BATMOM

Home!

We made it home on Monday night and were very glad to be here!

The kids did dances in every room. Cole went immediately to put on costumes. George went to greet his guys (stuffed animals that had been left behind). Adeline just kept dancing. I think she had almost forgotten home and was now remembering!

Sheri had filled our fridge and made us dinner. What a treat! I felt like dancing, too!

We spent our last night outside of Noodles Arizona. Really.

The drive back was pretty easy... As far as 12 hour drives go. The kids did a great job of entertaining themselves and cracking each other up.

Tom and I were both a little suprised to feel depressed as we turned our supermobile westward. East was away from cancer. West was back to it.

No more fantasyland. Chemo was scheduled for today. Only it wasn't. There was a snaffu and I have it tomorrow. I'm not prepared and feeling shakey. I plan to spend tomorrow morning doing some grounding and prep.

Yesterday, on the way back from karate, George told me that he thought we might be the luckiest family on Earth.

" Why?" I asked, thinking he really doesn't understand my health issues.

"Because we're not homeless, we have everything we need, and we love each other a lot."

...and even if he did understand the medical issues, he would be right. It'd good to be reminded.

Santa Fe 2

We began day two with a visit from the hotel's security. George and Cole jumped wildly from bed to bed, screaming. We tried to shhh them, but made as much noise as they did in the process. Rooms on both sides complained. Oops. We had promised the kids a ride on the vintage Santa Fe train and as the weather report again promised rain, we thought this was the day to do it. Before the train's departure, we visited the children's museum. There was nothing particularly New Mexican about it, but we knew the kids would love it. Here no one would try to quiet them or reign them in. George was nervous that the train would not return to Santa Fe, so we checked with several people, several times. Adeline was afraid we'd miss the train and ran off without me, down the street, to board it. George ran down the cabin excitedly yelling to his siblings that the train was leaving when an old curmudgeon of a man very rudely told him to be quiet. "I'm sorry," I said. "He's very excited." "I don't care. I paid the same price as you did for my ticket." "He's just a boy who loves trains." I didn't know what he meant exactly by the ticket price. "I can survey all the guests in this train and how much they appreciate your kids." I was stunned. The older woman seated by him (presumably his wife) looked away and avoided eye contact with me. The younger woman smiled helplessly. "We've all had kids, but you could't hear mine from the front seat to the backseat." he claimed. "Yours must be the only ones." I said quietly and after glancing again at his poor wife whose eyes were still fixed on the still stationary station out of the window, returned to the safety of my nice husband and awesome father. I wanted to say... "and I'm sure they are very healthy members of soceity now," or as Tom suggested, "I imagine you are not helping them pay for their psychatrist bills." One lady a seat over scolded him. At Lamy (the only stop and was true to its name... Lame-y), we had lunch by the train tracks. Many people came over to tell me how sweet and well-behaved our kids were and how rude the man was. (Thank goodness none of them was a neighbor at La Fonda hotel!)
The train ride was a dull 4 hour excursion for an adult, but the kids were happy. There was again no rain, and Tom and I regretted not making it to the Taos Pueblo. Ah well.
The boys and I visited the pool while Adeline napped and Tom supervised. We also got cowboy/girl costumes courtesy of Babu. We chose the Cowgirl BBQ for dinner and the kids were in heaven. All the staff wore cowboy hats! As we returned to our hotel after dinner, a band was playing. Our two cowboys began to dance up a storm. The crowd turned from the band to the boys, clapping and taking photos. Cole smiled and grooved. George spun and showed his fancy foot work.We had to drag them off to bed.  

Day 3: We visited Taos Pueblo. We were too close to miss it. Cole puked his Cowgirl dinner all over himself as we arrived. We were far from the hotel from which we'd checked out. What do we do? The road was wind-y, and he claimed to feel okay. We went in... deciding that I would come back with him if he felt badly again. The first thing I saw was a white pickup truck with a horse on either side of it. I did a double take and grabbed my camera just in time.  

A young Pueblo Indian in his 20s lead us on a brief tour. He was very interesting in his brandname jeans, hip sweatshirt, and tribal turqoise wide-holed earrings. He was respectful of his elders and the sacred dwellings, but admitted that most of the youth lived outside the pueblo for the convenience of running water and electricity. The pueblo contains the oldest known dwellings in the USA that are still lived in. It dates back before the settlers even came to find the country (between 1000-1400 AD). The Spanish found the "Indians" there in the 1600s. Many of the buildings we saw were original.

