The Confirmation Process
June 30, 2010 by 3 Comments
No. Stop. Please.
Although this was probably better than the other ridiculous questions being asked.
Where I Belong
June 29, 2010 by 15 Comments
I have four incisions.
Two on the right side of my stomach and one on the left. And a large incision that stretches from my belly button down to my pelvis in a less-than-straight line. Of course that last incision annoys me the most because I had worn a bikini for the first time in many, many years…and I will now, again, put that bikini back in the drawer.
The surgery was technically a success. About 13 inches of my colon were removed and my gall bladder, complete with hundreds of impacted stones, taken out. My body is recovering mentally and physically as to be expected. I’m worn down. I’m beat up. And I’m tired. Things hurt all over.
But it could be worse. It always could be worse. And I am home with my family, where I belong.
Morning
June 23, 2010 by 27 Comments
Mrs. Vest, this is G from Camp Invention. Your son would like to come home early today to cuddle with you.
His poor, anxious mind is already on tomorrow morning, when I’ll undergo surgery on my colon and have my gall bladder removed. He worries so much. Just like his mother. A trait I wished I would not have passed on.
Mom, I’m not going to die ever, so everything will be fine tomorrow.
My daughter’s logic, never fails. Always bold and stubborn. Also just like her mother. A trait I’m glad I passed on. She’s convinced we can’t die and I’m lying to her when I try to explain everyone dies, eventually.
Mom, when I grow up you really are going to die, aren’t you?
What do you think?
I think you are going to die.
and then from the bed…my son tells her …
Hala, you KNOW everyone dies and that’s just the way of life. You just don’t want to have a normal life.
No, I’m going to live always.
But you can’t!
Yes I can!
And there I sat, the night before my surgery, with my five and seven-year olds arguing about death. And I felt alone, and cold, and miserable at the realities they were dealing with because of my inability to be healthy.
Father’s Day 2010
June 20, 2010 by 6 Comments
Father’s Day 2010
By the President of the United States
From the first moments of life, the bond forged between a father and a child is sacred. Whether patching scraped knees or helping with homework, dads bring joy, instill values, and introduce wonders into the lives of their children. Father’s Day is a special time to honor the men who raised us, and to thank them for their selfless dedication and love.
Fathers are our first teachers and coaches, mentors and role models. They push us to succeed, encourage us when we are struggling, and offer unconditional care and support. Children and adults alike look up to them and learn from their example and perspective. The journey of fatherhood is both exhilarating and humbling it is an opportunity to model who we want our sons and daughters to become, and to build the foundation upon which they can achieve their dreams.
Fatherhood also carries enormous responsibilities. An active, committed father makes a lasting difference in the life of a child. When fathers are not present, their children and families cope with an absence government cannot fill. Across America, foster and adoptive fathers respond to this need, providing safe and loving homes for children facing hardships. Men are also making compassionate commitments outside the home by serving as mentors, tutors, or big brothers to young people in their community. Together, we can support the guiding presence of male role models in the lives of countless young people who stand to gain from it.
Nurturing families come in many forms, and children may be raised by a father and mother, a single father, two fathers, a step father, a grandfather, or caring guardian.
Read the entire proclamation at WhiteHouse.gov
How Silly Bandz Saved The Day
June 17, 2010 by 14 Comments
I’m starting to chicken out.
I know next week’s surgery on my colon will make me better…but I don’t want to do it.
I had my pre-op tests today. You know, the usual blood work and EKGs and Chest X-rays and what not. I found myself sitting on the exam table contemplating fleeing. I was coming up with a plan, mentally, on how to talk my doctor and my husband and my family and friends OUT of my surgery.
I knew I could do it too. I had an entirely valid argument thought out in my crazy brain and I was ready to go to war to skip next week’s surgery. I’m pretty good at this sort of thing- convincing people and justifying the unjustifiable. I could go down this road and not only cancel the surgery but have everyone agreeing with me what a horrible idea it was in the first place
Then I looked down at my arm.
Before I left the kids spelled out ‘MOM’ with silly bandz and told me to wear them for luck to my appointment.
