BATMOM

Hypothesis

I spent the whole day dealing with rental postings. Tom and I have decided to launch a project this summer that involves a cross country trip. It's quite exciting and intimidating. Nevertheless, we're renting our place for the summer (let us know if you are or know an interested party) and I'm wading through the whole craigslist posting world again. Weird.

Tom and I ran into an old friend today in SF after an appointment. It'd been so long since I'd seen her that she doesn't even know about the cancer. I opted not to tell her and that felt great. Another friend asked me what my status is now... "Is there any more in there?" "No." I said. What the hell?! If I say it, it might make it so ;-)

Ecole Bilingue has its Marche (fair, games, dunking, etc...) this weekend. It should be fun for the kids. Maybe for us, too. George and I are supposed to handle the Sucre stand for awhile. Uh oh.  Cole's going to translate that one into "Caaaaandy!"

I keep getting myself worked up and stressed out about very little. It seems strange that after getting a cleaner bill of health than I thought, I get very stressed easily. Shouldn't I be revelling in the light? I think maybe it's been pent up and my general mode of operation is to find stupid silly ways of keeping myself stressed... just a hypothesis.

Favorite Things

Last night I went into Cole who was up late and talking.

He asked for a "story, snuggle, underwater, grass and then we go underground." This is a routine that he's set up. After it was done, he was smiling. 

"What are you thinking about," I asked.

"I'm thinking about All Brown Kitty... And I'm thinking about Grandma's house... ice cream and cookies there."

I laughed. "Pretty yummy that ice cream."

"Yeah. I'm thinking about Daddy carrying me."

I caught on that this is a list of favorite things. I like that he thinks of things that make him feel happy and safe as he's falling asleep (or is supposed to be anyway).

I gave him a hug and told him that I love him. I held All Brown Kitty's face in the way that makes Cole laugh. He laughed and then stopped abruptly.

"No, it's like this," and he adjusted the way his hands were on All Brown Kitty's smooshed face. I never do get the nuance of this action and the change to the kitty's face. This time was no different. Cole saw it though and was happy with the correction. He laughed again. I kissed him again and left.

As I was about to close the door, he called out,

"Mommy!"

"Yes, Cole," I was tired. I think I sighed.

"I'm thinking about you and Daddy," he said in the sweetest voice.

I stood in the hallway for a moment looking into his dark room. He was quiet.

I felt as if he sent me off to my bed feeling happy and safe... I'm one of his favorite things... that's pretty darn cool.

Never Too Much Garlic

My "little" cousin John and his wife Becca came to visit this afternoon. It was not the normal chaos at Casa Clyde when they arrived... It was complete chaos. Two Pink Feathers had shown up at Lollipop. (I feel as if I should be able to link to Wikipedia so as to explain Pink Feather and Lollipop, but I will have to leave it at that right now). Children were on tables. Adeline was feverish, screaming for Dragontales, and falling down stairs. There was no room out back for another car. Whose cars were these anyway? I had almost run out of gas on the way home from school with 4 boys and loud Elvis (whom I could hardly hear...okay that part was fun). That kind of afternoon. So you can kind of understand that I was not paying much attention to what I was cooking. John and Becca were going to have a quick dinner on their way out of town.

Tom had grabbed some CheeseBoard pizzas (whew a wikipedia link... that felt good) and at the last minute and I made some bruschetta during Lollipop with Amy's help. I threw some garlic at her and told her to peel it, which, being an obedient sous chef, she did. Actually I think I told her to whack it. With a knife. Which she did. I threw in the basil. The tomatoes. The salt. Amy was at the computer so I asked her to look up the bread. Did I put on oil? 

I have made many different kinds of bruschettas many different ways, I informed her, and I've never used a recipe. I lived in Italy. I traveled to every crevice of that country. I know the differences between bruschetta in Trapani and the kind in Siena (which is actually a lie... it's the tiramisu I know) blah, blah, blah. But I never got the bread just right.

She looked at the recipe and then up at me putting the garlic in. "How much garlic did you put in?" "I don't know." "This says 2 or 3 cloves." I think I gave her most of a head. I'm used to making large quantities for parties. "Oh well," I said. And I thought to myself, "there is never too much garlic." And proceeded to pour more salt on the kale and then jump as I remembered the bread in the oven. 

