Category Archives: Motherhood

In the Meantime

Life continues as normal. We create, learn, play, grow. Things change quickly! Until a couple weeks ago, Claire just couldn’t handle scissors, although she wanted to. Her hands are very petite. Then we went to a library event that involved a craft; she picked up scissors and began snipping. She’s been at it since. It remains difficult since her hands are small; she manages small snips and can’t cut a line. She switches hands when one gets tired (she’s really a righty), but she’ll get there.

using scissors

In the past few days, her approach to coloring also changed. She used to scrawl a few lines on a picture and move on. She also didn’t like to color very much. Then one day she wanted to use a new book sent by Aunt Linda, and I noticed she steadily worked to color the entire picture. Her movements were more controlled, and she colored about an hour. I sat with her and kept company. It was pouring rain, and she said, “I like this quiet activity. It makes me feel cozy.” And indeed we were.

changes in coloring habit

We’re on to the letter R in our alphabet crafts. You can also see a collage Claire made from the bits of paper she snipped with her scissors. I put glue on the paper, and as she cut pieces fell onto it.

rabbit and red

When she was sick a couple weeks back, I assembled some boxes so she could make a rocket ship. We had done this at school, and it was good for several hours of entertainment. It’s the type of thing that can be stored in the garage and pulled out periodically to work on. We’ll get it out again and play with paints soon.

rocket ship

Way back on her birthday, someone gave Claire a little spin art toy kit. Last week I pulled it out, and we made some neat art. I helped her (it’s a challenge to coordinate squeezing paint and pushing the spin button). Here’s the result.

spin art

Aunt Linda had sent (a loooooong time ago) some glow-in-the-dark stickers. I’d stored them for a time when she could really appreciate the phenomenon. We pulled them out on a day it poured rain and decorated a piece of black paper. After exposing them to light we hung it in our half-bath, closed the door, and looked at them. She was fascinated. She was also insistently curious about the stickers that looked like whirlpools. Out of desperation I said they were worm holes. She then wanted to know if “the astronauts go into the worm hole to watch the worms wiggle.” I told her to ask her father. šŸ˜‰

glow in the dark planets

Lastly, for her birthday we’d given her a rug with a town decorated on it. She had zero interest in it. She has a nook under the stairs which I’d covered with two bath mats for cushioning. It was cluttered with pillows and bins of toys. I decided to clear things out and put the rug in there, and now it’s a hit!

playing in the nook

We also have an annual membership to the Children’s Discovery Museum, activated yesterday. Prior trips to the museum were infrequent and short. Yesterday we stayed about three hours; she loved it. She understands a lot more, and she’s bigger and less daunted by the crowd of kids. She got to sit inside an ambulance, fire truck, and old jalopy. She made a collage. She played with giant soap bubbles. She made pretend pizza and learned about “eating a rainbow every day” (fruits and veggies). She painted her face thoroughly with blue and yellow in the face paint area. She built a ball ramp with giant foam blocks. And she played at the water center, getting wet and having a blast. Hub took a few photos with his camera phone, which he’s not downloaded yet. But trust me when I say we’ll be going often now!

Results

I got a phone call at noon on Thursday with my biopsy results. The news wasn’t the worst, but it’s not the best either. I have Atypical Ductal Hyperplasia. In simplest terms, this means there’s a spot on my breast with too many cells growing in the duct that are taking on suspiciously irregular forms. It’s not cancer, yet. But it’s one stage below Ductal Carcinoma In Situ, also known as DCIS. DCIS is also not considered dire, because it means the cancer is not yet invasive. But neither is a situation in which to sit back and do nothing.

On March 3 I meet with a surgeon, because yet another biopsy is required. This will be an excisional biopsy, I think with general anesthesia; they will remove more tissue for testing. If they find cancer cells, then we proceed from there. If they find nothing, then I will be closely monitored. I plan to ask about taking tamoxifen as a preventive measure. I also plan to seriously consider getting tested for the BRCA1 and BRCA2 gene mutations. (BRCA is a gene known as a tumor supressor. A harmful mutation greatly increases risk.) I believe that having the BRCA1 mutation also puts one at a 20-40% higher risk for ovarian cancer as well. With a family history (my maternal grandmother and my mother had breast cancer), and this condition, I feel like my breasts are a minefield. If carry BRCA1, I’d also consider an oophorectomy (removal of my ovaries).

Lots to consider. Lots of tumultuous feelings.

Wearing Thin

The waiting is the hardest part. I’ve been doing all right, on the surface. And there’s an 80% chance there will be no malignancy. But I won’t know until Thursday at the earliest. So I go through each day, playing with Claire, cleaning, shopping, cooking, and functioning. But there’s an undertow of distraction. It manifests through a struggle to pay attention, in a desire to be another place than what I’m doing. When I’m playing with Claire it feels like a chore. When faced with cooking I don’t want to do it. I want to eat mindlessly, and entirely sugary foods. I want to take Ambien and sleep until the results are in.

