Gratitude list

I learned long ago that there is a huge silver lining to our challenging situation. Here is my gratitude list for this trip:

Modern Medicine: We originally came to Shriners (Philadelphia) for their progressive surgical techniques for scoliosis patients. We had two goals: keep Ben's spine flexible and let it grow. We were fortunate to be selected for their care, their expertise and their mission. Dr. Betz (who innovated these techniques) and Dr. Cahill who was Ben’s first surgeon in Philly started us out on a great road. We accomplished the second of our goals largely due to Dr. Cahill’s belief in and skill with these techniques. When we met Dr. Cho in Los Angeles last November we were immediately impressed with him and felt confident that moving Ben to his care would be a positive choice. His skill, confidence, and vibrant demeanor (ok, he’s got a great smile, a great sense of humor, is an excellent communicator, and a snappy dresser) convinced us to move to the LA hospital. Being closer to home both for the pre/post-op visits and for the surgeries has made a huge difference for us. So glad to be in the care of such excellent doctors!

The Kindness of Strangers: While I was planning for this trip I was trying to find a good place to stay while Ben was in the hospital. Near the hospital but in a safe neighborhood. Affordable. Comfortable. Homey, if possible. I kept coming up short. The hospital is in a not so great neighborhood and I couldn’t find a solution that felt like a good fit and was something we could afford. That was when my friends Barbara and Madeleine told me to talk to Paula, someone I know peripherally from my days in LA teaching music at Sholem, a secular Jewish community Sunday school, and who is a friend of theirs in Sebastopol. “Ask Paula,” they both said. “She still knows lots of people in LA.” So I did. Paula put out an email one Sunday to the Sholem community and by Monday I had a response from Susan and Marc Sazer inviting me to stay in their guest room in the Larchmont neighborhood of LA. We spoke and I accepted and…a friendship was born. I am BEYOND grateful for their openheartedness in taking me in. What I got from staying with them was not only a convenient and comfortable place to stay within 10 minutes easy drive to the hospital, but, a loving, warm, and beautiful home to return to every night with friends who wanted to know how I was doing and how Ben was doing. Their dog, Goldie, was my happy companion during the three days they were gone (setting their daughter up at Sonoma State for her freshman year, happy coincidence!), greeting me the way Corgis do, so delighted to usher me through the house to my little guest cottage in the back. Goldie made me smile and kept me company. Susan gave me hugs and a welcome ear to hear of the day’s ups and downs, and Marc uncorked some great wine and grilled up some tasty lamb chops on my last night with them. I deeply believe that what you put out into the universe comes back to you…and I told Susan that they are another link in our chain. (And who could argue with the lovely coincidence of another Susan and Mark/c?)

The Kindness (and tolerance) of Relatives: My gratitude list would not be complete without a full blown kiss and hug and thank you to my aunt and uncle, Adele and Sheldon Miller. They took us in (even a couple days earlier than expected) for over a week and tried to take care of our every need (though we sometimes said, “No, Me Do It!” like toddlers). They wanted nothing more than for us to be happy and healing in their quiet and luxurious home. We got nightly runs for frozen yogurt or pizza, daily runs to Sprouts or Costco. The most comfortable beds were ours for the asking. Wide screen tv. Wifi. We spread out in every bathroom and extra bedroom. And finally, yesterday we got to jump (or wade cautiously) into their sparkling blue swimming pool (Dr. Cho gave Ben the go-ahead for that Tuesday). We enjoyed their stories, love, hugs, and tasty dinners. Thank you thank you thank you, Sheldon and Adele.

Harry Miller: While we were in LA Harry held down the fort. This is not the first time he’s stayed home while we were in LA, but it was the longest time and he was alone for most of it. Not only did he take care of himself and the whole house and all of our critters, but he did it while starting a job at the Sixth Street Playhouse making props for Spamalot, getting hired to be assistant stage manager for that show, and starting a new semester of classes at Santa Rosa Junior College. We’re so grateful to you, Harry, for doing all that for our family, and so proud of you, too.

Toby Miller: Toby was away at camp until moments before Ben and I went to LA for his surgery. We saw Toby for a couple hours in between picking him up from the Camp Tawonga bus and dropping Ben and me at Oakland Airport. After that Toby, otherwise known as Mr. Flexible and Good Natured, went on a whirlwind tour of friends and family staying with: the Boss-Talmans in San Francisco, Cousin Joel in San Francisco, the Nixons in Cloverdale, the Grovers in Oakland, and finally Nana in Oakland. I heard from him every other day or so. He missed me (us) but he did just fine and from all reports he was a good guest and fun to be around. I’m so proud of him. It’s a wonderful life skill to be able to go with the flow and be polite and accommodating and accepting of other people when you’re under some amount of stress (worrying about your brother and missing your family) for an extended period. Proud of you, Tobe.

Friends: Many, many thanks to those folks mentioned above who went out of their way to care for Toby, get him to his next caretaker, feed, clothe and entertain him, and in many ways ease my mind so completely that I had no worries about my baby. That was such a gift. Thank you all so so much.