 




 

The pueblo is situated at the base of the snow-covered Taos mountains and the red willow (another name for the tribe Red Willow people) runs along the river bank. 

 

The language the tribe speaks is Tiwa, and it is forbidden to record it. It is not a written language. The guests had their cameras tagged. We were to ask permission before taking a person's photograph. Signs in the stores said, "no photography." I didn't take any shots of people. It didn't seem appropriate.

   

 

A high energy, slightly nutty woman from the tribe kept interupting the tour and talking to our guide in Tiwa and English. He handled it gracefully. The woman was quite sweet and hugged Adeline and Adeline's pink frog. I thought Adeline would shun her, but instead allowed herself to be hugged and smiled. Tom took Cole and Adeline to the bathroom and back to the car while George and I took one last look around. It is a remarkable place, and it sounds silly to say. There is so much history and so many things we are not privy to know (sacred rituals and places). I felt like the tourist and foreigner that I was.

Santa Fe

We visited the childhood home of George W Bush in Midland, TX on the 14th. One of the nine houses that the Bush family lived in the Midland area has been turned into a museum. 

   

 

 

The guide was thorough and patient (though slightly nervous with the Clyde kid dancing on newly finished wood floors, as well as the Obama sticker on our Supermobile). Most of the items were replicas of items once owned by the Bush family. The aqua blue Frigidare (very cool) was a donation from Laura Bush's mother who unplugged it from her own kitchen to donate. As we left, the guide handed me a glossy pamphlet on the Petroleum Museum and all its wonders. "The boys will love it. There's a race car." "She's the one that's into race cars," I said pointing to Adeline who was dressed head-to-toe in pink. We drove on and stopped in Roswell, New Mexico to look for UFOs. The Alien Cafe in District 51 stayed open while we toured and took goofy photographs. 

 

 

 

 

 
  

 We found a local, active park with play equipment and a series of baseball games going. I cooked dinner on our camp stove while the kids used up all their human energy and then some. We drove into the night and arrived in Santa Fe before midnight. Santa Fe was a welcome break. We loved our hotel and comfy beds. We loved the adobe setting and the wandering cowboys. We really loved the breakfast staff who delighted in our rambunctious kids and brought them picture after picture to color, pancakes with ears, and performed goofy dances for their enjoyment. Day One: we walked around the town and absorbed the flavor. We found a labyrinth, an Indian street market, a store with animal statues (from which I had to take Adeline kicking and screaming. The purple and black snake was cool. It was also $400).

 

The forecast had more than suggested rain. Afraid that it might rain the following day, we drove to Bandalier National Park outside of Santa Fe. What a good decision! The mile plus walk led to beautiful cliff dwellings. 

 

 
 

The boys were ahead of us, but Adeline perservered and we completed the walk. She has always been a little afraid of heights and half way up the first ladder to the first accessible cliff dwelling, she panicked. I urged her on and put my hands on the rungs above her and told her to place her hands on mine. It worked. We made it up! And she was very, very proud. We high-fived a few times. She found one cave with "beds" for all of us. She climbed into her bed...hole... And said she was going to sleep there. It was naptime after all! 

 

 
 

 

 

 
 
 
 

By the time I convinced her to leave, a long line of people had formed to visit our cave. A man overhearing our negotiations said to his wife, "I truly don't know who is going to win this one." thanks, mister. When we rejoined the boys, the kids were high, telling each other what they had each seen. Adeline was proud to tell her brothers that she had climbed, too. I know that this was a huge day for her and some part of her would always remember this place.  

Bush Country

It's dark in the car with the exception of my iPhone, the dashboard and the occasional flare of a not-to-distant, but suprisingly contained lightening storm. The kids are all asleep with content, stress-free, beautiful faces. Adeline was the last to fall, grumbling and questioning until I finally undid my seatbelt and put my face against hers. She put her arms around my neck (as she does every night) and pulled me forcefully into her. My legs buckled and I fell into her. When I hold up my iPhone to spy on her now, she, too, looks peaceful so the hug must have done the trick. We are within 2 hours of Santa Fe, where we plan to spend 3 nights. Our gut (don't 2 guts become one after marriage and that's why they are called love handles?) tells us that the kids need to not move for a few days. That being said, the kids are being great and having a blast. George does not want to miss one piece of information about the presidents. I think Cole likes sitting right behind us, working on his letters and words and getting our help and approval. Adeline jokes and plays with her brothers... And is competitive as well. She knows the deal (even when you think she mustn't), keeps score, and likes to win. This summer she was a little young to really be a part of the gang, but now she is fully. And while enjoying her (she's a lot of fun), the boys are trying to work out how to deal with her. We spent two nights ago in College Station, TX just off George Bush Drive. In the morning, we gobbled up our breakfast quickly as Fox News was looming over us on a big screen. Gleeful gals with lip gloss gave the rising unemployment numbers. It's not a news station, and I don't think the folks at breakfast knew that. I don't enjoy propaganda with my pancakes. The George HW Bush Library was a pretty nice one. It had tons of videos and limos and airplanes. It had a White House replica in playhouse size that Adeline said was a frog house and once inside with her frogs, refused to leave.  

