Sometimes when I take photos of small objects we find on walks, I arrange them variously. With the most recent attempt, I’m having a lot of difficulty choosing a favorite. The light, texture, and composition in each shot brings forth something special from these same objects. Which one do you like best?
Lift your arm. Let it fall onto your leg. Simple?
Is existence simple?
Consider that there are two massive objects: the earth — the whole big round rock of it — and your relaxed arm. The reality of the earth’s gravitational pull can be experienced in the heavy fall of your arm. Drop your arm again, cosmically this time.
OK, here is a less obvious thought: the mass of your arm is attracting the mass of the earth. Earth-arm force is just as reciprocal as earth-moon force, or in twin stars, star-star force. The earth is falling toward your arm as your arm is falling toward the earth. The attraction is mutual. It’s love.
There’s a binding force in nature, and gravity is its large-scale expression. Every time you drop your hand, or take a step, or hoe the garden, it is the experience of eternal love. Our bones and the earth are lovers; they embrace when we sleep, they mate when we die.
–W. A. Mathieu, The Listening Book: Discovering Your Own Music
Mine, all mine!
At preschool, Bean had a tendency to hurtle into tears if a small thing didn’t go her way, or if she perceived some other child’s behavior as a slight. My response typically had been to croon, hug, and comfort. For instance, one day she brought a stuffed animal with her. In circle time we sing hello to everybody. When we sang hello to her and went on to the next child, she wanted us to sing hello to her animal. When we didn’t, she was more than crestfallen; she was crushed. She burst into sobs, got up, and came running to me.
Bean worried a lot about the other kids not liking her. She thought they might laugh at or make fun of her. (At this age, the kids are only just starting to play together, and she was worried about that?) She was moody. She wanted to control and direct the story of all the pretend play with other kids (and Mommy and Daddy). On the days I was working at the school, she wanted all of my attention. Especially when it came time for me to be in parent discussion.
I began to feel less like a mother and more like her pawn. The neediness in her was insatiable, and her behavior more like a tyrant. I talked with her teacher about it, and she suggested I back off a little. As an example, she talked about the day we didn’t sing hello to her animal. The teacher said, “Your response was to cuddle and reinforce the sadness. But another way to respond is to say, ‘That’s just not what we do here! We sing hello to the students, not all their toys!’ And to help her to lighten up and see it isn’t a big deal.”
And that’s when I realized something. I was teetering on the brink of overcompensating for my own childhood. Not every occasion of disappointment requires deep empathy. Part of my duty as a mother is to prepare Bean to ride with changes, to be flexible. I also had not realized how frightening it must be for Bean to have as much power over me as she did. When she was a baby, she needed all of me, and I gave it. What she needs now, as she moves into the world, is to need less of me. So I began to set more boundaries on what she could have of me. One day she forgot a toy in the car that she wanted for show and tell; it had been her task to remember. When I would not take her back to the car to retrieve it — since we’d gotten to class — Bean gave a world-class demonstration of temper. But I held firm, and she survived and learned a lesson about responsibility.
I continued to heed the teacher’s words that “what you pay attention to grows” and gave more attention to joy than sorrow. Remarkably, within a couple of weeks I, the teacher, and other parents noticed a significant change. Bean began to play with the kids more and less by herself. She participated more in circle time, singing and dancing. She didn’t intrude on me during discussion and instead after snack said, “Bye Mom!” and went outside to play for the last hour. She didn’t attempt to check on me, to get my attention or tell me “something important.”
To sleep, perchance…
When Bean turned three she attempted to stop napping. Her doctor expressed concern about this, because, she said, three-year-olds still really do need a nap. It was true. Bean only slept 9-10 hours at night, and I could see she benefitted from her naps. After a week of refusing to nap, Bean was falling over with exhaustion and emotionally explosive. She also got really sick with a high fever the day before we took a big trip.
Doctor suggested I offer incentives, e.g., “If you nap, you can watch a show after.” (Or whatever special treat might work for Bean.) The bribe of extra t.v. worked until it didn’t — about one week. I tried quiet time, during which she wouldn’t fall asleep but would rock and listen to music for an hour, but this still didn’t provide her the rest she needed. So I returned to the way we handled naps for the first seven months of her life. I rocked her, sang to her, and held her for the duration of the nap, dozing with her.