More loving friends: To the many friends who drove way out of their way to come take care of me, of Mark and me, and Ben with goodies, companionship, and distraction during our two plus weeks here in LA: THANK YOU. You made this period almost feel like a vacation, and I so appreciate that.

Today we head back into LA to visit my lil’ sis, Jenn, and then off to the airport to return home. Looking forward to seeing my honey back at our lovely little rinky-dink Santa Rosa Airport, and all my boys back at Three Boys Farm (and yes, that includes our two cats, two mini-donkeys, and our horse). So glad to be returning with a hale, healthy and TALL middle boy. It’s been quite the time.

Ingredients for healing

Yesterday Ben and I drove into LA for his two-week post op visit with Dr. Cho. Twelve days since his spine was fused with two long titanium rods and 20 3” long titanium screws (and a few hooks thrown in for good measure). Yes, just 12 days since he became the owner of a 16" scar down his back.

 

And yet this boy was able to get in and out of the front seat of the car with ease. This boy traveled pain-free to and from the hospital, walked without assistance of any kind. Yes, this boy was doing so well, he even got on my case when I was overprotective (hey, I’m entitled).

 

Dr. Cho came into our examining room with an ear to ear grin. He had been on a vacation for the last part of our hospital stay so he’d had only reports (from his interns) to go on since he left. But what he’d heard was that Ben was a rock star: strong, healing fast, moving with confidence, low pain. AMAZING. Dr. Cho told us that Ben had bounced back faster, stronger and better than any fusion patient he’d ever seen. He’d blown away said interns. His pride and delight in Ben showed on his face.

He wanted to know our secret. What I told him was physical therapy. Ben’s been going to physical therapy for the past few years and it made a noticeable difference in his recovery from his surgeries right from the start. My belief is that, for kids who have repeat surgeries and limitations to be fully physical in their lives, physical therapy gives them a way to have a strong core, muscle flexibility and strength, and a positive self-concept. I am strong. I can do this. When you’re a kid going in and out of surgeries, like Ben was, well, then those kinds of messages can do wonders for the brain and the body.

Dr. Cho was impressed. “I think I may have to start prescribing that for my patients,” he said. “I think there’s a research paper in there.”

What I didn’t mention to Dr. Cho were some other ingredients in Ben’s success which have occurred to me only now.  

There's meditation. He's been meditating for the past couple years and I know he was meditating in the hospital, post op, blowing the physical therapist away when he told her that.

And there's his sense of humor. Ben told me he was cracking jokes with the doctors as they wheeled him into the OR, indeed continued to crack them up with stories as they were starting to put him under. That is some kind of grace under pressure, right?

But the biggest things have got to be the huge love and support from family and friends. I’ve told you of our hand-holding. I’ve told you about Ben and Mark and their amazing connection. But, I truly can’t emphasize enough how every microsecond of attention that we’ve been there for our boy has made a difference for him. Every spontaneous hug, every hand-holding moment, every incredible conversation I've had with him during these quiet days of rest and recuperation have been healing blessings for Ben (and for me, as well). Lack of stress = opportunity to heal. We were truly changed by this unfettered space and time for him and with him.

An example of the screws in Ben's spine.

Last night, after the hospital visit, we were talking about some folks we know who have no contact with their parents. Ben reached out for my hand (he still is wanting my hand to hold) and our eyes met. "Can you imagine that?" I said. "Only talking to each other once a year or never?" Ben, eyes very wide, very very wide, looked straight at me and shook his head slowly. "I don’t ever want to have a time like that with you, Mama," he said.

We have been so lucky to have been surrounded by love and compassion, so that we could give Ben exactly what he needed: Us. While we’ve been here in LA we have experienced the grace of loving kindness from strangers and family members and friends from many years gone by. The loving embrace and care of these people has made all the difference for us, made it so we could have the space (emotionally, physically, financially) to be right there for Ben as long as he needs us, made it so we can not worry about anything but healing and moving forward.

More to come with a gratitude list tomorrow morning, before we head for home.

today

Ben with Tess the day she arrived.

Today I am:

{blue} The morning feeding out in the pasture felt huge and empty without my girl Tess. It's impossible to not be reminded of her in every little thing. In time I know this will pass. But for now I am aching.

{quiet} Boys still sleeping, heavy fog outside. Weed is no longer calling for his girl. Even the birds are quiet this morning.

{planning} A long list of sewing and knitting projects ahead. Organizing my craft areas (again). A workshop I'll be teaching for new homeschoolers at the HSC conference one week from this morning.

{exhausted} From days of crying and saying good bye to my horse.

{expectant} Picking up my little one (not so little, I'll admit) from a week at camp. I'm expecting big smiles and lots of dirt!

dog days

So the problem with allowing so many weeks to pass with no updates is that when I finally do sit down to write I have too much to tell you and I fear no one will bother to read all the way through to the bitter end.

Thus, I write nothing and that nothing looms larger and larger and larger as the days pass.

Suffice it to say, I have been swamped by this dog. Zoey.

She came to us a month ago and will one day soon be moving on again, hopefully to find her forever home...a place where people are dog savvy and have the time and energy to put into her what she needs.

It's such a long story. And I hesitate to bore you with the details. (But if you really want them, they are below, at the end of this post.)