   

 

Full

The rest of our Disney trip was great. The boys and I headed out early to hit the Abominable Snowman ride before the crowds... Cole was fixated on doing this ride. The early rise and muffins on the run worked! They loved it.

Quickly, we rushed to many of the scary rides that we knew Adeline couldn't do. We did The haunted house in which George asked me in a whisper if it was a long ride. We went on Splash Mountain despite George's trepidation at seeing the final, crazy, wet descent. He said he wouldn't go, but wait, would, but, yes, if Babu (my mom had joined us by now) could so could he. Again he mastered his fear and prepared himself. Cole sat in the first seat he was allowed to sit on which, due to size, ended up being he second with no on in front of him. I couldn't see his face and asked him at the end if he was okay. He leaned back in our log, refusing to get out, and said with a lazy smile, "That was good." The only way we got him out was to promise to do it again. George was more than willing to do it again.

Mom took Adeline on the more gentle rides while Tom and I introduced the boys to Space Mountain and Star Tours. They wanted to ride Space Mountain again and again until Tom was feeling sick.

After our It's A Small World ride, a street dance parade kicked off in front of us. The boys went wild dancing. Even Adeline who was falling asleep on Tom allowed herself to be dragged into the street madness.

We took the poor girl for a nap and let the boys rest too (for five minutes). Then Tom took them to the pirate pool that we could see from our window.

Our friend George Shuput met us for dinner. "Hooray George" the chant began from the kids. George sends them awesome Christmas presents every year and brings treats when they see him. This time was no exception. They love George!

The kids (and Tom) steered coin-operated boats on a pond while we waited for a dinner table. We then rushed to catch the fireworks over the castle before. Our early-to-bed kids lost it. Okay so the fireworks and music and stories were amazing. I tried not to think about the insane amount of money being wasted or pollution being made (no wonder LA is so smoggy!). Adeline said it was too loud but the rest of us were impressed.

We headed for Phoenix midday the following day and finally found a free roadside hotel with one last, crappy room. Fights broke out in the hallway and drunk men got more drunk, but we slept and moved on.

Yesterday we had breakfast at Marriott's Derset Ridge Resort and Spa. My friend Clotilde was the landscape architect for the project. I had heard much about it when it happened and wanted to see it.

As I suspected it was beautifully done. A zen walk of rocks that my children naturally gravitated towards. A natural stream through he property. A pool river for rafts. Pools shaded by those infamous palms (that had to be planted in their maturity which were difficult to come by). Rock walls and ponds and local vegetation... Stunning. The food was good too!

Last night we camped in Aguirre Springs Bational Park, NM. It was a bit out of our way but upon arrival we were glad to make the effort and forego the KOA. The setting, a canyon with snow peaked rock mountains and distant white sands, was spectacular. We chose a campsite that required a walk up hill from the car, but that too was nice and removed us from other campers (except the really loud ones who we could not see but know too much about).

I cooked up an impromptu meal on the stove (we had no drinking water and had to make a random risotto with broth and wine) and happy kids giggled over goofy stories about Tootnem Shootnem and his famous rattlesnake chili.

We explored the area in the morning.Cole moved our camping chairs to a viewing point he liked and invited his brother and sister to join him there with their cereal. Tom had to relocate the chairs with Cole's supervision when Cole's chair collapsed onto George's!

On our way out, we were forced to stop by two bulls in the road. I snapped some photos out of the open window when Tom realized they were bloody. They then locked horns and went at it in the road. We were unable to get around them.

We've seen lighting and a relatively small tornado ripping through the dirt in the distance. It's been a full trip and we have't even seen a President's childhood home!

Tomorrow we see Lyndon B. Johnson's home in Stonewall, TX. Tonight we sleep in Ozona.