This worked well. We had preschool two afternoons a week and it was clear those took a toll, but over the school year her stamina increased. And with the steady increase of stamina came the resistance to nap again. I was able to override her refusal most of the time, sometimes by cajoling, other times by threatening (I’ll leave the room and close the door).
When I went away for my getaway weekend, Bean didn’t nap, of course. And when I returned, I allowed this to remain. She is adjusting. She is slightly more tired during the day than she used to be, but it seems a steady state. Her night sleep has increased somewhat, and the quiet hour rejuvenates us both. Best of all, a new world is opening up, the one where we can be unconcerned about “getting home in time” for the nap window. And rather than a two-hour semi-nap sitting up with a crick in my neck, I get one blessed hour to meditate and read while she rocks and listens to music.
So skinny she hula hoops with a cheerio
In April we took our cat to the vet for a blood test, and Bean happened to step on the huge dog scale for fun. The scale read her weight as 28 pounds. I was shocked. It couldn’t be right! She weighed 29 pounds at her annual visit last September!
I’d always fretted about Bean’s nutrition and eating habits. Except for bologna and hot dogs, she eschewed meat. She refuses all forms of milk: cow, soy, almond, flavored, regular, etc. She doesn’t eat much yogurt or cheese. She eats veggies, but only mostly raw. She eats fruit, but only a certain few. Meals involved me asking her what she wanted to eat and trying to please her. Dinners meant cooking something I knew she’d eat, but her whims changed. For awhile I even fed her separately.
Yet here she was weighing less. So we went to her doctor. I learned she had grown taller — 2.5 inches since last September, and since she hadn’t been gaining her growth curve was a little skewed. Her BMI is 13 (what I wouldn’t give for that). Overall, the doctor wasn’t worried because growth occurred. She suggested I take the PAMF Feeding Your Preschooler class for ideas I might use. I came away with a huge list of food Bean does eat and saw that for the most part she is eating well. I learned that my concept of portion sizes for kids was distorted. I learned that we’d be better served if I quit offering her snacks (even salad veggies) to eat while she watched PBS before dinner.
So I relaxed. We have all meals and snacks at table now. I established a firmer schedule and held to it; if she doesn’t eat snack when it’s snack time and decides she’s hungry before lunch/dinner, she just has to wait. I decide what to offer and she either eats or not. I sit with her for all meals (it’s no fun to eat by yourself). I’ve cooked more foods I like despite knowing she won’t probably eat them. Every meal now has bread on the table along with salad, so she’ll get something in her. And guess what has happened? Bean is trying more foods! She has decided she likes pepperoni pizza (previously only cheese would do), cherries, and breakfast sausage.
This combination of releasing the worry and desire to control and establishing parent-driven meal times and menus has freed us. I do my job: offer healthy foods at appropriate times. She does her job deciding whether and what to eat. Talk at mealtimes now focuses on topics other than food, and “encouragement” to eat more. I don’t think she’s gained weight so far, but I see now that I can relax and accept my little petite Bean and enjoy her. We enjoy each other and our meals more now.
The last step of toddlerhood
I want to keep potty-training stories to a minimum in consideration of Bean’s privacy. Suffice it to say that she’s been ready and resistant for some time, but in part her resistance reflected my own. There have been attempts to use the potty since she was two, but I didn’t push because I feared a power struggle. But last week Bean declared she wanted to wear panties (for the second month in a row, the first being April but she quit after a weekend). And I said okay, and that it meant the changing pad, diaper pail, and all Pull-ups were going away forever. (She hugged her changing pad good-bye.)
The first few days were rocky, and I despaired. But we have persisted, and I’ve devised a way to encourage and reward her daily for her effort and increasing competence. She knows she will be enrolled in swimming lessons now, and that after our trip east she’ll get a “princess bike” she yearns for. For shorter-term rewards, she’s getting smaller things. She wanted pink “tap shoes” (Mary Janes), and so this was her gift for completing one week of using the potty. She also lately pines for “princess bubble bath” and, of all things, an American flag, so her gift for the end of the second week will likely be those. They are small, tangible reinforcements of her success. Not too far in the future I see the sticker chart, small candies, and weekly prizes will fade as this function just becomes a routine in her life.