The sum total is that I like to believe she came into my life to teach me a few things and here's what I've learned so far:
*Listen to that little voice that resides over behind your right ear. The one that mentions the niggling doubts. Listen to that voice next time it says, "Hmmm. I think this isn't such a great idea."
*Make yourself first on your list for once. It's time to take care of you.
*Don't let everyone walk all over you. When you get ignored and you let it pass, you can't be happy with the outcome.
*Looks ain't everything.

Oh do I love this dog, but oooh boy this is not the right time to be care-giving for one more needy creature.

I am now facing some health issues that have been stubborn in leaving. The past four weeks with Zoey in residence I've not been able to care adequately for myself and barely for anyone else. A week ago I finally, finally realized that as much as I wanted to invest in this dog it was going to be at least a year before things calmed down and I don't have a year to put off the other important issues.

I will let you know more soon. I was just glad that I had a moment to write tonight.

**********************************************

Her name is Zoey and we brought her home four weeks ago.


As you can see, I haven't had a lot of free time on my hands to write, to think, to cook or clean or home"school" or even take a shower. It feels a lot like we adopted a toddler rather than a puppy. A toddler with sharp teeth.

She can not be left alone or she will destroy something.
She has the energy of ten men.
She is hands down the cutest dog at the dog park. She is very likely the cutest dog on the planet.
She is fast. No, I mean she is fast. In fact, when folks ask me what kind of dog she is I generally say, "She's part terrier, part speeding bullet." Yes, I say that.



And we're giving her back. Back she will go one of these days to Jon, the nice foster man who handed her over to us four weeks ago.

Our dog saga started on our lovely beach vacation in Cayucos when Ben declared that he wanted to get a dog. I told Mark, oh don't worry...this too shall pass. (Mark's not really a dog person, you see.) Ben and I got on the computer right away though, his passion for this concept running hot, and we read about dogs and watched dog videos. (An excellent homeschool research project.) We made a list of pros and cons and what kind of dog we were looking for (fully grown, not too big, sweet, mellow). At a certain point, I think it was when we got home and Ben's XBox started to look more interesting than dog books, I started to get more excited about the dog venture than Ben.

I went a few different places with my dreaming. Forgive me, but I was thinking of this dog, Ben's dog, as a way. A way out. A way of healing a boy who's had more than his fair share of pain and suffering. A way back to the boy he once was, the one who was so animal-sensitive and so physical, so in his own body. I was thinking, get this boy a dog and he will heal from all the nightmares and painful moments. So I started to push the dog concept a bit too much.

A voice in my head was definitely saying, Whoaaaaa. Hold on. Notice the boy at the XBox. Notice he is less interested than you, Mama. But I kept checking in with him and he kept telling me, Yeah, I do want a dog.

I knew better. I knew I was already maxed out with two horses, two mini-donkeys, two cats, and three boys. Oh and my wonderful, patient, forgiving, and ever-wise husband. Maxed. Out.

And yet.

I pushed on.

And we came home with this adorable terrier. The opposite of most of the qualities on our list. [Terriorists is what they call them at the dog park. And now I know why. She is so much a terrier. Rather than look up at me and ask with her brown eyes, What, o wonderous mistress, can I do to please you? She looks away from me and wonders (I can just see the wheels turning), Hmmm, how can I get this lady to do what I want?]

And just 24 hours after she came home Ben declared that he had changed his mind and he did not want this dog. He did not want any dog. He did not want the responsibility of a dog. (We talked about cold feet, new parents, etc. Didn't help.)

That was rough. All the rest of us had fallen for her, including Harry who is an avowed non-dog person. And Ben was turning his back on the whole thing.

I struggled with how to respond. After all, it was his idea. She was supposed to be his dog. He named her Zoey. What would happen if I just said no to his no? What would it mean if I said yes? And what about my hopes and dreams for them, this boy and this dog?

Well, I said no. I said, we all want this dog, maybe you don't but now the rest of us do. We started working with a trainer...that didn't go so well. My sister Mara came up and worked with me. That was wonderful...wonderful for me and Mara and wonderful results with Zoey.

But it the end it isn't enough. The reality of it all is that I don't have it in me to do this on my own. And on my own is the key. I'm the mom, so it falls to me. When Zoey became the family dog, rather than Ben's dog, the responsibility fell to me. Susie's dog. All my mama-friends with dogs have the same story at their homes. The dog is theirs.

It's hard to explain why this isn't working out. I have some health issues that have been plaguing me for months, things I've been working on correcting and have not made much headway on. Having this dog, this incredible time and energy suck of a dog (and I say that lovingly, but it just is so true) I have had to put my own stuff aside.

That is not the right choice. It can't be the right choice because my health is the key to the rest of the family's well being.

She loves us, we love her. That isn't the problem. It's really more a matter of timing.

I'm trying not to beat myself up about it. But it's hard to let her go...

scenes of summer

I haven't had a lot of trust in our technology situation of late, but finally organized some of the photos from our summer fun. Here are a few. No captions, since these photos say it all. More to come in a day or so.