Turns out those stupid fad bracelets gave me more than luck, they gave me strength. I thought about my kids and my husband who have been so very torn apart and affected by my health and how I NEEDED to do this for them.
Next week I will have surgery and it will suck, but I will get better. For myself, for my family. I won’t run. I won’t worm my way out of it…and I’ll remember my priorities.
My kids come first. My family comes first. Time to walk the walk.
Too Much, Too Soon
June 13, 2010 by 28 Comments
She’s five, dancing to Tina Turner in a hot pink outfit, hair flying and having fun.
And I’ve made the decision that tonight, under those stage lights for her dance recital, she won’t be wearing makeup. Not stage makeup, anyway. Call me mean, call me a prude… I don’t really care. I see the ritualistic face-painting not as some way to ‘enhance’ her performance under the lights but to make her look older, more grown-up, and obviously ‘dolled’ up.
…and that creeps me out.
I’ve told her she can paint her nails and toes and wear a little lip gloss. That’s it. Anything else just feels wrong for a five-year old girl having fun in a dance for her family and friends. She doesn’t need to be tarted up to give a good performance or look beautiful up on the stage. She doesn’t need makeup to make her face stand out under the lights or to make sure we see her cheekbones from three rows back. The only reason she would need makeup is to enhance the ‘pretty’- and at five, she’s got ‘pretty’ in spades.
I fully expect half her class to be in sparkly, blue-eyeshadow’d, red rouge, red lipstick regalia. I don’t want her to feel left out or not let her have fun and ‘pretend’ or ‘dress up’ … but there are limits. Limits to what a five-year old on stage can do vs. an eight-year old and so on and so forth. And I’ll deal with each year as it comes and decide what seems appropriate. This isn’t some professional production of a Broadway show…this is a local dance class with parents and grandparents and siblings cheering them on.
As the little girl who just graduated pre-school and is experiencing her first recital, she needs to know she’s beautiful on that stage, she’s comfortable, and she’s FIVE. She’s not a tween, she’s not a teen, she’s not a woman…yet. She’s a little girl having fun hopping around to a classic tune and smiling and dancing her heart out.
The makeup removes a level of innocence. Tarting her up like a pop-star removes a level of innocence and adds a level of sex appeal. And that’s it exactly…there’s letting her play dress up, get in a costume, and then there is letting her think beautiful = dolled up whore.
I’m not letting her start that path at five. She’ll learn it soon enough and it’s all around her already…we’re not adding to that tonight.
Waiting for Obama
June 9, 2010 by 29 Comments
I can’t stop thinking about the oil disaster in the Gulf and the pundit talk about what the President should and shouldn’t be doing. Too soft, not angry, too angry, not emotional enough.. blah blah blah.
Every time I turn on my TV I see President Obama talking about the disaster, or Robert Gibbs, or I get a White House press update in my inbox. I realize they are working their asses off trying to get a handle on the line between letting a company fix its problem and taking over a disaster that impacts us all.
But there is something I’m waiting for that hasn’t happened yet…something… Obama-ish.
What am I expecting? … I’m expecting the community organizer I elected.
I want the White House to force BP’s hand, let the media in, let the President and the First Lady in and then see a major announcement for a call to action.
Imagine President Obama and his family on an oil ridden beach, with environmental leaders and scientists, calling on the country to organize and help clean. To submit their ideas, to offer their time and money. Imagine him asking us to pitch in, to do what we can, to come together as a nation to pool our resources and our smarts and our time and help.
I want the strong arm of the White House to do their work behind the scenes in the way only DC knows how…playing politics and twisting arms. But in front of the camera and to bolster our confidence, I want our country’s leader doing what he does best: calling on US to act and take part in change.
I’m waiting. My kids are waiting. We’re ready to help…lead us. Tell us how. We want to visit Nana and Gramps and feel those warm Gulf waters with our feet and feel the sand in our toes.
To hell with BP. We’ll make them pay for this entire effort, but it’s going to take everyone to save the Gulf and it’s time for the President to lead the nation in protecting our coast and water and the animals and habitat -starting with showing us what we all can do to help.
I understand there are many unanswered questions right now. So many unknowns and safety issues…but what the nation needs is its community organizer with his wife and children pitching in – and we’ll follow suit.
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