Momma is all grown up! At least for now, for this age and stage and minute. And Bean? Well, she jumps for joy!
I’ve been sitting twice daily for 15 minutes each time. It’s possible that 14 days of daily meditation does not make an adequate sample for assessing results (although I was also told when I began an SSRI that the effects would probably not be felt for weeks and within one week I was experiencing vast improvement), but I think it’s changed me.
In the past two weeks — one of them being my PMS hell-week, when I normally feel like my skin is too tight, am bone-tired, and am agitated and simmering with anger — I have felt something different. Calm. Centered. Grounded. Like a mountain. Unshakeable. Patient. Bemused by things that normally piss me off (stupid drivers, for example). Toward Bean, I have felt the wide open space of graciousness and being, just spending time with her. When we’re getting ready to go somewhere, I haven’t been in my usual flurry of cranky nagging, and we still manage to get where we need to go. As I wrote to Maezen, Bean has been responsive to this. The other day she said, “Mommy, I like the way you talk to me. You’re magic. I love you.” She’s been very affectionate — possibly also because my absence refreshed us both!
I feel a change in my interaction with my husband too. Rather than becoming snippy and defensive when I’m tired, or when discussions snag, I’ve remained clear and calm. I like him more. Or perhaps I’m encountering me differently?! I asked him this morning if he’d noticed any changes in me, and he admitted he had not, but that he also hasn’t been paying much attention. His head has been at work most of the time, even when home.
But possibly the most convincing (to me) evidence that meditation has helped is that I skipped yesterday completely, and as a result today I have that vibrating, irritable energy. I hear a stridency in my voice when I talk to Bean that has been otherwise absent. Perhaps the “honeymoon” of my mini-vacation is over, or perhaps it’s because meditation really has that much impact. The only way to tell is to keep sitting.
I have posted this quote before, but it’s useful to have a reminder:
On Writing Poetry
Considering the ways in which so many of us waste our time, what would be wrong with a world in which everybody were writing poems? After all, there’s a significant service to humanity in spending time doing no harm. While you’re writing your poem, there’s one less scoundrel in the world. And I’d like a world, wouldn’t you, in which people actually took time to think about what they were saying? It would be, I’m certain, a more peaceful, more reasonable place. I don’t think there could ever be too many poets. By writing poetry, even those poems that fail and fail miserably, we honor and affirm life. We say “We loved the earth but could not stay.”
–Ted Kooser
I’m sharing this after reading Maezen’s post of today.
For much of my life I’ve wandered on a spiritual journey without knowing quite where to go. One of the paths I began to explore in the late 1990s was meditation. I took a Vipassana meditation class, read books, and occasionally pretended to be serious about it. In 2003 I began this blog in part because of this interest (and in part because I had a therapy practice), although in my “About This Blog” section I made it clear I was not a Buddhist, lest readers feel mislead or take issue with my less-than-Buddhist perspectives. Having plummeted down the path of conservative Christian fundamentalism twice in my life — and driven loved ones away in the process — I’ve been reluctant and cautious about further pursuits.
In 2006, out of nowhere (and everywhere) a woman contacted me after reading my blog. She had read about my attempts to get pregnant, the miscarriages, the misgivings. She had recently published a book and asked if I would be interested in a complimentary copy. I said yes, although I couldn’t bring myself to read it for quite awhile. Once I was pregnant with Bean, I did read it, devoured it with gratitude and gusto, and I repeatedly returned to that book for comfort and wisdom.
That woman’s name is Karen Maezen Miller. She is a Zen Buddhist priest, a wife, and a mother. I credit her with helping me remain sane and growing into motherhood. After Bean was born and began to exhibit colic, I was panicked and beside myself with agony. Bean wasn’t sleeping. Hub was doing his best but he wasn’t sleeping either. I was terrified I’d do something wrong. Many emails sailed between us — me writing laments, she responding with love. And even though we’d never met, Maezen offered a gift: to come up one weekend and help out with Bean so Hub and I could rest. We talked on the phone to discuss it, and it turned out that this was enough at the time; just knowing the offer was sincere and standing and hearing her voice in the wilderness helped.