Jedi Training

We arrived in Disneyland way ahead of schedule. Tom enjoys overestimating, and I enjoy (or am addicted to) the other. 

He reveled in our early arrival and celebrated by asking for a cocktail to be ordered for him while he checked in. Mom met us in the lobby (she'd flown... 7 hours with 3 kids in the back seat is, apparently, not her idea of a good time!). She took the kids to story time and songs by the giant fireplace in the hotel lobby while I got my man his cocktail... he's not much of a drinker and he'd driven most of the way, so I honored his request right away (and got myself some champagne. Why not?). The kids had been amazing in the car, but still, the drive was long.

Fortunately I'd had half of my glass when I found out we were going to have to move from our hotel. The hotel we were in is steps from the front gate (no monorail, no fuss, easy for nap schedules and burnt out parents and kids) and now we were moving down the street (a crisis for parents of young children with a well thought out plan of action, which any time in Disneyland requires). There was an error made in our reservation and the hotel was beyond capacity. Anyone arriving late (but we weren't as late as we would have been!), was escorted to another hotel. 

Armed with an upgrade to a suite, some perks, buzzed bodies, my handicapped scooter,  very tired children, and all of their stuffed animals, we made our way to Disneyland Resort and away from the Grand Californian. Frankly, the hotel is definitely less posh (no arts and craft, lodge-style decor and large fireplaces), but our huge suite ROCKED! We tried to get the kids to go to bed, but from our balconies was an amazing view of the fireworks. Really, it was the perfect ending to the day and set the tone as a finale before sleep.

We woke up too late for the early entry to the park, but had our breakfast spread (La Farine and yoghurt) in our suite kitchen and made our way to Disneyland's BART (the monorail). The scooter gets us into things pretty quickly and the monorail was no exception. My energy is returning, but no scooter would have made the trip very hard for me (and therefore Tom, Mom, and the kids). 

 

The park was as crowded as I've ever seen it. Spring Break. But the kids were in heaven and didn't mind the waiting too much. In fact, George, remembering the Jedi training from last time, was determined to be picked for the training. It was 80 degrees with no shade, but we waited with him. He was on the first row in the middle because we'd arrived an hour early. Tom had to redirect Cole and Adeline to the rockets, but Babu and stayed with George. 32 kids were chosen but not George. He was sad, bummed, upset for about 2 minutes and then said, "When's the next training?" 

"In a little over an hour," I replied. 

"Okay." he said and turned back to the stage to watch the training and study the techniques so he would be prepared. I applied more sunscreen. George did not take his eyes from the training once to my knowledge.

In the time between trainings, Tom returned and asked the MCs for tips on getting picked.

"Be loud." We were.

"Be on the front row." We were.

"Get a sign." 

Tom took the little ones to get lunch for everyone while Babu and I set about making a sign. She went for markers, which she found in a Tinkerbell sticker packet. She also got light sabers for both boys to help the cause.

While George practiced engaging his light saber to perfection (The dude works!), I wrote on a lunch bag "THE FORCE IS STRONG WITH THIS ONE" and taped it to Cole's light saber with a bandaid.

(Check out my new wig!)

 

 I held the light saber above George with arrows pointing down. The other parents, who were rooting for their own kids, were even helping. Several pointed to George and yelled when the master was choosing trainees. One woman said to her son, "This boy is a very hard worker and very devoted, he will go far."

George was chosen third to last, but he was chosen. Hooray! He was a little scared and very serious and I could see him actively overcoming his own fear... especially when he went on stage solo to fight off Darth Vader. He bowed his head and listen to words of encouragement (I assume) from a Jedi apprentice (title please) and then stood up and walked forward with steel resolve. He engaged his light saber, fought the power of the dark side, and mastered his own fear. I must say that I was in awe of the guy. I saw the truly super in my young super hero. 

When he brought back the diploma, I read it to him. He wanted to fill in his name right away (and not be hugged and coddled). He shook as he wrote. He wanted his middle name 'Knight' on the paper and wanted me to spell it. We wrote on the top of the trash can while Tom and Babu watched. I could feel his heart beating wildly when I touched his hand. 

It was a journey of many emotions for George. I saw him growing up in front of me, on a stage, shining. What a human being he is! I am so honored to be his mommy.

Arrival at the training center and before the work begins:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Mastering the fear:
 
  

Fighting Darth Vader:

 

George is the last one on the right (with his hood up).
 
