Getting across

At the beginning of the school year, C-man couldn't get across the monkey bars on his own. Today, there isn't a monkey bar set anywhere he can't do. So much so, we practically have to stop as we go by one so he can race out to it and passionately conquer it. Even on those freezing cold days like this one, that mean he has to take off his gloves and hold on to those ice cold bars that turn his hands to icy stone by the end, he feels compelled to keep going until it's accomplished. I really do admire that in him.

Thursday thirteen random things

1. Daniel Silva's next Gabriel Allon book is due out July 19th. I pre-ordered my copy using my soon-to-be expired Barnes and Noble Groupon that I'd almost forgotten about so as not to miss its release for 6 full weeks like last year.
2. Today we were notified of next year's tuition increase for C-man's school. The rationale for the increase was so the teachers could get a 1% pay increase next year. 1%?!? The worst part is I know people are going to complain about the tuition increase as they drive away in their new cars. But a paltry 1% increase for a teacher as awesome as the one C-man has? I seriously need to start giving better Christmas and end-of-year gifts!
3. I am going to complain about the once a month early-out on Fridays they're now implementing, though. Seriously?!?
4. I'm in New York next week (for work). I'm also in New Mexico next week (for fun). That's a lot of laundry and packing and airports. At least we all have the appropriate hiking pants and shoes now.
5. The place we'd picked out to stay at in Taos was accidentally double-booked, so they upgraded us to a swankier place. It also has a hot tub, and is at the end of a 3 mile dirt road. Hello, luxury hermitville! I heart you already.
6. I'm extending our stay in Taos, because of the potential impending federal government shutdown. No government = no national parks = no Carlsbad Caves, Petroglyphs or White Sands. And while they may get their heads out of their asses in time, I'd hate to be stuck without plans. Plus, it's luxury hermitville, people!
7. I sure hope none of us gets altitude sickness while we're there. That would suck. We'll be taking some chlorophyll in advance just in case.
8. I wish I'd known about chlorophyll way back when I was an exchange student. I could have saved myself a month of illness.
9. We started a travel bug and a geocoin on its journey back when we were in Florence. The geocoin got lost in Hungary somewhere. But the travel bug has now made its way back to the States, and is currently residing in Pennsylvania. I'm a little disappointed it's back in the States, because it was kind of fun watching it bop around Europe.
10. We picked up a geocoin ages and ages ago, and have been really bad and not put it back out to the world. I need to pack our GPS so we can try to drop it somewhere good while we're in New Mexico. We've been derelict in our duties, but at least once we drop it, it'll have moved somewhere significant.
11. I'm almost done with my 12-week bootcampy thing. Last night a woman who does work out loads was whining on and on about not having lost any weight during this time. When asked what she was eating, she proceeded to justify all these lavish work dinners she "had" to eat. I wanted to smack her and say, "Tell me when you've got a real problem, lady."
12. I'm officially off the rat poison stomach shots for the month because we all agreed they weren't doing a damn thing. 2 FDA-approved, non-heart attack causing medications down, 2 more to try. At least I keep it interesting for the doctors.
13. I'm really looking forward to vacation. And sun. And mountains. And checking off another state on #9 on my list.

Wordless Wednesday: Portraits of a 6 year old

Tough little daffodils

Mother Nature seems confused at what she wants to do, but the daffodils are fighting through it anyhow. I admire those tough little daffodils, fighting their way into the world in spite of the snow and hail, stretching toward where they know the sun will someday be. The true definition of faith. I kind of feel like these daffodils right now. Fighting the good fight, with each day presenting a new day of physical pain to endure. And yet, I have my faith in my son and husband. I am thankful every single day for them, for giving me that one never-failing thing to keep stretching toward, to be better for.

A favorite thing

Crazy spring

Does Mother Nature seem angry to you, too?