I’d seen Maezen subsequently three times; in 2008 she and her daughter visited me and Bean briefly just before Bean’s first birthday; in 2009 at the Mother’s Symposium and 2010 at a one-day retreat. I read her second book. I pondered her thoughts about the importance of having a teacher. And finally, last weekend, I had my first weekend ever away from home and Bean. I drove to Sierra Madre to spend the weekend with Maezen and her family; I also attended a beginner’s meditation class and a dharma talk at Hazy Moon Zen Center. And there it dawned on me that I already have a teacher — Maezen! — and that without realizing it I’d become a student.
It is time to commit. It is time to practice. So I’d like to introduce my new best friend, the “cushion of kindness,” as Maezen calls it. The technical name is zafu. And when I sit on my zafu, this is called zazen. This is where the revolution takes place. Facing a blank wall, alone, silent, counting my breaths, and being awake.
I am not yet in a position of making a formal commitment. That will come when it comes. It is not lost on me that one of my favorite quotes, which I encountered in 1998, is by Hui-Neng, a Zen monastic from the 7th/8th century. “The secret is within your self.” It’s been there all along, waiting for me to look, and see.
The other watershed quote that inspired me to move from Syracuse to Austin in the early 90s was by Sir Edmund Hilary, organizer of a Mount Everest Expedition, and it too rings familiarly as I observe what is changing. The snippet that motivated me I have italicized, but the entire quote is priceless.
“Until one is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his/her way. I learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets: What ever you can do, or dream you can; begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.”
My next trip to Sierra Madre will probably be later in the summer or fall, when they offer a three-day retreat at the center. So, hello world! My name is Kathryn and I am, at last, “abuddha” (awake).
My husband’s gift to me today, a “Fjellheim” Japanese Maple! I’ve named it Gaia — mother. We bought it locally, and I’m so happy with it! From this:
To this:
We’ve got much more planting to do, but first we needed to position the tree. This is the north side of the house, and most of the year it gets no direct sunlight.
As my husband says, nothing is ever halfway with me. After reading Michael Pollan’s book, In Defense of Food: An Eater’s Manifesto, I’ve wondered exactly how to follow his advice: “Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.” I recently purchased a small pile of books, several of which feel intuitively revolutionary to me. The titles:
Green For Life, by Victoria Boutenko: This book explains nutrition in a very accessible manner, providing scientific data and references to studies to support its claims. I am skeptical of a few claims (such as gray hair returning to its natural color after adding green smoothies to one’s diet), but the majority of information makes practical sense and is upheld by general standards of nutrition. The book is concise and printed on high-quality paper.
Green Smoothie Revolution: The Radical Leap Towards Natural Health, by Victoria Boutenko: This second book by Boutenko provides the core information on the benefit of green smoothies. The majority of the book contains recipes (i.e., inspiration for mixing) of smoothies. (It’s also concise and printed on high quality paper, meaning it will hold up over long-term use and doesn’t take up much kitchen shelf space.) In both books, I like the author’s voice. She writes in a way that is educated yet understated.
The Green Smoothie Diet: The Natural Program for Extraordinary Health: I returned this one to the bookstore. It’s a regurgitation of Boutenko’s general ideas (even the title) but without any references to scientific or medical studies. It read an awful lot like a sales pitch for Blendtec, and rather than a bibliography of resources at the end it contained pages and pages of testimonials. While they make for entertaining reading, they are anecdotal, and I’m not going to base my nutrition decisions on the hallelujahs of strangers. The paper was also cheap, the kind that will yellow and grow brittle in a couple of years.
Fresh from the Vegetarian Slow Cooker, by Robin Robertson: while I browsed the shelves, struggling to decide whether to purchase Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything Vegetarian (an enormous book and pricey), I came across this one. I use my slow cooker quite a bit. I was pleased to see a book chock full of delicious dishes to make. They can be adapted for vegans as well, although I’m unlikely to ever take that route.