 

Surgery the Sequel: Chapter Four

I was visited by a memory this morning. It swooped in on me as I trudged up the stairs after feeding the equines and cleaning the pasture, kicking off my boots in the mudroom, and padding past Ben and Toby sitting on a window seat happily engrossed in a game of Magic: The Gathering.

The memory is this: I am sitting on our cushy love seat, Toby tucked in close on one side, Ben on the other. It is the day after Ben has finally, FINALLY come home from the hospital after having four surgeries for Chiari I malformation, two months to the day since the first surgery took place. I am feeling that I never ever want to be away from my children. I want to keep them home, next to me, safe. Whatever it takes.

Deja vu.

Ben is home again, and he is almost pain-free. He appears lighter in body and spirit. He is calm and even. Happy, considerate, grateful, mellow. He has focused on Toby and playing with Toby all day, much to Toby's intense happiness. The baby brother really REALLY missed the older one.

Driving Ben home from the airport last night we talked about being apart from each other while he was in Philly. "I'm going with you next time," I said.

Silence.

"Weeeeell, I don't think so, Mama," Ben said. "Daddy can move me, help me get up, reposition me," he paused, "I really need him for surgeries...and he doesn't mind helping me pee into a bottle."

Well huh. I protested a bit. ("I don't mind helping with the pee bottle!") But, I guess I can handle this.

I just want everyone to know that we're all lighter here today. We're at peace because our Benny is doing so well. Mark's coming home early from work, it's Make-Your-Own-Burrito night for dinner, and the piles of dirty laundry are scattered in front of the laundry room door. Life is getting back to normal.

But next time (9 months from now, according to Ben's surgeon), next time I'm going with him. (Anyone know of a place that I can order an extra large duffle bag from?)

Surgery the Sequel: Chapter Three

A Yin and Yang Afternoon

Today Toby and I attended a picnic celebrating our friend James, a 17 year old Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma survivor. He was diagnosed with the disease at the turn of the year. He is one of Harry's friends and his mom, Sarah, is one of my dearest buds. This year he had chemo and radiation, lost all his hair, grew it back, and now is in the clear. The party was a thank you from Sarah and James' whole family out to their community for all the blessings and pots of soup and nights someone let the cat out and hugs that had been bestowed upon James' family this year.

I knew quite a few folks, mostly from our days at Harmony School in Occidental. People who know me and my kids and were actually around when Ben had his first serious experience with surgery, brain surgery, over four years ago. Of course, these folks want to know how Ben is and so, I told them. Mostly they were shocked to hear he was back in Philly for another surgery. It's like whiplash how fast the turn around was for this one.

At one point I stood with a few moms who were there for me four plus years ago. Moms who drove down to Oakland to take me out to dinner after Ben had been in the hospital for seven weeks, had had three surgeries and still wasn't healing. They all piled in a car and drove down to take me out for a diversionary dinner at which I learned that not only was I not the only one with a kid who'd spent time in the hospital, but every single one of us had a kid who at one time or another had spent time in the hospital. Every. Single. One.

Toby and I had another stop today. We were attending a gathering at our friends Anna and Dennis' home. Anna fought breast cancer two years ago and they just found four more tumors in her chest. So we gathered to bless her with our words, prayers and songs. I had my guitar with me and I led the group in some beautiful melodies of hope and healing.

Yesterday, just a day after Ben's surgery I felt such overwhelming lack of ambition. I was deflated, like a popped balloon. Looking back over the few weeks preceding the surgery I could add up the anxiety, the anticipation, the dread, the desire for it all to be over. And following that crescendo, Friday the surgery came and went in such a blur (I was truly asleep for most of it) and the relief was so strong to have come through, that Ben was okay, that it was over. The day after is always the day after. It's not a cliche for nothing. My day after was not so horrible, I suppose, but it still took me a bit by surprise.

As Toby and I were leaving James' picnic we got a call from Ben who had spent the whole day in pain. For some reason today was a hard day, but I've been told the third day after surgery is hard. That was today. Full of pain. (Have I mentioned how much I hate being on the other side of the country from my baby who is in pain?) He spent the day in bed. Grandma Joyce came to visit from New York. Dan the concierge brought him a popscicle. He's got his meds, so they're dealing with it. But, sheesh, I'm so tired of the pain...and it's not even mine.


I suppose I tell you all of this because we talked about blessings today at Anna and Dennis'. And Sarah's party was all about gratitude. And truly, when I have some energy I am so totally grateful for my friends, for hugs, for the popscicles and emails the blessings we get from our communities.

But in order to really see the blessings, there seems to be so much pain. Months of chemo or surgical wounds healing. Tears shed by a little brother missing his big brother while he's away. The anxiety and anger that fills my stomach as we wait to hear the results of a test. It feels like too much at times. And yet, I realize it's what life is all about. Every single one of us has wounds and loss and grief and where would we be without each other?

So, thank you for caring about me and thank you for accepting my songs of healing. This is not the end of my story, but I have a sniffly child sitting next to me who needs a hug.

Surgery the Sequel: Chapter One

...departures and arrivals...