  

Receiving his diploma:
 
 
 The signing of the diploma on the trash can:

 

 

Chinese Opera and other experiments

Today I sang Chinese opera in my own shower. I think it was Chinese opera. I've only seen one and the review said it was too Western, so (if the review was correct) my judgement is probably not the best.

We are home in Berkeley, and I was in my own beloved, art deco green and purple tiled bathroom. I wanted to sing but I was feeling strange and none of the familiar arias would do it for me. I wanted big sound and reverberation, but not sentimentality (which so many of the great western operas live on). I decided to try on tones and tunes for healing power. I was taught to do this with clothes and colors by my friend Mia. Did it feel good? New? What did it make me feel?

No recognizable arias came out. Instead weird combinations and phrases filled the house. I wondered if any of our children would respond as this was music they'd never heard before. I wondered if neighbors might be irritated (the windows were open and I am loud).

Adeline opened the door and stared at me. She was intrigued and skeptical. She shut the door.

We are home now. Home. Home. Home. Home is a place, for me, where it is safe enough to bring the weird experiments and lessons learned for testing. We try on testing of new ways of eating (Comte for breakfast thanks to Amaury and Clotilde) and schedules. The kids try on naughty playground behavior on their family to see what it's all about. Mom sings weird music loudly.

I love home. We are so safe and happy here despite the experiments. The kids are so happy to be back that they have made up a sequence of songs. All of the lyrics are the same, "It's good to be home," with one exception, "It's great to be home."

It was 76 days that we we were away. We went to Amy and Brad's beautiful wedding in Sonoma Valley on June 14. Our kids were wild. Amy and Brad were grounded and glowing... a perfect anchor to our trip. We left on June 16.

We returned on the evening of August 31. The boys' school began the next morning.

George had been nervous about kindergarten. He said he would be too shy. He was scared. He would cry, etc... On the morning I dropped him off, he looked up at me from his kindergarten activity table and asked, "Why am I not shy?" I answered him but he was not listening. He was doing a puzzle with 2 friends. He looked up again and said very sweetly, "Mom? Why are you still here?" And I was out of there! It's only now that I realize I was more sad than he.

Cole's MK preschool class at Ecole Bilingue was filled with many of his old friends. He checked out the new teachers and spread himself out on the main rug to play. Cole transitions, on the surface, much more easily than George, but it takes him a long time to trust anyone. I wonder why that is. 

When all of the kids came into the house for the first time in 76 days, George checked out his room and his beloved Giraffie. Adeline counted her butterflies. Cole went straight for the costumes. He pulled out every costume and accessory from his costume drawer and put them ALL on. Grandma Sheri and I watched in amusement (there are at least 4 pants underneath the Hans Solo spandex ones).

He took his daily routine and turned it up a few notches... Cole's weird experiment at home always was a weird experiment at home!

But as the song goes, "IT IS GREAT TO BE HOME!" It just requires more washing.

Arches, Work and Light

Breakfast was loud thanks to the Clydes. Someone put a freakin’ candy machine next to the breakfast tables and we spent the morning keeping our kids from shaking the machine. It was broken and when you shook it, skittles came out. A large, stern-looking lady watched over them (and us) and George got his first lessons of stealing. He then asked if kids could go to jail.

(The gossips)

I quickly realized that this was not going to be the Arches trip I’d dreamed of having. The hike to the Delicate Arch which, in the past, never seemed long or hard, was 3 miles there and back. A trip with all 3 kids from the gas station pumps to the gas station restrooms takes marathon training and Tibetan monk stamina. We couldn’t even make it to the first viewing area. We had to settle for the viewing area of the viewing area (essentially). We trekked 50 feet to “see” the Delicate Arch. Tom ran ahead with Adeline in his arms and George running behind him complaining about the heat. Cole had climbed into the front seat of the supermobile and was refusing to get out. “Daddy is waiting for us.” I said. Being tired and wanting something to complain about, Cole began to cry, “Daddy! Daddy!” He jumped out of the car… shoeless… which hurt because the sun had baked the road. He cried harder. I just managed to get his shoes on when he took off running in the direction of Tom, screaming and crying. Other tourists looked me over to see if I was mean. I caught one lady’s eye. I looked back at Cole. His clothes were all on backwards. The zipper of his shorts was facing me as was his shirt’s tag. I remembered that he’d said something about being Backwards Guy. I think he’d even showed me. “Yes, sweetie. Yes, lovie. Eat some oatmeal. No skittles. No! No! No skittles.”