Vegan Unplugged: A Pantry Cuisine Cookbook and Survival Guide, by Jon Robertson: While I just wrote that I won’t become vegan, what intrigued me about this book was its niche — a book specifically written with the question of how to survive if the power goes out for a long time. The book explains how to create a pantry full of goods for the recipes it provides. There are about 17 recipes requiring no cooking at all. Different methods of creating heat (wood, gas stove, sterno) are discussed. There’s also a five-day meal plan for vegans who might drive somewhere; they can bring their own food to the in-law’s (for camping this is good as well). (I once dated a vegan and we had the hardest time finding places he could and would eat.) Most of the recipes sound delicious and are ones I’d make anyhow.
The other day I roasted a whole chicken. I noticed something in my reaction while preparing and later eating it. As I took it out of the wrapper, for the first time it felt a little weird to be handling flesh. Not quite obscene, but a little foreign. Bean asked what it was, and I said it was a chicken. She pointed to the wings and inquired of them; after I answered she laughed and said, “Food with wings! That’s silly!” (Bean is almost vegetarian; the only meat she eats are kosher hot dogs from Trader Joe’s, Oscar Meyer baloney, my pulled pork, the rare fish stick, and an occasional strip of bacon. She refuses milk still but will once in awhile eat cheese or yogurt.)
Anyhow, once the chicken was roasted I was ravenous to eat it. What I wanted and enjoyed the most was the crispy seasoned skin. I ate the meat and it was tasty, but I was satisfied with one portion. The next day I used the meat to add to dinner salads, and while it tasted all right it seemed superfluous. I ate a chicken sandwich today, and again it was all right, but not the tasty concoction I used to salivate over. Now I’m cooking the carcass for soup, but it smells odd to me in the house. It smells like… flesh cooking. It smells slightly revolting. Hmmm.
I wonder what’s up?
Hi dear readers (all 5 of you who are left). I know I hardly post here anymore. But today I have good news to share. The saga of the breast cancer question has been answered. I had the genetic test done for BRCA 1 and 2 (thanks to insurance paying), and the result is I have neither mutation! This is a relief. The oncologist still thinks I should consider taking Tamoxifen because of the family history and atypical hyperplasia I have. I’m not so sure, given the potential life-ending side effects. So for now I am cancer-free and I have options for trying to remain so.
There are other, less toxic avenues I started down. One is to consume green smoothies. I’ve not done much research for scientific findings of the health benefits of green smoothies (particularly regarding cancer prevention), but from so many books I’ve read (Michael Pollan, Mark Bitman, etc.), an increase in consumption of these foods can only promote health.
I don’t have the high-tech blender suggested for this (they are pricey at $400, though I’m told worth it). If I stay the course, maybe I’ll get one. Depends on how many blenders I burn out. The cool thing is that so far the smoothies I make taste good. I’m told some of the greens I might end up using make for a less sweet concoction. But thus far this is the recipe I’m using: two generous handfuls of spinach; 1 small banana; 1 pear; 1 cup grapes. (Or I could go with more pears, no grapes, etc.). About a tablespoon of grade B maple syrup, and 1.5 cups of water. I blend the hell out of it for two minutes.
Voila! A truly tasty beverage (even comes in my favorite color!).
Thirty dollars spent at Lowe’s + Some digging by Mommy = Priceless happiness
“If a child is to keep his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement, and mystery of the world we live in.”
–Rachel Carson
So much planting, painting, fixing, creating.
Lately we’ve been tending our garden, literally. A year ago we were marching through the process of house inspections and appraisals in order to get the house. When we moved in late May, the early year growing season was well under way. (We pretty much have a year-round growing season, though.) I planted wildflower seeds in the back yard, and while these were a success, when they died in the fall the garden was barren except for weeds. Speaking of which, they grow prolifically! I can’t keep up.
So I’ve been planting plants, bulbs, and seeds with Bean. We’ve planted rosemary, basil, oregano, and thyme, as well as lavender and jasmine. I’ve also planted Lily of the Valley bulbs, Asiatic Lily bulbs, and a Bleeding Heart bulb. As for seeds, Bean and I sowed plenty: pansies, poppies, zinnias, daisies, and sunflowers, as well as some wildflower mix. We’ll see how well this all grows.