Ben and Mark left yesterday for Philadelphia. Toby, Harry and I waved and blew kisses from the doorway (ok, I blew kisses and Harry and Toby yelled, "Bye! Buh-bye now! So long! Have a great trip!") and then turned, breathed a sigh of relief and went back into the house.

The anticipation truly was terrible, but the reality was a relief.

The night before Toby was so anxious he could barely sleep, had nightmares about zombies and ultimately threw up. Mark, downstairs sleeping in Toby's bedroom to provide some degree of comfort, took care of the situation but didn't get much sleep himself. I was upstairs listening and then panic-stricken that Toby had the flu, had infected Ben and Mark and that they would either wake up with symptoms or arrive at Shriners on Friday barfing their guts out. Lovely image. I didn't get much sleep.

Ben, tucked in warmly next to me in bed, slept soundly.

In the morning, Mark and I refigured our plans for airport delivery. Rather than my driving them down to the airport shuttle he decided to drive them all the way to the airport giving them time stop in Chinatown (Oakland) for goodies for their flights. This also gave us time to make sure Toby was truly not sick. (He was fine!) And because we'd arisen for an earlier time commitment that left us with literally two hours to kill.

When Ben heard "Chinatown" he leaped out of bed and ran to get dressed. (Steamed pork buns and sticky sweet rice cakes are super motivating for my kids.) That done, he asked to play a game with me. So, out came the board games...and up until the minute they left the house the whole family sat on the floor playing Scrabble.

No fighting. No bickering. No whining or crying or hiding away with electronic toys. Pure, good old fashioned family togetherness.

A group hug of three brothers and they were out the door.

Throughout the day I received texts and phone calls from the wonderful folks at the Ritz-Carlton, making sure every "i" was dotted and every "t" was crossed in order for Ben to have the best possible experience. I heard from Kimberly, the Medical/Business Liason, who was on vacation. Kimberly, enjoy yourself!

And I heard from my boys. They called from Oakland International. They called from Phoenix. They called from Philadelphia when they were waiting to "deplane." Their day of flying across country was perfect. (Lots of cute babies, according to our baby lover, Ben.) He was in excellent spirits. They arrived at the RC after midnight and found they had the SAME room we had in February with the additional bonus of chocolates, cookies and cold milk waiting for them.

This morning they received hugs from old friends: Violetta (our housekeeper), James (the concierge), and Kylie (from the front desk in February, but who's been promoted to Guest Relations), and had breakfast at Dan(the concierge)'s favorite cafe around the corner.

Mark reports that Ben's comment upon awaking today was: "I think this time it will be easy."

Crossing my fingers, crossing my fingers.

The Kindness of Strangers...and others

I must have a look on my face right now. Gray clouds, lines of worry on my brow. A complete and total stranger asked me if I would like a hug just a moment ago.

Picking up a travel game and a cup of iced coffee at a local book store I was asked by the man behind the cash register how I was doing and, of course, I told the truth, never one to just say “Fine” and be done with it.

“Oh, it’s a challenging day,” I said, darkly, I suppose.

“What’s going on?” He asked me. And I told him.

“My son’s having surgery at the end of the week and it’s just difficult leading up to it,” I said. Wondering why I was sharing with a total stranger. What’s the point, really?

Turns out his nephew had three surgeries for scoliosis as a young child and is doing great now. He passed me my iced coffee. “Well, I hope it all works out for your son,” he said.

“It will,” I assured him/me. “It’s just difficult as it all comes bearing down,” I ended. I turned away, moving towards the side counter to add cream and pop on a cover.

He looked at me over the espresson machine on the other side of the counter. “Do you want a hug?” he asked.

Wow.

I turned him down with a smile, knowing I will soon be amongst some of my best friends at a homeschool park day and then later on the couch at our therapist’s office. It’s a day of many hugs both virtual and actual. Thankfully.

It’s Tuesday, just one day before Ben and Mark take off for Philadelphia. In less than a week Ben’s surgery will be over and he will be feeling fine, most likely. But the lead up, the waiting, the uncomfortable expectation is so difficult for all of us. This morning Ben’s first words to me after arising from bed were, “I don’t feel good.”

“What’s up?” I asked knowing it could be therapist-itis, post-playdate exhaustion, or pre-surgery blues. It was the latter. “I want a different back,” he said.

Poor guy. It’s hard to shake those blues.

The good news is I was able to arrange with the chef at Sur la Table to rearrange her curriculum to accommodate Ben’s schedule so he could take make up classes today and tomorrow (having missed two days of cooking camp a couple weeks ago due to a cold) before leaving on his journey. I dropped him off this morning in the store’s kitchen where he stood shyly eyeing the pretty teenage girls on the other side of the table as well as the pasta machines piled on the class’s work tables. “Good food and women,” I overheard him telling some friends the other day, “that’s all I need!” I predict his needs will get met this morning.

I haven’t done a very good job of predicting our needs presurgery with these most recent two. Of course, when he had his brain surgery four and a half years ago it all happened so fast I didn’t have time to prepare us. Boom, bang, bop. It was upon us. But this time and the last I had months to mark off the calendar or think about what we’d need and be going through.