Hoarding

C-man loves each and every one of his stuffed animals to the point that each has its own personality; Red Fox is a bad guy, Agent T (turkey) is a secret agent, Orange Bear (aka Speedy) is the ruler of them all (a la Toy Story's Lotso) and so on.

Despite that, I think his love might be leaning toward a case of hoarding.

His 3rd quarter report card came home yesterday and was fabulous. He thought he should get another stuffed animal. I'm thinking Baskin-Robbins might be the better choice!

On strength

Me: "Wow, this sucks." (Referring to the needle being unceremoniously jammed into my stomach)

Doctor: "Yes, Jennifer, chronic diseases suck."

I was reading some of the posts on the Arthritis Foundation's Facebook page the other day. It was all about how you get others to understand what kind of pain you're in and what it's like to have a chronic disease.

Now I've been accused of a lot of things. With reference to this disease, I'm told I'm too stoic, told I shouldn't act so tough, and even that I'm "not really that sick". All things I've never quite felt fit. But because I've always subscribed to the philosophy that you just put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving forward with your life, nobody really does understand. And I know that's my fault. It's not a matter of denial, either. I know what this disease is and is doing to me. I know what degree of pain I'm in. But does it matter that someone else doesn't get it? And am I really so different from anyone else, just trying to deal with what I was dealt?

Like the woman I work with who earlier in the morning sent me an email letting me know she was going to be out for a while because she was going in for a double mastectomy the following day. Or a friend posting about how worried she was about her disabled child's breathing problems the previous night. Or the woman I work out with who'd canceled her trip to France to be with her mother who is in late stages of Alzheimers. Or the countless others who I knew were bearing burdens big and small, each in their own ways.

I physically hurt. A lot. I hurt daily. Hell, secondly. It's sometimes really pretty awful. And during those really awful times, when I hear others complain about really insignificant things or worse, playing the "Why me?" card, I admit, it can be maddeningly disheartening. And when I try medication after disgustingly expensive medication that doesn't seem to pan out, it gets really depressing. Depressing to the point that I've been seriously considering taking a medical leave from work to try to get my head back together again. (Geez, I almost can't even type that, it's so hard to think about.)

Despite all that, I'm not sure what it accomplishes to try to make others "understand" the incomprehensible. Isn't it a little like trying to explain something in Farsi to an only-English speaker? The color of the sunset to a blind woman? Convincing a Republican to think like a Democrat? Seems pretty futile to me. And at the end of the day, I'm not sure what anyone gains.

Yes, I hurt. But so do a lot of people, unfortunately. Maybe the message for all of us is just to have more compassion for and be more forgiving toward others around us. And stop complaining a little less. After all, we never know what cards the person we're saying it to has been dealt that day.

Wordless Wednesday: Dramatic battles

Rusting

Iron rusts from disuse; water loses its purity from stagnation... even so does inaction sap the vigour of the mind." - Leonardo da Vinci

I've been thinking a lot about action vs inaction these last few weeks. When is the cost of not acting more than the cost of actually doing something? Of saying something? At what point is it worth extending effort to try to move that boulder up the mountain? At what point is it just better to cut your losses and move on to the things that can actually improve?

This has been a constant topic with C-man, as he encounters other kids who may or may not be nice to others. What's the right thing to tell him? To teach him? To show him? In the end, what do I want him believing in as he grows up?

It's an incredibly poignant question right now, because I really try to trust the people around me. I want to believe they're good in their hearts. But lately, I've experienced so much selfishness, so much meanness, and such deeply rooted lies - lies I think the tellers have come to believe themselves they've been told so many times, that it's kind of rocked my foundation.

And so now with all that in mind, I sit questioning if it's worth pushing that boulder up the mountain, or if letting it roll down the hill to smash itself once it reaches the bottom of its pit is the better option.

Favorite places

We all have our favorite places to go in our lives. Those places that find the calm inside us (Praia do Futuro, Fortaleza). Places that are beautiful and great fun (Brier Island, Nova Scotia). Places that just feel right (Luzern, Switzerland). I could go on and on and on all day on my favorite places to be and go around the world, and explain why they feel good to me.