My taste buds got pretty messed up during the chemo. I'd need a lot of anchovies and garlic to taste that puttanesca. And my current medicine takes half an hour or so for me to taste anything (it all tastes like that really big, faded silver lid to my soup pot). It was great to see John and Becca and hear their news. We sat on the porch and ate bruschetta and pizza and talked. I ate a lot of bruschetta.''

As I cleaned up the dinner plates, I had another piece of bruschetta and shouted, "Holy Cow!" "What?" asked George. There was so much garlic that my mouth vibrated. I then tried the kale that I'd forgotten to finish in the madness. Wow. The salt made the dead sea look wussy. 

At least the company was good!

Big Girl

We set up Adeline's big girl bed today. We were excited to show her the rabbits in the bed frame, but she was convinced that we were trying to make her nap. She "helped" daddy set it up and bounced on the bed with us. She stood so tall next to it. And either Tom or I said, "Look honey, she's our baby." 

I remember when she was first put next to me in the hospital. She meowed quietly when she came out... little did we know this little lady was anything but quiet (except during tantrums). And here she was moving into a big girl bed. I felt it was too early. Tom wanted a bed for her. I got the bed (found it on Craig's List). I assumed we would wait, but then we'd have to store it and unstore it. So we put the bed up. We didn't have sheets or a comforter or even extra blankets that fit the bed (currently all twin items are being used by the boys). I wanted to be prepared and have a plan and slowly move into the big girl bed phase. 

Like all things in parenting, there is no real preparation. It just happens and you must adjust. I didn't think she would actually want to go in the bed tonight or if she did, I knew she wouldn't really fall asleep, but she did. She's in there with a mountain of stuffed animals surrounding her (she insisted) and is happily, sweetly, easily asleep.

Hmm. 

When Tom called down to me that he had put the bed together, she told me to "Come see, Mommy." I opened the door to her room and there she stood, my big girl, my baby, my last child. It threw me. I was done being a mother to babies. Don't get me wrong... that brings relief in some ways... but oh what a beautiful, beautiful time it has been. Soon I won't be able to carry her in the pack anymore or on my hip (that time is close as my body is tired) and she won't throw herself into my arms when she gets an ouchy (though the boys still do) and she won't be so excited by a half a croissant and some agua from a real glass.

The words that Tom spoke soon after our good news this week came to me: "We don't have to worry about you seeing her graduate from high school." Growing up is good and natural and also beautiful. I want to see her grow.

I think right now of Lilo and Francis with their new baby Gabriel. I want to say, "Enjoy!" but as you survive it, you do. I think of our nanny Lucia, who is having to make tough decisions about her mother's health and future. Life cycles. Cancer has helped me better accept those cycles.

Still... the outstretched chubby arms insisting "I carry you"... I'm going to miss those.

Getting on with it!

Wow! Thank you for all of the messages and emails and comments. It meant a lot to have you all there. Tom and I had a lovely late lunch yesterday after the news and that was celebration enough. We both came home and got to work on our projects. We suddenly had lots of energy to go forward. We're just ready to get on with it all!

I had promised a video of George's performance, but unfortunately the file is too large. Now I am trying to cut it down and post it. It will come soon. Until then, here are some photos from one of Andrew Jackon's alleged birthplaces. This one was in North Carolina.

A good day... a really, really good day

What I am about to write does not seem possible. The liver surgeon told me that "It does not look like cancer." None of the spots has grown in the past 2 months. They also lit up less on the PET/CT. The pelvic one probably lit up less because I went on anti-biotics for my pouchitis 10 days prior to the scan and thus the problem was probably the pouchitis. The liver ones... they have no idea. They don't know what the spots are/were/whatever. They thought they were cancer that stayed small during chemotherapy and began to grow after the chemo ended... but cancer grows and this has not since early March....

We thought we were going in to find out when liver surgery would be. The fear was if I had to have chemo, how much, what were the questions surrounding surgery. There's always fear that there is more cancer. 

But to be told there might not even be cancer... We're just... happy...

