roll is LOUD) and he was going to keep Goerge awake and wake up Adeline... but he was so completely and totally happy, we couldn't do it. He sang himself to sleep...

Lady Adeline

Adeline comes into our bed every night. It started while I was doing chemo, and we felt that I could at least spend time with her at night. Having her next to us was such a comfort (except when she stuck her foot in my face). 

Tom gets her in the night from her bed when she cries out, "Mommy Daddy bed." He says he can't remember doing it anymore. He just wakes up with her next to him. When she gets in bed, she immediately throws her arm around my neck and pulls herself as close as possible. Ahhh. It's her default position and she returns to it throughout the night.

Last night, she cried out, "No! No!" in her dream. She was likely protesting a kitty cat that Cole grabbed from her hands (he does believe that all kitty cats belong to him because he loves them so much). A moment later she began to laugh in her sleep. She and Cole get over their squabbles quickly and, I imagine in her dream, were running around the dining room table laughing together. 

Seeing her laugh in her sleep was so beautiful. People, especially babies, are so incredibly vulnerable in their sleep. She laughs and doesn't know that anyone is watching. She's just happy. Happy. Happy. I looked over at her daddy. He was "pa pa pa" ing sweetly next to his baby girl. Love. Love. Love.

At 6:45 this morning, I was coming out of the bathroom and returning to bed when I heard Adeline telling her daddy, "Mommy coming. Mommy coming." She was sitting up straight in our bed (with that perfect posture that only a 20 month has). "Morning Daddy. Morning Mommy." She is always so polite in the morning. Little Lady Adeline - 'Lady Love' as I call her. Cole came shuffling in demanding a snuggle. "Morning Cole. Morning Cole." She watched Cole closely as he found his optimum snuggle position. "Cole." Adeline told me. "Yes." "Cole." she said again excitedly. She is a big Cole fan these days. And then she pulled his hair. (It's so curly and soft it's hard to resist).

Dogs out!

I love my babies. Oh me oh my!  We realized yesterday that Cole really needed some one on one. I can't pinpoint exactly why, but both Tom and I felt it. Cole and I did errands today... groceries, diapers, dry cleaning... you get the picture... He was so happy. He wanted to go to more stores, do more errands... He was so happy talking to me, helping me, dancing with me... Cole is the middle child. He plays with George or Adeline and is never alone. In some ways, Cole needs to be alone with me or Tom more than anyone else. After today, I know that I need to make this happen every week. Cole needs it. He craves it. His unique visual way demands attention. And now Tom and I are prepared to make it happen. 

George helped Tom for hours and hours today. They carried dirt in buckets up many stairs to our new garden. George worked SO hard never resting. 

Tonight Tom and I started our new music evening with the kids.  The plan is that we play beautiful classical music after dinner, one movement only, all kinds, and listen as a family.  We started with a Bach organ piece.  The whole family lay on the floor in the dark and I pointed the flashlight at the ceiling: a hazy white orb with another ring of light around it.  I wiggled it to the music.  The children stared and listened.  It all seemed to be leading somewhere quite moving until Adeline stood up all of a sudden and started shouting: "Ooh let the dogs out? Ooh? Ooh?" Oh Adeline. Ooh. Ooh. Too cute. 

Pink Kitty Cat Boots

It is winter break for the boys this week. I must admit that lounging around in our  pajamas all day was fun (and not just for Cole). When we finally ventured out, it was to The Pub for dinner to meet the Tennants (Tom’s sister Rebecca, her husband Jean-Paul, and their four children). 

I put on Adeline’s kitty cat rain boots. Cole protested. He likes to wear Adeline’s pink kitty cat boots, but frankly, they are way too small for Cole (which doesn’t stop him from “borrowing” them from her). AND I didn’t feel like running back upstairs to get her different shoes. Cole pitched a big ol' fit. I mean the boy LOVES kitty cats. He also does not like to be told he can’t have something. Does anyone? I tried to negotiate by offering several other pairs of boots and shoes. “No! No! Kitty boots.” “You have a choice, Cole, the ladybug boots, the giraffe boots or the superhero boots.” “They are not superhero boots. They are not boots.” “They’re kind of boots.They go above the ankle… ankle boots.” “THEY ARE NOT BOOTS.” It’s true that ankle boots don’t seem very superheroish. “Which boots, Cole?” “Kitty boots,” cried Cole. I repeated. “You have a choice. Choose one of these pair of boots or we don’t go to the pub and see your cousins. Do you want to go to the pub?” “Yes.” 

He surveyed all of the options and suddenly lit up with a huge smile. “I want these kitty boots.” He picked up the ladybug boots and began to put them on. “These are my kitty boots.” I was watching curiously and closely. What did this mean? He looked up at me and said, “I am going to pretend that these are my kitty boots.” “Great,” I said. “They are very lovely kitty boots.” He grabbed my hand as we walked to the car, “I love my kitty boots.” I didn’t know whether to feel happy that he was happy or feel extremely sad that I didn’t give him the kitty boots which obviously meant so much to him. Did they mean that much? 

Tom was delighted when I told him about the episode. Tom feels that the ability to turn something around that way and make it good will serve Cole well in life. Will it? I hope so. But I can’t help but think that I missed something in my exchange with Cole. Would I do anything differently? Not really. My intention was good, and I feel that Cole wants boundaries drawn. If he knows where the boundaries are, he can jump and not worry about where the ceiling is. He just wishes he could do that jumping in his sister's size 7 pink and purple kitty cat boots. Is that so much to ask?