As it happened, I was off the mark repeatedly. For the surgery in February I had no clue that in the two weeks leading up to the surgery I would be a germ’s worst nightmare and an absolute freak on an antibacterial crusade. We had all sorts of plans, all ultimately cancelled, during that time period that involved sitting in crowded theaters with hundreds of coughing, innocent but germ-infested citizens, or playdates with children with runny noses. I didn’t even contemplate all the germs we’d potentially encounter on the plane flight back east or the train ride from NY to Philly. It’s amazing we survived without mishap.

This time we had to take a surgery date that conflicted with a camping trip with other homeschoolers in Yosemite. I thought, “Great, one parent will go with Ben, one with the other boys.” Neat and tidy. He picked Mark to join him (“Mom’s my emotion parent, Dad’s my hospital parent.” Logical enough.) and so that was that. I was going to Yosemite. But as the time has approached not only have I grappled with the anxiety that is rolling over me about not being near him while he’s in surgery, but I realized that I will not be sleeping a lot while he’s gone, that I’d have to be focused on getting the rest of us packed up for a challenging camping trip at 9000 feet, and that once I’m in Yosemite I would be out of cell range and unable to talk to him. Clearly, this was not going to work.

I’ve rearranged things now so that Harry will be going on the trip with my good friend Laura and her son, Harry’s friend Wyatt. He’ll get the forest time he needs, attending Yosemite Institute naturalist programming for four days, surrounded by our homeschool friends the whole time. Toby and I have chosen to stay back, close to the phone, our critters and our burgeoning garden. We’ll be spending some happy and distracting time in Santa Cruz with my sister-in-law Sharon and her husband, Alan, as well. No one questioned my last minute change of plans. In fact, all of my friends agreed I was making the right decision. But the stress is much reduced.

I got an email last week from my pen-pal Rona, my emissary of immense good will from Philadelphia. Rona contacted me about a week after we’d returned from Philly in March. The mother of our beloved Dan the concierge, she had read my whole blog (Hi Rona, I know you’re reading this!!) and heard all about us and offered not only her friendship but her love and care of our family. She told me that their family was our adopted Philadelphia family and we embraced her right back. She and her husband will be taking Ben and Mark around Philly on Thursday for a (distracting and) fun tour of their city. I’m just sorry to miss the meeting.

So we are embraced. Embraced at the cash register at Copperfield’s Books, embraced by the cooking teacher at Sur la Table, embraced by our friends and relatives, original and adopted.

I’ll keep you posted.

p.s. I apologize for the lack of photos of late. Having some major technical difficulties here in my house full of IT personnel. Hope to have things ironed out in a week or two.

Sick Day

To be sure, life has not given me many opportunities to sit still of late. But today I am quiet with the tail end of a cold, the boys are tucked away nose to the screen, I'm sure, with Pokemon or Firefly or Team Fortress 2. I don't have the energy to argue, and besides, it gives me a chance to update my blog!

Both Harry and Toby returned last Sunday from weeks away at Camp Tawonga. Harry was there for three weeks as a Specialist in Training. It was energizing and fun, full of new friendships, inside jokes and new responsibilities. He seems to have thrived in so many ways while there and plans to return next year to do it again. Toby also loved camp, but he says not as much as last year. Hard to believe since his big brother was there as a staff member at the same time, but this is what he says. Harry also related to me that Toby seemed homesick a lot, even into the second week, which surprised me. Maybe it's hard to go back the second year when you have been envisioning it as a repeat of the first wonderful camp experience. Maybe it just can't live up to that memory. Anyhow, he's still talking about "next year" when he goes back, so it wasn't bad.

On this end, it is good having them home and after the initial bumpy "reentry" period life seems to be back to normal.

Ben had a particularly hard time accepting their return. Life as an only child for my middle son was quite sweet! He and I travelled to LA to visit Papa Joel and many cousins two weeks ago. We stayed at the Best Western Sunset Plaza on the Sunset Strip. The hotel had a lovely pool. Got to have an eyeful of the babes du cosmetic surgery lining the pool's edge, too. I'm sorry, but boobs just don't come like that naturally! (Ok, so I've truly become a cornpone, living in the country as I do, gray hair, no make up and definitely, no cosmetic surgery for me! I just think bodies look better au natural.) We had a good trip, saw lots of family and friends in a very short time, and spent some quality time together, too.

Last week Ben and I went camping in Mendocino with several other moms and kids. The kids played LARP (I've mentioned this before, Live Action Role Play with foam weapons, etc.) and the moms hung out together. It was a fantastic week. The moms really bonded and the boys had amazing adventures for three days straight.

Most challenging for Ben was the pain he has begun to feel as his curve gets worse. The downside of the adjustable rod technique is that while he grows it holds his spine down and it seems Ben was feeling more aches, more muscle spasms and less flexibility during his heavy play. This was new. He'd been very active until recently with both LARP and swimming. But, the length of the days playing, the intensity of the play, and the constant bashing of swords against brace and body took their toll. By the middle of the second day he was in excruciating pain.