What I will do, instead, is tolerate this moment. The only moment I have. I’ll keep showing up to each moment to the best of my ability, make an effort to stay engaged with what’s in front of me. I will struggle to remain, I won’t always succeed, and I’ll do the best I can.

Love Is Always

Claire and I made this together. I set it up, she sprinkled stuff on it (confetti, sequins, jewels, feathers), squirted glitter glue, and I finished it off. Contact paper is wonderful stuff!

big heart

A few days later I made a quick collage in a few spare moments in my art journal. I call it “Store Up Treasures in Your Heart”; it’s on 7 x 9 inch sketch paper. I’m attempting to make a little time more frequently for my own creating.

store up treasures in your heart

All That Was Missing Was Incense

I’ve got to hand it to Palo Alto Medical Foundation. Almost every encounter I have with them is an interaction of efficiency and compassion, from the desk staff to the doctors. Today I had a stereotactic breast biopsy. That’s where you climb onto a table that’s a cross between a massage table and an auto shop lift, and your breast hangs through a hole, and they put a needle in to pull out suspicious tissue for testing. It’s not a Big Deal, but it’s not how I’d prefer to spend an afternoon, either.

But it was more pleasant than I expected. I checked in 15 minutes early as required. I was seen within 5 minutes, whisked back to a changing room, given a terrycloth robe, and told to wait in a little room chock full of magazines. Shortly I was ushered into the biopsy room.

The room was softly lit overhead (not the interrogation lighting common to such places). There was a 24×36″ photo of a sunset on the Marin Headlands to gaze at. And soft, new-agey music provided background ambiance. If there had been hot towels, aromatherapy, and chimes, I might have fallen asleep. (Not really.) The staff were caring. The physician made a point of talking to me before the procedure about what was coming and held my hand while she did so. The nurse periodically put her hand on my back. At one point I even closed my eyes. Aside from a sting when they put the local anesthesia in, and a little bit of tugging, I felt no sensation. They frequently asked how I was doing. I joked that with a three-year-old at home, it was actually a bit nice to lie still for awhile.

It was over in an hour. They were happy with the sample. They got 99% of the calcifications out and put a teeny titanium marker in the spot in case it turns out to be cancerous and they need to go back. It’s all over except for the results, which unfortunately take time. The earliest I will hear about it is next Thursday, the 17th. I’m a little sore and bruised, but it’s nothing compared to other medical interventions I’ve had.

Until then, I simply don’t have enough information, so I’m not traipsing down any “what if” paths. Yes, I’m a little tense about the unknown, but not in a way that’s ruining the present.

Playing

Feeling quiet on the blog these days. Did a painting on a 24×36″ canvas — my first one. All that blank white canvas felt a bit daunting, but I did enjoy mooshing paint around. I also used oil pastel on details.

forest

Claire and I are getting into the spirit of the next holiday:

love is in the air

And we are continuing to create our way through the alphabet!

owl and octopus

We’ve had an abundant crop of Meyer lemons (as well as other lemons and oranges). I usually juice them and freeze them in cubes. But this time I wanted to preserve some and use them for later cooking. I made four jars. It was simple, and making them was such pleasure. They are gorgeous!

jar up close

One day, about a week ago, Claire desperately wanted to celebrate a birthday. She wanted it to be hers, and she cried a bit over the fact that it wasn’t. But she wanted cake and to sing the song. So I did a little research for a literary figure born on that day. I found the poet, Helen Hoyt, was born on the day in question. We explored the poetry a little at the Poetry Foundation, and I baked each of us a little cake. We sang happy birthday to her. We’ll be doing that again, I’m sure!

celebrating a birthday

Lastly, I bought fresh gnocchi on a whim. I didn’t have a tomato sauce to use, and I wanted to do something different with it. So I sauteed zucchini in olive oil with basil and a few sliced preserved Meyer lemons. I really enjoyed it, but two-thirds of the household diners did not like it as much. One said the lemon made it bitter. I’ll need to find other uses for the lemon.

gnocchi

So, if you’ve been wondering why I’ve been quiet here since January 19th, this post is your answer!

The Heart Grows Too

The other day, Claire was watching one of her very-favorite-of-all-time-in-her-life shows: Dinosaur Train. It was the end of an episode; I was nearby on the computer. Suddenly she burst into huge sobs. I was startled. What happened? What’s wrong?! I asked her. Her chest was heaving, and she wailed out, “They s-s-said good-bye!! I’m so sad! I feel so lonely!!”