The view from the viewing point was lame. What arch? “It’s pretty,” Tom said, politely standing amongst the other people with children or walkers. The arch looked about 2 inches tall. I have seen it at sunset with cloudless skies and snow-peaked mountains magnificently on display through the arch. When you stand beneath the arch, surrounded by red rock to the left, right and below, it is large, strange and overwhelming. The lady next to me took a picture. Her index finger nail is larger than the arch. I try to explain this to Tom. Cole is nagging him to get back in the car, “It’s too hooooooot.”

With a good zoom:

I went to Arches at that crazy, amazing time when you feel free and strong and infinitely young. And you are. But you’re also dumb and silly. Or at least I was. The first time I went was with Beth and Lilo on a 3-day turn around from New York (someone suggested it, we went, that simple). We ditched classes, took Beth’s sister’s car without permission, smoked foot-long, cheap cigars to stay awake (well, Beth did. Lilo and I laughed too hard and too long to actually do any smoking) and were more or less insane (if we hadn’t already been) by the time we made it up to see the Delicate Arch.

A lot had changed since I was here last, I thought. Adeline dropped Itchy the Frog in the dirt and sat on him while trying to clean the dirt off of her feet. “Clean it, Mom.” Adeline demanded. She doesn’t like her feet dirty for long. It was a dirt path. This could take a very long time.

George was in another world. He was someone fighting someone. Or he was saving someone. Hard to tell. He had a very important stick that he would not let his very determined little sister hold.

When a friend of mine was 23, she decided to have her baby. She arranged an adoption with a couple she liked and thought this would make a good home for her daughter. When pressed about her decision she answered, “I am still center stage right now, even if I don’t want to be. My girl needs to be center stage. She needs everything to revolve around her and be about her. I can’t give her that.” I didn’t know what the heck she meant (the world obviously revolved around me then). I think of this wisdom and what I have chosen often… It’s only an arch. The world is revolving elsewhere.  It’s a profound experience I wanted in visiting it anyway, and I have much more profundity close at hand (literally).

Tom and the boys did hike around Balancing Rock while Adeline slept. Cole braved the heat.  Though he brought back whining boys, Tom said they had fun until the last stretch.

Heading out:

(Above: Cole called this the Elephants).

(Below: Cole said these were eyes)

(These are monkeys:)

Guys in snow hats:

We were done earlier in Moab than I thought. We hit the road in the afternoon, planning on a stop near Zion.

There was a bathroom needed and nothing in sight or on the GPS. We found a quaint place called Fort Cove that looked a little too perfect. And thankfully passed it in favor of the gas station. Even the gas station in the middle of nowhere was a little too clean and cute with barrel wheel benches. It turned out to be owned and run (and funded) by the Latter Day Saints.

I got some soup from the Subway (another Subway with no population to keep it in business) and as I came out, I saw three very busy workers. Those Clydes can work!

 

As I said, we were supposed to stop in Zion. There is a river amongst the rocks where I thought we’d camp and picnic and play. The river is clean and cool and runs along beautiful red rocks. Perfect in this desert heat. This was the plan, but as I’m still learning... Kids and plans; plans and kids… phooey.

It is day 52 I think, and today George cried out that he was tired of being in the car. Amazing that it took to day 52.  I figure we’ve done pretty well for them to last this long. Tom and I also felt that we needed to honor George’s cry out. When he fell asleep with his brother and sis, we made haste and drove into the city of lights. It would now be 3 days in Vegas. Oh dear.

Sick, Sick, Sick

August 4

We woke up way too early (5:30am). Cole had a 103.4 F fever. So the fever of the week before was back. He also said his neck hurt, which freaked us out (it's a symptom of meningitis), so we called the on-call doctor of his pediatric practice. She was not worried and told us to call the practice back at a reasonable hour (Cole did move his chin to his chest while she was on the phone, which was reassuring that we could stop worrying about inflammation of the spine).

Stupidly Tom and I had gone to sleep VERY late, and now all the kids were up. Fun!

So we drove over to the Urgent Care facility in Denver, where all the kids were seen.  We were told by their pediatrician in Berkeley (who we finally did speak to) that we should test them all for strep, since they had all been exposed from the family reunion (a wonderful time, but also, from the reports coming in, a contagious one). When it was time for them to be swabbed, we asked George to go first because, we told him, he is "so brave."  Which is true. He took this responsibility seriously (George takes all responsibilities seriously) and stepped forward to be swabbed. He gagged a little as the nurse put two long q-tips down his throat. 