Face white as a sheet I took him into our tent, laid him down and tried to soothe him with word and touch. Not much helped. His mood became very dark. These are such difficult days for Ben. I recall the time, in the months before his February surgery, he hid in his closet crying and wanting to kill himself. Again, he has hit the bottom, wanting to trade in his life for another issue. Being unable to engage in his favorite activity took everything out of him. "I hurt," he told me as we sat in the warm tent. "Where is the pain? Can I massage that spot?" I ask him naively. "No, Mom. I HURT. Inside. All of me." I am blown away by his ability to talk about that emotional pain. His sharing it with me. I ended up just sitting, quietly, waiting for the hurt to get more fuzzy as his energy returned.

Eventually, he went back to play with the other LARPers. He had struggled with wanting people to know his situation and wanting no one to know. Wanting accomodations and not wanting to do anything different. It's a hard line to walk. Sitting in the tent we had talked about the challenges everyone faces, that he is not alone in facing demons, overcoming obstacles to just living life. In a group of homeschoolers it's easier to find the kids with issues, of course. We tend to be a self-selected group of square pegs! But that is excellent. Especially for my boy who up until he turned 8 lived a golden life in which it all came so easily to him. Not much easy these days.

The next surgery cannot come soon enough. Two weeks and a couple days from now. He is brewing a cold, which I pray does not blossom. Any respirartory ailment could cause the surgery date to be postponed and that could mean waiting until October! I don't actually think he could do it, the pains being as severe as they are. So he is in bed, sipping chicken broth and watching movies on Netflix instant download.

I will be taking the boys camping on Sunday for a few days with our new homeschool crowd, a group of very wonderful moms and kids all seeking deeper commitments and relationships in our community. We're again going up to the Navarro River in Mendocino county, but this time just to lounge, play in the river, hike around, and roast marshmallows at night. We're packing our board games, knitting, foam weapons, and nerf guns. How well rounded!

When we return we'll be packing Ben and Mark for the journey to Philadelphia. I'm putting that aside for the moment. It's a lot to hold on to, you know?

A wedding

I went to a wedding yesterday. It felt like a milestone for me, but of course, I was only an innocent bystander. Jasmine, the bride. Now it was a milestone for her.

I was weepy all day. In fact, I was a wreck. I cried on and off the whole two hour drive down to Walnut Creek. I cried as I sat waiting for the festivities to begin. I cried every time I hugged that girl. So much emotion welled up in me. I was holding some powerful personal history in my heart that day.

On the way down Mark made sure I was wearing waterproof mascara. He's so thoughtful, for a boy! He even carried the kleenex for me.

Jasmine, as you may recall from a previous post, was a student in my class 23 years ago. I was her 4th and 5th grade teacher and she still calls me that when she's introducing me to her friends.

Towards the end of the wedding we were hugging goodbye and she grabbed the photographer to have him take a picture of us together. "This is my 4th grade teacher," she told him, as if that would express the significance of our connection.

He did seem to get it, though. "Wow," he said, eyebrows raised. I suppose most people's 4th grade teachers don't attend their weddings.

Jasmine's mom, Gina, and I had a bit of a love fest. Lots of hugs, lots of memories and tears, too. Gina was Jasmine's rock and I told her that. (Like teachers, moms often don't get the credit they deserve, I think.) Gina stood out from a lot of the moms I encountered in Vallejo. She was there in the background, working hard, making sure her kids knew that she thought their education was important. Jasmine's dad was not a part of the picture then or now, but her brothers and mom were. At the wedding her younger brother Julian walked her halfway down the aisle, and her older brother Jimmy took her the rest of the way, to the altar and then "gave her away."

Gina told me what I've meant to Jazz. More than a teacher, more than a friend. I honestly can't put into words what our relationship has meant to me. Gina didn't seem to mind calling it "like a daughter" and she's right. "You've watched her grow up," she said. And that's true. I remember Jasmine when she first came into my classroom. A sweet and somewhat spacey kid. I remember her performance as a possessed girl in our simulation of the Salem Witch Trials (!). I remember reading with her, singing with her, watching her play dodgeball at P.E. I introduced her to the beach and bagels and horses. And I remember visiting with her as a high school student, talking about the future, hoping to instill in her a sense of importance about her future and what she could make of herself.

I give Jasmine the credit for the connection she and Chanel and I still have. Without Jasmine as the glue, and sometimes the detective (there were years when I just couldn't find Chanel and Jasmine would ask around their extended group of old friends until she found her or at least found out that she was okay), I don't know if I would have had the joy of being a part of her celebration yesterday or Chanel's baby's birth in April. Thankfully, she has always been very good at keeping in touch.

When I think back on the Jasmine I knew in 4th grade, she looks a lot like the girl above. Gorgeous smile, full of fun, sweetness and a sense of humor. And what a sense of style! (This was one gorgeous wedding!) Jasmine is goodness. Her heart is full of love. I love that about this photo, I just want to hug that girl!

Jazz met Clinton, her handsome husband, when they were in grade school, but since he's a few years older than she I didn't have the pleasure of meeting him until they began dating about 10 years ago. She'd had a crush on him forever, but it wasn't until after he came home from college, Grambling State University in Louisiana, they finally started dating.

Things were going great and then one day in a horrible downpour, Clinton was in a car wreck on the highway. He was paralyzed from the waist down and was told he'd never walk again. Seriously, you read about things like this. But here they were, this young couple, and a tragedy of epic proportions hits.