So I'm back to the same old regime. Another scan in 4 months. Blood tests. The liver surgeon's assistant warned us, "Well, we don't say you're cancer-free until it's been 5 years." What she didn't get was that I'm NOT having liver surgery. I am NOT having chemotherapy. We've been living in the crazy fear world already. I know we have plenty of fear down the road and possibility of a recurrence, but I don't have that now. Even if those spots are cancer... they're not growing. We've won this round. And if we win this round, we may well win the championship. In fact, we're planning on it.

I should have known it was going to be a good day. It started out with a show at George and Cole's school. And they were so excited and so beautiful and perfect... Adeline sat on Tom's lap behind me. We didn't talk about the appointment to come, but occasionally he'd just lay his strong hand on my shoulder or neck. With his love and strength I feel that I can get thorough anything.

Here's the first video. This one is of Cole. He's in the blue shirt and green pants in the second row. He's the intense one that informs the boy who started "running" too early, to stop. He's the one who screams out, "Mommy" and points. Can I just say (well, I shall anyway!), that seeing your little boy suddenly find you in the crowd and explode with happiness and love is pretty much as good as it gets. And then being told that the cancer is probably gone... Let's just say it's been a good day!

The video of George is still uploading and will be on tomorrow's blog.

Setting Up Our Tennant

We had a fun time in Mendocino this weekend. Though we didn't see a bear run across the road in front of us this time. That was a year and a half ago, and George reminded Tom not to roll down his window if we did see one again. 

"Why not?" asked Tom.

 

"Because Mommy will get mad."

Tom had been so excited to show the boys a bear that he rolled down the window, yelled and pointed. My reaction must have had a lasting impression on George.

We were up there for Jacob's birthday. HIs wife Kim is 30 weeks pregnant with twins, but still managed to serve a luncheon for 40. We sat out in an oak grove near the barn and toasted Jacob with the aquavit that he insisted we drink. It is a tradition to have a shot between every course of the 8 course meal. Fortunately I had to run over and attend the kids a number of times that the courses were changing!

There were 16 kids in all. It's pretty funny to watch the singles scene you once had turn into a parent scene. Many of the people in this particular group of friends married each other, so we've known them over many years. Parties that used to go on all night with dancing and singing... now suddenly lose over half of their revelers by 9PM. 

Tom did the night shift as did our friend Yann. They stayed back at the tents with the boys. Adeline slept in the crib in the barn. I forced Yann's wife Amy to stay up with me. I think Kim and Jacob held on because we did. Finally Amy begged me.... "Please can I go to sleep now?" "Yes," I granted, secretly relieved that our partying effort could end. 

Cole again sported his seersucker cowboy/superhero suit; George his cowboy boots, hat and shirt. Adeline was a cowgirl with Cole's old cowboy boots. I wish I could put up pictures, but my camera broke.

Adeline still wants to go back to "the Tennants." The Tennants are our family who live down the street. All weekend, whenever she got near the tent she would say, "Yay, I go in Tennants' house!" It took us awhile to realize that the Tennants are now mixed up with our tent in her mind.  She must have wondered where they were all hiding in that little space.  There are lots of pockets on the walls though...

Aflutter

We are headed to Mendocino tomorrow. We'll be camping with many friends up at Christfort Ranch for Jacob's birthday/Danish feast. We're all aflutter here trying to get ready. The boys tried on their cowboy outfits... Cole's boots didn't fit anymore, but Adeline is happily wearing them. George always looks for a specific cowboy shirt that was once his cousin David's and before that his daddy's. Before he puts it on, he always reminds me that "sometimes cowboys wear no shirts." He usually has superhero underwear poking out from his jeans as he tells me this.

Cole chose the pinstriped, seersucker suit. He has decided that it is a superhero costume and that a cowboy is a superhero. He strutted around shirtless with the jacket and pants. He looked handsome and he told me so. 

Cole and George also helped me pack. George took everything out of the bag to try on. Cole put everything in the bag. We were upwards of 10 pairs of pajamas when I had to gently tell him I thought we were set.

We also have the CT/PET tomorrow. I carefully thought through my non-zipper items so that I don't have to change into the hospital gown. I'm super scared (thus the fluttering and tension today), but we won't have any results until next Wednesday. 