“Good job, George!" said Tom.  "Cole, you’re next sweetie,” I said. Cole, also brave, rose to his feet and stepped out to where George had stood. “It hurts a little,” George whispered as he passed him on the way back to his seat. “George!” Tom scolded. “Don’t tell him that. It doesn’t hurt.” I wanted to say the same thing.  But George leaned back in to Cole and said, in a hushed, very matter-of-fact voice: “Yes, Cole, it does hurt a little.” Cole cocked his head and listened to George and knew that he was who knew. It was at that moment that we realized that we were seeing a true brotherly moment. George was telling Cole what’s what, and it was clear that there was peer-to-peer respect. Cole trusted George, and he didn’t complain when a moment later he gagged. If George could handle it, he could too, and he did.

I held Adeline’s hand, but she didn’t need cajoling. She'd heard the whole thing. And Adeline never misses a trick. She walked up to the same place Cole and George had been and braced herself. She gagged a little but was soon giggling with her brothers, all of them proud of what they had done.

Next, the doctor had them all line up in a row on the hospital bed, which struck them as even more hilarious. Especially the breathe deeply part when he listened to their chests.

 

He then gave them what were supposed to be "medicinal popsicles" (to keep them hydrated), but were definitely not.  When we got back to the waiting room, waiting for the results (positive for all three) and the prescription (10 days of antibiotics for all three), they lined up three kids' chairs in a row to enjoy their orange sugar-yogurt push-ups... 

George was being quite naughty all day. Apparently it’s his turn. It seems to be cyclical, and just when one child takes the reins as the naughty one, the other two back up and allow he or she to step forward. They must have private meetings late at night over some sparkling apple juice and cookies to decide who is to go next. It actually makes me feel better, now that I’ve realized each one of them does it. They’re trying things out on us... to get a reaction, to feel the power, to learn how to behave and what the rules are. This week it’s George who's stepped forward. You tell him not to do something (poke his brother), and he starts giggling like a maniac and doing it again.

For some reason, as we drove from the clinic to the pharmacy, I had to revoke my offer of a coloring book for everyone. George was MAD and went into a rage. These rages are new. He stomps his feet and makes fists and grunts, telling us, “It’s not fair.” We were all tired of this strep business (which had started so early in the day), and then we had the pleasure of dealing with some not-so-smart Rite-Aid pharmacy workers. They couldn’t fill our entire prescription. They could do ¾ of it. “You can pick the rest up from someone else later.” They crossed out how much was in the bottle. Twice. 

Back in the car at last, when we reluctantly gave the medicine to the kids, they spit it out all over themselves and the car seats and us.  They insisted that it was disgusting.  Great.  Ten days, three times a day for three kids.  How many times disgusting is that?  90?

We were already uncomfortable with the medicine and unsure if it was accurately done (we’re not as trusting as we once were), so we called our pediatrician. “Penicillin?" he said when I read the label on one of the bottles.  "That doctor must not work with kids. That stuff is foul-tasting. I had to have some in medical school.” Our pediatrician sent in a new prescription: the usual pink, milky, delicious stuff.  Parents relieved. Kids relieved.

We saw a dinosaur exhibit at the Denver museum on our way out of town. We went because it was billed as being a journey through evolution, and George (and Tom) really wanted to go. The guidebook said it was great. The guidebook was wrong. It was a waste of an hour. The kids were mostly excited by the escalators. Adeline did lay claim to her first stuffed animal though, as we passed through the gift shop on the way out. She found a green frog puppet that she refused to let go of. She named him Itchy and has not let go of him since.

We drove into the evening to Moab, Utah, arriving about 12 midnight and carrying the sleeping kids to their beds. I have made the trip to Arches National Park three times and was excited to show it to Tom and the kids. I went to sleep dreaming of the Delicate Arch and the almost purple sky against its red rock.

Americana

August 3

We had decided to go slow in the morning. We had much more laundry to do, and we wanted to stay in Abilene for the day and then drive in the night.

Cole woke up last, and he and I went to breakfast alone (Tom took Adeline and George earlier). Cole was excited. “It’s just me and you, Mommy!” He talks nonstop when he’s the only child around. After a few minutes Adeline came running into the breakfast area with her kitty pajama pants below her diaper. Cole went right into silly mode with her, and I suddenly became Mom with the rules again instead of confidant. Ah well.