Remembering the sweetness

I am limping along with this annoying and painful wound. I have a level of irritability all the time. Bah humbug. I can't get much work done because these pain pills (which I need) are making me looooooopy. 

I have to remember the sweetness around me at times like this. Tom brought me lunch and tucked me in. The happy flowers from Marie Clyde bring beauty in my cranky hours... and do you know she has come to visit me every time I've been in the hospital? That really means a lot (I mean, it's just not fun to go to the hospital). And I just got a perfectly-timed Dale Peterson card. How does she know when I need one? Sweet George brought me a red flower from the garden this afternoon. Mom indulged a chocolate craving with some delicious profiteroles the day she left. Don and Anne left their yummy chocolate after movie night. George and Sheri call from Hawaii almost every day. Judith and Vera called to see if they could help.  Adeline brought me a whole package of tea (she knows I love my tea) and Cole granted (and even requested) a snuggle.

Ah. I feel better already. 

I am also thankful for the Adeline/George dance/song number. George sang "Singing in the Rain" while riding Cole's Batmobile while Adeline danced with Jelly Cat (who is a bunny). They were very cute (very, very). She did stop dancing abruptly when she realized it wasn't Rock'n'Roll at whcih point she began to scream, "I WAN ROCK N ROLL. ROCK N ROLL. ROCK N ROLL....DADDY... " her voice trailed off as she set off to find Daddy and get her fix.

Popcorn

I was tired this evening after a Valentine Day card making marathon with George and fell asleep on the couch while the boys were occupied with Daddy. This freaked Cole out. He suddenly needed to make sure that I could drag him around the floor by his legs, carry him, change his diaper, etc... poor dude. I wonder if it will always be that way...

When he called out later and I ran up to his room, he stated, "You smell like popcorn." "Yep, it's movie night with Mommy and Daddy's friends." I thought he would demand popcorn, but instead he said, "after nap, are Jack and Layla going to come over and eat popcorn?"  Another memory chord struck. "It sounds like a good time, but you're going to sleep for the night." "And I'll have popcorn after school tomorrow." "Yes." "Mommy?" "Yes." "I want a popcorn story, a popcorn song, a popcorn sleep, and then a popcorn "'Mommy go.'" This is his normal sequence at night (without the popcorn). I did my best. Batman and Robin had a popcorn fiasco and needed Superman and Spiderman to come sit on the popcorn popper to get it to stop. I sang popcorn to Papageno and Papagena's duet (from Mozart's  Magic Flute). I popped up and down while sleeping next to him and I hopped (or popped) from his bed down the hall way. 

Whew. Now I need a sleep not a movie ;-) but my boy is satisfied.

Hang Low

I did not feel well today. I spent all day yesterday working on a production submission and I think I did too much too soon, and I paid to day. Ah well.

Mom left today for New Zealand. It will be hard without her. Hopefully I will be feeling more perky if I hang low for a few days... it's just so darn hard for me to hang low.

Here are some videos from the inauguration. Both are the afternoon before the big event.

Superhero Pajamas

Cole loves pajamas. Not just any pajamas. Certain superhero ones... or ones that are endowed with superhero powers by Cole. Every morning, Cole wakes excited to put on new pajamas (or more accurately, "jammies"). This morning George screamed for us to come look at the huge, beautiful orange moon over the North bay. We all ran in, including Adeline. Everyone except Cole. "Cole! Come see the beautiful moon!" 

The voice from his room: "I'm putting on my beautiful pajamas."

He gets home from school and immediately runs upstairs and puts on a new pair of pajamas. He then takes all of the pajamas out of his drawer and begins to match them. He lays them out on the floor and examines them and then decides to put on a new set of pajamas and then another new set of pajamas and then he calls me to put a costume on over those new pajamas. And then he switches to another costume...

When he gets on a costume he's been dreaming about or thinking about, he does this awesome Cole-style dance. He pulls his fists into his waist and punches the air and swivels his hips. It is pure joy. 

We've been trying to figure out a way to honor this excitement, but haven't come out with it yet. There's something very powerful about those superhero jammies. 

How to meet Shakespeare?

Tonight George described his time machine. "It looks a lot like a clock." The inside of a clock or the outside of a clock, I ask. He stops and thinks, "The inside of the time machine looks a lot like the outside of a clock." Got it. "There is rainbow string that you pull and you pull it as far as you want to to go back as far as you want to go. What time do you want to go back to."

"I want to meet Shakespeare," I say nonchalantly. I know he has a plastic Shakespeare doll that he calls a superhero (with his parent's influence), so he can follow me.

"Oh," he says disappointedly. "If you just want to meet Shakespeare, you just dig a hole...", put a ladder down the hole, peruse the buttons... you'll pass The Beach Boys, Abraham Lincoln, Grandpa David, The Beatles, Bob Dylan (though he's not dead), he mentioned others... and Shakespeare will be there. You push the button and he comes out.

"But I want to see him in his time, so I'd have to go back in time in the time machine, right?" I hoped this would get him excited again.

"Yes!" He grew concerned. "But he won't be there."

"But it's back in time he would be."

"No."

And I saw what was happening. How could Shakespeare be near the button and back in time?  He was trying to reconcile these things.  I feared this would be a long night and I wasn't sure I'd be up to the questions.

"Ah," he said suddenly. "You push the button AND you use the time machine. That way you see him and you go back to his time. You see him in his time."

Brilliant. That is certainly one way to avoid the meta-physical, existential crisis - solve it.