Too many people I know and care about have gone through these scans this week. I wish you all peace and love.

Boots

We saw "Wendy and Lucy" at Think Visual tonight. Wendy never makes it to Alaska (at least not by the time the movie ends), but it got me thinking about Alaska... and all those stories Beth and I have. I was working on a screenplay depicting those days, but put it away for a spell. The stories needed to stew in the pot (the noggin'). And maybe it was because I knew we were watching the movie tonight or maybe it was just the boots, but when I went to sell some of my old, cool clothes at Cross Roads the stories started to surface again.

Firstly, I found out how not cool my once cool clothes are now. Secondly, the young women who buy the clothes now are still as haughty and unfriendly (and type A) as they were ten years ago. They never look you in the eye. They don't want to like you so as not to disappoint. Thirdly, I was planning on taking the cash for the first time (you get 30% in cash or 50% in store credit), but the amount was so pathetic, it seemed pathetic to take it. I got some jeans. Fourthly, you know you're old when you factor in gas and the environmental damage caused by car, parking fee, time wasted, and plastic bag costs (I broke 2). Ten years ago, I would have bummed a ride, bought the jeans (though probably cooler ones) and then bought $50 worth of clothes on credit with the $20 I had in the bank. Some one I was meeting would probably buy me a coffee or a beer.

Anyhoo, the point was...is... that as I was looking around the store, I found many pairs of boots that Beth would have bought (as she did in many states across the country). They varied in size as hers always did ("Wow. These kinda fit."), but they were all the motorcycle variety that she was drawn to. I thought about buying a pair just for the heck of it and taking them to her. But I didn't have enough credit (maybe next time when I have actually sold some cool clothes).  And they're not the best for strolling with a stroller or Gymboree mat class. She's a mom now and in SF and we hardly see each other which seems unfathomably as I lived with Beth possibly longer than anyone other than Tom (and certainly in more states). When we do get together, there are no more rooster shots or duck farts (Alaska shot speciality). It's more along the line of breast pump talk and husband bashing (sorry, honey).

Maybe I should go back and get those boots. It'd be nice to try them on for size once in awhile.

Getting To Be A Man

Yesterday I was awarded San Francisco Bay Area CityMommy Mother of the Year award. I was nominated by my honey. And I am truly honored. I mean with my bad humor and stress lately, I am shocked that he still thinks I'm super... We go to an awards luncheon next week. Fun!

Cole has been a little sick for the last few days and as a result is perhaps a little more fragile. He needs snuggles and hugs and to be carried (and not just when Adeline is being carried). He talks a lot about ..."getting to be a man." At night, he likes us to jump under the covers and pretend to be in the ocean. He screams "a shark is coming!" 

The first time he did this I mistakingly said, "Oh no, Batman..." (he was wearing a Batman costume) "a shark... protect me, Batman!" 

Cole broke character. "No! No! Mommy! You are supposed to protect me!" 

"Oh... sorry..." Batman, Cole... I never know...

"Stay away shark! You stay away from my Cole. Back off."

"No! No! Mommy. I am not Cole."

"Sorry. Stay away from my...Batman."

I look to him for confirmation. No reply. I assume I'm doing okay.

"I'm your boy, Batman." he says after reflecting upon it.

Gotcha.

"You stay away from Batman who is my boy!" (I look to Cole for assurance.) "Go shark!"

"No. Now we're in the grass, Mommy."

"Oh. Stay away tiger. Get away with your gnarly teeth."

"The tiger is nice."

"Oh. Sleep near tiger. Stay away lion."

"A lion is a kitty."

"So it's nice?"

"Yeah."

"Stay away snake!"

"Yeah, you stay away snake."

Phew.

I was so relieved that I came up from under the covers (besides I was hot). 

"Mommy!!!!! You have to hug me. The snake is there."

Oops. Fed up, he asks me to tell a story and then snuggle. The stories have to have a few essential elements: Cole, All Brown Kitty, Mr. Pickle and Big Toe (favorite stuffed animals), food (usually popsicles), and a very, very, very happy ending. And he lets me know if I have told the made-up story inaccurately. He adds his own spin to things and then almost always adds an extra cupcake. I mean, why not?