I sat down and pulled her to me while she cried. Then we backed up the show to see what upset her. She burst into tears again. The dinosaur friends were saying good-bye for the evening, going home to dinner. It wasn’t forever good-bye. Then Claire said the music made her sad. And I could see that. The notes are sweet, but they’re in a minor key and they descend. It’s intended to evoke a feeling of end-of-the-day calmness, but in Claire it triggered sorrow.

“Mommy, does music make you sad?” I replied that sometimes, music has the power to stir up feelings of sadness, joy, anger, and other feelings.

I realize not everyone will care to know the details, but in case you’re curious, I found the episode online (be patient while the show loads).

Dinosaur Train: Tiny’s Tiny Place

If you watch it, you can move the little orange slider on the blue bar so that the number of seconds remaining say 1:00 (minute). Play it from that point, and watch and listen. It’s about 30 seconds, but it triggered a giant response.

She has grieved before — when things don’t go her way, or something is lost or taken from her. However, this was the first expression and experience of grief as a “witness,” on a more existential level, with a situation not attached to her directly.

It made my heart clutch for a moment. There is so much more of that ahead of her. I hope I am up to the task of helping her learn to hold her heart, and those of others, in compassion.

The Brain, It Grows

I think we have a budding insomniac. Lately, Claire has taken to climbing out of bed after being tucked in and rocking in her chair for hours (if we allow it). Then it started in the middle of the night. She’d wake up, get out of bed and rock, several times a night. When asked why, she replied that she has “thoughts to think” and if she sleeps she can’t do it. She would smirk a little when we came in; it became a game, and a budding power struggle. She also expresses fear of bad dreams, although she doesn’t have nightmares, and only once in a while does she cry out in her sleep.

We discussed whether to just let her do this. It’s her room, after all. However, she has a will that is formidable. She managed to stay up and rock until after midnight one night. Another night she got up at 1 a.m. and rocked until 3 a.m. when we finally went into her room and coerced her back in bed. She rarely sleeps past 7:00 a.m., so she became sleep-deprived, manifesting all the behavior that arises in children when that happens.

So we employed a drastic measure. We removed her chair and ottoman one night and put it in the hallway (she is still unable to open doors by herself). It resulted in a ruckus of protest, but she went to bed and slept. The next night I wrote up and printed The Sleep Rules from Mark Weissbluth, adding a cute graphic of a girl asleep in her bed to make it friendly. I taped them to her wall, and we reviewed them. We told her if she got out of bed we’d come and remove the chair.

    The Sleep Rules

  • Stay in bed.
  • Close your eyes.
  • Stay very quiet.
  • Go to sleep.

As soon as she was put in bed, not five minutes later she was out. So we fulfilled our promise. She protested briefly, accepted this, and went to sleep. The next morning we put the chair back. That night, she stayed in bed and went to sleep. However, at 2 a.m. she woke up and started rocking. We went in and removed the temptation. She went right back to sleep. We told her the next morning that if she keeps getting out of bed when she should be sleeping, we were going to move the rocker and ottoman out of her room permanently, into the guest room. She said she didn’t want that! We replied that we didn’t want to do it either, and if she could stay in bed the rocker would remain. She promised she would.

We reviewed the sleep rules last night, and we reminded her about the arrangement. She woke twice in the night. At midnight (I was still up) she only woke slightly and I heard her. I went in and reassured her, reminded her to go back to sleep, and tucked her in. At 3 a.m. she woke crying for me saying, “I’m afraid of the dark!” (She has a bright night light.) I went in and she’d gotten out of bed but not made it to the chair. I returned her to bed, soothed and tucked her in, and sang a short lullaby. She remained there until 7 a.m.

So, I am hoping we continue to have success in this. We really love rocking her and holding her, and she uses it to relax herself. Someday she will outgrow it, but I think it’s still an essential piece of our lives.

More Sewing

About ten years ago — more than, probably — I found a fabric I loved. I didn’t sew then, but I bought some. When we moved in, I hung it in Claire’s room with push-pins as a makeshift curtain. There wasn’t enough to make curtains for the window, but it did block some of the morning light. Husband finally said the other day, “It’s time to buy some curtains for her room.”

My response was, “No way, I can make them. I promise!” Somehow my sense of motherhood had been threatened! {Gasp!} (Not really, but it seemed ridiculous to spend a lot of money on curtains when I had the means to make them myself.) I had been saying I’d make curtains for months. Well, 2011 arrived, and it was time. So I took the fabric — black background with vivid blue butterflies — to Joann Fabrics to find a complementary color fabric in an amount to help cover the window. Then I measured, cut, measured again, ironed, sewed, ironed some more, sewed some more, and voila! I had curtains. Husband got a rod at Lowe’s and by the end of Saturday, January 1, Claire had curtains. Finally! They are not perfect, but only if you look really hard up close can the flaws be found. I’m inordinately proud of them. I will probably make more later in the spring from a lighter fabric, since her current favorite color is yellow.