The challenge comes when I surf the internet researching plants and garden planning. There are so, so many sites with lovely plants for sale. I want them all, even though I haven’t the space for them. I also want trellises, a raised bed for vegetables, and on and on.
I must remember this is all a process done in stages. We have various spots of our land than need different major bits of work. We also plan to re-do the back patio and put up a shade awning, and before I start planting around those spaces I need to leave room for the mess and see how the awning affects light near the house. The front of the house also has a couple spots needing major attention, as well as the west side of the house, which is compacted soil and rock from where it used to store the previous owner’s trailer. All in good time. We replaced the fence on the west side; it looks nice, and we had a four-foot gate installed as well, which is a boon for lugging supplies to and fro.
It was so wonderful to spend the weekend outside doing all this. Bean loves it too. My dream of giving her a place to dig in the dirt came true. She also met some snails, which she is not shy about carrying around and playing with. Unfortunately one met its demise at her hands. While she played with it (“he” was her pet), the shell cracked. So she tried to help it move into a new shell (we have a basket of small seashells outside). I explained to her this wasn’t like a hermit crab; he couldn’t just move out and in. But — while I didn’t witness this — I think she tried to help it move into a small seashell, and in the process it got squished. I heard her lament that her friend “went away.” She was sad, but not for long. Our garden does not lack for those creatures.
Since we spent most of the weekend outside, the poor house needs attention. Now I want a magic broom to sweep, and a magic vacuum, and dishwasher fairies. Or at the least a maid service! But alas, I’ll need to take up these tasks myself. I will do so, gratefully.
The case is solved. I have NO CANCER!! I have a referral to an oncologist to discuss risk reduction options and to a genetic counselor to discuss testing for BRCA 1 and 2. I’m higher risk but so is living in general. Time to celebrate!
And here’s another craft Bean and I did (since life does go on even while parts of it are stalled):
The climate here is a Mediterranean one, which means near-idyllic conditions. So when weather happens, it becomes a Big Deal. For the past few days a “huge” Arctic storm was destined to come down from Canada. Stop the presses! Cover your water pipes! It might get into the upper 20s! And IT MIGHT SNOW!!!! OMG, OMG, OMG! The forecasters were in a frenzy. And we were a little excited too, thinking Bean might have an introduction to a few flakes, and that if it really snowed, we could drive toward the Santa Cruz mountains for more.
On Friday, rain gusted through and the winds blew it sideways. It made an attempt at being the big bad wolf, but frankly I’ve seen worse. Later in the day, the clouds parted, the sun beamed, and the forecasters adjusted their expectations. It was to come overnight Saturday. Well, I woke up this morning and took a nice walk. And this is what I saw from the top of La Colina Park (a park near us). The series of photos you see are a 360 panorama. Then there will be some other photos. All of this I submit as evidence that the weather forecasters need to go back to school!
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.
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 Bean, 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 Bean 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.
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.
I think we have a budding insomniac. Lately, Bean 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.
Outside my window… The sky is clear and stellar.
I am thinking… that I need to stop procrastinating and clean the kitchen.
I am thankful for… my daughter, who asked to sing along with a folk song CD and book collection today.
From the kitchen… I made white bean chili today.
I am wearing… goosebumps. It’s chilly here!
I am creating… time and space in my life for more art and knitting.
I am going… to start reading a new book, probably At Home by Bill Bryson.
I am reading… at this very moment, nothing. I just finished The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.
I am hoping… Bean is well enough to attend preschool tomorrow. She has a small cold.
I am hearing… Stella, my cat, purring in my right ear as she snuggles behind my head on the couch.
Around the house… we really need to vacuum! But ours is broken and at the repair shop.
One of my favorite things… is cuddling with my daughter.
A few plans for the rest of the week: Preschool, crafts with Bean, starting a painting.
Here is picture I am sharing…
Hub gave me a new camera for Christmas. I’m learning to use it, and here is something I did today.
From Recuerda Mi Corazon, read The Perfect Scent of Pine — a lovely, heartfelt, poetic tribute to Christmas. I hope that when Bean 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.