Jasmine was his rock. I watched as she hung in there with him through the hospital stay and his recovery. I watched their commitment grow, too. Having gone through recoveries in my own family, I know that this road is not smooth. Jazz and I had many conversations about commitment, marriage, feelings, communication, and faith during those years. This was no fairy tale, this was gritty real life. But they persevered.

Today Clinton's walking. They have a beautiful little girl, Amora. And they're married.

Mark and I were honored to be included in the celebration of their past and their future. It was a beautiful day.

I'll leave you with a few images of the event.

Crafty Girls

My niece, Eliana, age 9, is coming over today to quilt with me. I can't wait! I'm sending Mark off with the boys. Clear the house out. I believe he's taking them to the dump (and the awesome dump store!). A day for just us girls.  (Now doesn't that sound like divisions down gender lines? I must admit, however, I enjoy a trip to the dumpstore, as well.) My sister may hang out too, which would be fun! This is the second time we've done this together. I love that she can come up to our "farmlette," play with the boys, play with the horses and donkeys, and craft with me. She's also a great reader and usually gravitates to our sunny booknook at some point in the visit. Seems like we have the potential for some great memories there.

For our project today I've been collecting "vintage" bedsheets and bedspreads (I say that with a smile, since I'm not really sure how old some of them are, mostly from the 70's, I think) to make picnic blankets. The project is from Amanda Soule's wonderful book Handmade Home. I will post photos as we go today, I hope!

This is the top of my picnic blanket which I prepared ahead of time.

Midway thru we stopped for a biscotti break, our reward for all of our hard work!

Eli wanted to hide a penguin in the blanket. Here her cousins are searching for it. (She found out that my sewing machine will embroider a penguin, so she couldn't pass it up.)

The penguin.

Last views of London

Big Ben

I'm already home, feeling the surreal time warp one experiences with air travel. Here today, gone tomorrow. Odd that just two mornings ago I was driving on the left side of the road in the back of a classic black London cab and yesterday I was on the right side, driving my own minivan to the Santa Rosa farmer's market with the boys. Whew!

My whirlwind week in London was wonderful, emotional, and too short. Erica and I had many heartfelt talks, some easier than others, and got to know each other better. This was one of my goals for the trip. Our lives have been so disjointed until now, and as much as I had dreamt of a seamless reunion, of course reality is that the joy is mixed with pain. It's almost impossible for us to connect or reconnect without touching on some of the hardest and most difficult memories and experiences of our own lives. We have 18 years separating us in age and thousands of miles in distance. I think we both wish we could have another chance to be together, to learn from each other and to know each other. Unfortunately, that seems like a slim chance, and that knowledge made the week feel even shorter.  I spoke with her yesterday morning and we both agreed it seemed almost like a dream, here and gone in a wisp. The only evidence of my presence there in that sweet brick cottage was a stack of knitted gifts and the fact that she now knows how to knit as well! (She was quite the enthusiastic student.)

Spending time with Gabi was another goal, of course, and that was pure sweetness. She is the easiest, happiest, and calmest baby I've ever met. Not to mention being one of the cutest, of course! And, man, does she look good in that hat!

Marylebone

I spent three days tooling around London proper; one by myself and two with Erica, Mike and Gabi. London is so full of culture I imagine you could live there for years without really seeing everything. Sunday M and E drove me all over town to just see as much as possible. We did stop in Marylebone, a fairly posh neighborhood that housed some great restaurants and shops.  Visited the Cath Kidston store and went into a cutsie pink coma (that stuff is great in small doses I decided...a whole store was a bit MUCH). I loved seeing Big Ben, the Parliament, and Westminster Abbey even as we drove by in the quintessential London drizzle. And we ended the day in Notting Hill where M and E insisted we visit their favorite cupcake shop to allay our low blood sugar. Monday we took Gabi to her first museum...the British Museum...and I saw the Rosetta Stone and Cleopatra's mummy, to name a couple amazing archeological treasures housed there. I could barely stand it without the boys at my side, so much was there that they would have loved!

Tuesday came 'round with alarming speed, and saw me hugging and kissing everyone goodbye. Then working my way through Heathrow and back on a plane to the states (this time, though, I was smart enough to pay the $50 upcharge to get more legroom...well worth it! I actually ended up with three seats to myself!). The boys (all 4) were quite happy to see me again and I have to admit I almost cried when the customs agent said, "Welcome home." Homesick?

I've been the recipient of many heartfelt "I missed you Mama"'s and tender hugs from all of them. And I have noticed an increase in the civility between them. Maybe a bit of a break from each other is a good thing now and then. Hmmmm...where should I go next?

I now have dreams, however, of returning to the UK with family in tow. There are quite a few castles, museums, and ruins I'd like us all to explore, not to mention Platform 9 and 3/4.

Kings Cross Station

The boys need to know their little cousin and she needs to know them, as well.

But for now I have these photo memories...enjoy!

Regent Street

Parliament in the rain.

Looking across the Thames to London Bridge.

The enclosed atrium at the British Museum.

A church spire in a London suburb.