But this one pictured is one of my favorites and happens to be the one closest to home. It's only a mile from my door, and then a long, steep walk down a pretty big hill. Rain or shine, cold or hot, it's always changing and always beautiful. And it somehow always seems to mirror my mood.

I love the old, broken piers and the texture they give to the endless water. Sometimes they're pieces of my photos. Sometimes, great solid spots for me to rest my tripod while I take photos of the super moon. Sometimes they're launching pads for a crazy little boy on a hot summer day. Sometimes they're beached whales while we're explorers. And sometimes, they're nice resting spots for me to sit on while I dangle my feet in the water.


I love this place, so close to my home. It calms me. It invigorates me. It is my favorite.

Exploring

I've been POD (parent on duty) all week, while Beerman was in San Francisco. And we've had quite a week! We muddled through some friend problems at school (Let me please say here and now that once again I was shown that there really is no substitute for an amazing teacher!), made cookies, built birthday Lego ships (5 of those picky little suckers!), did homework, wrote all 28 thank you notes to generous gift givers, did some science experiments, went on nature walks, saw Rango, hung out at the library, scooted everywhere, visited a few parks, read books, made pancakes multiple times, and actually found a pair of jeans that fit him (5s are too small, but many 6s are way too big).

Whew. That was a lot of good stuff, and we still have a play to see today.

On sticks

"Hey Mom, you know what's great about a stick?"

"No, what?"

"They're awesome."

On the journey

I like finishing. (Preferably first, but that's a whole different issue.) I love the end of a book. I love the credits on a movie. I always loved the sound of my foot as I tap home plate. Finishing is incredibly gratifying to me. That whole "enjoy the journey" shtick has always kind of been lost on me. And having things open-ended or unfinished makes me totally batshit crazy

Which is why knitting can be really frustrating. Not only do projects take a long time to complete, but there are days, weeks even, when my hands won't cooperate to let me do anything at all. And during those times, I have to sit and look at my partially knitted piece of work, waiting for the day I can pick it up again.

But I like knitting a lot. I love seeing the tangible evidence of my own hands slowly take shape. I can look at something and say that I transformed that ball of yarn into something useful, and sometimes even beautiful. I love being able to give someone something, even if they don't know how much work and money it took to complete, and know that it was created by me.

Yet somewhere in this sweater project I've been knitting since the beginning of the year, I began to realize that there is something special in that metamorphosis process. I love seeing it in everyone else - my son as he grows older, the trees as they leave winter and bud into spring, the caterpillars that will be emerging soon - so why do I resist it so much? Now don't get me wrong, I'm still going to be really pleased with myself when it's all done. (And probably the heat of the summer by the time I'm done, but whatever.) But I've been able to enjoy the transformation along the way a bit better. Now if I can just develop that patience with the rest of my life.

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On a totally separate note, ring out a hoya!