Now I’ve got a mind to make some valences for the guest bedroom and office…

new curtains i made

A Christmas Wish

From Recuerda Mi Corazon, read The Perfect Scent of Pine — a lovely, heartfelt, poetic tribute to Christmas. I hope that when Claire is grown, I will be able to grace paper with words in a similar way.

Let there be light and joy in your heart; may you hear music that sends your soul afloat; and may your heart, as Rebecca says, be broken the way you want it to be broken.

christmas brilliance

Shortbread and Raspberry Heaven

Raspberry Almond Thumbprint Cookies

1 cup butter, softened
2/3 cup white sugar
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup seedless raspberry jam

3/4 cup confectioners’ sugar
3/4 teaspoon almond extract
1 Tablespoon milk

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).

In a medium bowl, cream together butter and white sugar until smooth. Mix in 1/2 teaspoon almond extract. Mix in flour until dough comes together. Roll dough into 1 1/2 inch balls, and place on ungreased cookie sheets. Make a small hole in the center of each ball, using your thumb and finger (I used a 1/2 teaspoon measure, round side down), and fill the hole with preserves (I used 1/4 teaspoon to scoop).

Bake for 14 to 18 minutes in preheated oven, or until lightly browned. Let cool 1 minute on the cookie sheet.

In a small bowl, mix together the confectioners’ sugar, 3/4 teaspoon almond extract, and milk until smooth (adjust milk amount if needed to get proper consistency). Drizzle lightly over warm cookies.

(Recipe from AllRecipes.com with a few adjustments)

raspberry almond thumbprint closeup
raspberry almond thumbprint - with flash

A Sea Change

I wrote the following on October 20, before I got ahold of Geneen Roth’s book, Women Food and God.

I like to eat.
I like to eat sweet, salty, and calorie-dense foods.
I eat when I am not hungry.
I eat when I am bored.
I eat when I feel stressed.
I resist the idea of portion control.
I resist the idea of restricting food.
I resist the method of counting calories or WW points.
I eat whatever I want whenever I want.
I want to eat whatever I want whenever I want.
I resist exercise.
I resist sweating.
I enjoy being lazy.
——-
It feels like too much effort to move my body.
It feels like too much effort to lose weight.
It feels like too much effort to finagle my schedule to get exercise time.
——–
Before I met my husband, I exercised a lot and ate better, in part because I was unhappy and avoided being home alone. Exercise was a way of coping. And I could not afford to buy the kind of food I do now, or indulge as I do now.
——–
I ache most days in my joints. I move slowly. I have little core strength and less limb strength. My ability to balance is decreasing.
———
What does it take to get motivated? Do I get healthy for myself, for my mother, for my daughter? What level of self-loathing underlies all this behavior?
——
Reality: My body does not need a high calorie intake because of a) age and b) activity level. Yet calorie-dense foods are EVERYWHERE.

I read Roth’s book in mid-November, and it really didn’t tell me new information. (I do think it useful for someone without a lot of educational background in psychology.) However, I decided to follow her eating guidelines, as listed below:

The Eating Guidelines

  1. Eat when you are hungry.
  2. Eat sitting down in a calm environment. This does not include the car.
  3. Eat without distractions. Distractions include radio, television, newspapers, books, intense or anxiety-producing conversations or music.
  4. Eat what your body wants.
  5. Eat until you are satisfied.
  6. Eat (with the intention of being) in full view of others.
  7. Eat with enjoyment, gusto and pleasure.

I’ve also been getting on the bike nearly every day for about 30 minutes. It’s boring. I almost loathe it. But about seven minutes into the routine I hit my stride and resistance goes away (though I’m still bored), and by the end I feel really great. It gives me more energy and I feel stronger. I realized, too, that I would often eat in anticipation of future hunger. In other words, I would eat when not hungry before we left the house, because I figured we might not have time to get food while we were out, and I’m cranky when I’m hungry. And I wouldn’t think much about what I ate.

Once I began to pause and really feel what my body felt hungry for, I started choosing more vegetables and fruits and less peanut butter. Though, at times, I have to really pay attention to discern what my body wants versus what my taste buds want. Once I began to focus more on taste and texture, I began to feel satisfied sooner and my portions reduced. I eat sweets (a cookie or two, a bit of toffee) and enjoy the “just right” amount.

So what has happened in the past month? I’ve lost 11 pounds. It feels good. We’ll see if the weight continues to come off. My life feels less fraught with frustration at myself.