I took the kids to the pool while Tom edited. Then we swapped and Tom swam with the kids while I added some photos and posted. He then took all 3 of them to lunch while I finished laundry and packed. He said he had to pull some super dad moves to avert some major temper tantrums in the small café (something about a puppet show which told the story of how a fork who refused to stab finally ditched his four spikes of hair and became a spoon).

The Eisenhower complex was our goal today. We saw the Eisenhower museum first. 

Adeline was tired and would only let Daddy push her in the stroller. George wanted only to push the stroller. Cole wanted to be in the stroller. I was so frazzled that I reread the boyhood section over and over again thinking I had missed something. I had learned nothing about him and finally realized that was because the exhibit stunk and not because I wasn’t retaining the information (Tom said he had the same experience).

The museum needs a serious overhaul. The section of his campaign to the presidency is up-to-date and well done, but the rest is confusing and not particularly helpful. There is more information about the first lady (Mamie Eisenhower) than at other museums, which is nice, but it’s mostly about her clothes.

(A skirt with felt cutouts reading 'Atoms for peace' and 'full employment').

Ike’s boyhood home was in the middle of the grassy complex. 

Tom went in with the boys while I had sleeping Adeline. I went in while Tom transferred Adeline in the car. We both had the live flesh animatronic yet angry tour guide. She spoke as soon as the door opened as though you’d pushed a button. She pointed in a general direction, not at something (as if you didn’t deserve to know anyway) and she was angry at you even though she didn’t know you… especially men with kids. Tom needled her in his over-friendly mode, “So six boys lived here! I bet they broke a lot of plates. How many do you think?” “None. They did not break plates.” “Gosh. My boys are good but they sure do break some plates.” “If they broke a plate, their father would take them out to the barn.  That’s how children were raised.” “Whoo-ee! Was he strict? Very religious?” “Yes. They all were.” We assumed she’d been taken out to the barn too many times herself and, hearing that, suddenly I felt sorry for her.

We were on our way out (to try and find the rodeo at the Kansas Free Fair) when I saw this sign. It made me laugh. Does it mean no murder in this particular park? Because a President once lived here?  And the museum is filled with machine guns and anti-tank guns and grenades!

(no parking, no bicycles, no dogs, no killing them if you do happen upon them).

There is a “Place of Meditation” as part of the complex too.  And for a glorious moment we thought it might truly be that. Unfortunately, it was not. It's like the RVs stealing the "camping" verb.

The rodeo was not starting for hours and there wasn’t much else to do in Abilene. Tom checked out the stands and stepped around a lot of pigs lying around in their pens to do so. He spoke with one woman about the schedule and casually remarked, “So right now there’s really just a lot of pigs lying around.” She looked around her, almost noticing them for the first time and wondering if she should be offended. But in the end she saw that he was earnest (I mean there were a lot of pigs lying around) and nodded, “Yep.”

We stopped at a playground rest area and made dinner on our stove, Another family with a 2 year old girl whom we’d sort of met at a gas station about 20 miles back also showed up. Within minutes we had a slice of Americana represented on the playground. There was the yuppie couple with the black BMW, and a young evangelical family who talked to everybody. We met a large, bald carpet cleaner who’d moved from Texas to Washington State and was now moving back for lack of work. There was a young grandmother. And there were those Berkeley liberals cooking their veggies on a camping stove. (Who were they?).

An intense conversation about religion broke out between two salesmen (one was in the health care industry and the other in financials). One salesman literally pitched his church while giving his 6 month old tummy time on an alpaca wool blanket. The other guy jumped into the conversion, and the two got jazzed talking founding fathers while their wives ran after toddlers and tried to connect themselves.

The morose carpet cleaner sat on the picnic bench, asking Tom and me about ourselves. He listened to the conversation happening on the blanket, but wasn’t much interested. It’s hard to worry much about such things when you’re trying to feed a family without a job.

The men on the blanket were attentive fathers and even gave each other parenting advice. “Dude. You gotta read Happiest Baby on the Block. It’ll blow your mind!” I discussed potty training with a mother whose daughter was the same age as Adeline. We traded tips on getting rid of pacifiers, though neither of us has done it.

We chased our kids around the playground, trying to put on their pajamas and then piled them into their seats. The two men from the blanket were talking finances and how much to give to the church. The one with the financial background was packing up his new Beamer and suggesting saving practices so as to give more to the church. The other man slammed his door on his more humble car one more time and suggested a dinner soon in Denver. The carpet cleaner had vanished, but I couldn’t help thinking about him. I hope he finds a job.