Thursday thirteen things I need to stop doing

1. Getting injected with this new medicine. It now gets injected into my stomach once a week for 15 excruciating seconds. I feel like total crap after. And THEN I made the mistake of reading how they make it (from Chinese hamster ovary cells). Do I need another reason to quit?
2. Throwing my bra on the floor at night before I flop into bed. Some weeks, my bedroom could be some sort of bizarre bra art exhibit, the way they're artfully strewn everywhere. Because, of course, I'm too busy to pick them up in the morning. And then at night, another just gets added to the pile.
3. Watching Parenthood. I had such high hopes for it, but at the end of the day on a Tuesday, I don't need all that real-life awfulness to bring me down. Plus, the story line is going nowhere fast.
4. Planning on getting my nails done. Somehow, it always falls to the bottom of the list, and I end up with sketchy looking toes. I think it'd be better if I just sucked it up and realized that nails are a 6 times a year gig, tops.
5. Playing Words with Friends before bed. I wake up in the night thinking of new great words I can play.
6. Going to the book store to browse. I never just browse. And I now have about 10 books waiting to be read on my nightstand.
7. Trying to decide on the perfect color for my living room and just paint the damn thing. When the neighbor kid comes over and quizzically asks, "What is going on?", it's time.
8. Expecting Harry to not sleep on the couch. Or the bed. Instead, I need to remember it's his house we're living in.
9. Eating wheat. I did it for a month back in January, and felt amazing. Well, for me, at least. And I don't know if it's the cause, but my hair stylist freaked out at how much my hair had grown that month. I can totally tell the difference when I'm eating it. I think I just need to stop. But that's pretty hard. So maybe I just need to cut way back.
10. Hating the treadmill so much. Unfortunately, it's a bit of a necessary evil when the weather's bad, and thinking about it as grueling makes nothing better.
11. Being so short tempered. I've been feeling pretty crummy lately for a variety of reasons, but I've been taking it out where I shouldn't.
12. Getting travel magazines. They're rarely where I want to go. Or at least can afford to go. Although, the photography in them is usually amazing.
13. Drinking so much coffee. My consumption has gone through the roof, and it's not helping anything. Time to cut back. (Sob)

Wordless Wednesday: Waiting

Rainiest of days

On this, the grayest and rainiest of days; a day that I sit at a conference table above butt-ugly conference carpeting; a day that I'm wishing I were home curled up with my baby on the couch; a day that sees my hands swollen, red and useless, I thought we could all use a little sunshine.

Two hands

My dear, beautiful son. Today, you turn six. That's no longer a baby, but an age that requires the use of two hands to display it properly. Was it really six years ago that you came into this world so abruptly, butt first? (You've been doing things your way ever since.) Six years since I held you in my arms that very first time? Since you became my "just one"? My, how time passes in the blink of an eye.

While it is short in the scheme of your life, during those six years, I've learned so much more from you than I knew possible. I've learned that life shouldn't be so serious. I've learned that smashing things can be as fun as building them. I've learned that for some people, making friends is as easy as drinking water. And I've learned that it is possible to love someone else more deeply than your heart can handle.

You have great dreams of being everything, from a book illustrator to a police officer; a true testament to your thirst for learning. You are a fantastic story teller who is happiest when others are paying attention to what you have to share; something that will serve you well in the long-run. Your competitive spirit will lead you to great things, as long as you learn to leave some of that frustration behind. You let life and its events affect you deeply. And while this is at times an asset, I also hope that you learn to let go of the things you cannot control so that it does not eat away at your beautiful spirit.

But of everything you are and want to be, it is your ability to love others unconditionally that I most admire. Your desire for everyone to be friends and happy together, and your willingness to facilitate that happiness, that I find so beautiful and endearing.

There are so many things I can't wait to teach you. So many things I want you to know about and to experience. And there are so many other things I wait for you to teach me with your cute one-dimpled grin and infinitely curious ways.

My wishes for you are many. But most of all, I wish for you to know you are loved more than anyone has ever been loved. Happy birthday, my beautiful boy.

Party survivors

Sort of super

When the moon is 135 miles closer than it was the last time it was in perigee (January), what else can you do, but drag your family to the park to walk them down half icy, super steep steps that were probably built 50 years ago to Lake Michigan after dark? At least I'd remembered a flashlight.

We were at a baseball party, so missed the moonrise. And it was pretty cloudy, so I kept getting hazy pictures. But it finally broke through the clouds for a bit.

We ran into some friends who were there for the same reason as us, so did the walk with them, too. And then we ran into some tattooed guys who had a really fantastic bonfire and called them our friends too. I was thankful, because it kept the kids happy so I could take a few more photos.

Between the fire, the treacherous walk, the baseball party we'd just come from, being outside all day in the springlike air, and it being a half-hour past his bedtime, C-man fell asleep in the half mile from the park to our house.

I'm so glad winter is over.