Please don't turn me into a toad.
Okay, but make me a pretty toad.
Stop, I changed my mind.
I'd like to be a....Hummingbird.Monday, July 14, 2008
Magic
Please don't turn me into a toad. Okay, but make me a pretty toad. Stop, I changed my mind. I'd like to be a....Hummingbird.
Froggy, seizures, and a day at the beach...
Auntie Heder and Froggy
Grandma W and the Frog
Grandpa J and Froggydadda
Aunt A and Uncle B
Heder and Froggy
Cousin A and SissysnuggiekinsWe had our appt. with Froggy's Neurologist. She decided to increase both of Froggy's seizure meds. And get this, Froggy weighed in at 29 pounds! When did this happen? Woo hoo!!!!!!!!
Hopefully this will help. The last few nights have been tough. Her eyes are deviating and that makes it difficult to sleep. So our nights have been long...
Last weekend, we drove to Laguna for a day with the family. FD's cousin and family were here from Washington, and it was wonderful seeing everyone. Aunt Robin organized the event and this was the first time her three boys were together with the family in years. I didn't get great pictures, because I was too busy enjoying having other people chase after my kid. Yes, that is the true joy of getting together with family.
Froggy loves the ocean and has no fear. Last weekend when we were in Laguna, and we were trying to get her out of the water, she looked up at me and said, "But mommy, I am happy here." Can't argue with that.
Hopefully this will help. The last few nights have been tough. Her eyes are deviating and that makes it difficult to sleep. So our nights have been long...
Last weekend, we drove to Laguna for a day with the family. FD's cousin and family were here from Washington, and it was wonderful seeing everyone. Aunt Robin organized the event and this was the first time her three boys were together with the family in years. I didn't get great pictures, because I was too busy enjoying having other people chase after my kid. Yes, that is the true joy of getting together with family.
Froggy loves the ocean and has no fear. Last weekend when we were in Laguna, and we were trying to get her out of the water, she looked up at me and said, "But mommy, I am happy here." Can't argue with that.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Froggyisms Galore
Froggy likes to help change the bedsheets. She's almost as helpful as our cats, who pounce under and crawl to the edge, inevitably getting stuck like it's the Bermuda Triangle, struggling to find their way out of a bed that never ends. So here's the scene:
Froggymama takes sheets off bed, and hears naughty toddler in other room torturing a sweet Pomeranian with her Barbie brush. FM regrettably says:
FM: Froggy, come help me change the bed.
Froggy: (enthusiastically) Okay MAMA!!!
Every time FM tucks the sheet under the bed, Froggy methodically pulls it out, laughing maniacally.
Froggymama playfully pulls the covers so Froggy falls on the bed. Giggles ensue.
FM: Okay, now smooth out the wrinkles.
Froggy: Smooth, smooth, smoooooooooooooooooooooth!
Froggy very carefully smooths out every wrinkle.
Froggy: There. (pause) Now we can jump on it.
End scene.
Froggymama walks into the bedroom to find Froggy up on Daddy's dresser with an open bottle of baby lotion. Her fingers are covered and she's smearing the lotion on the wall.
FM: Froggy, stop that!
Froggy: I'm decorating.
Froggy continues to smear lotion on the wall while saying,
Froggy: Hmmm absolutely. Decorating. Absolutely.
End scene.
While running errands, we pull into the parking lot of our local health foods store.
Froggy: Where are we Mama?
FM: Rainbow Acres.
Froggy: Is there candy and toys?
End scene.
Froggymama and Froggy are snuggling in bed. Froggy passes gas.
FM: What was that?
Froggy: A toot.
Froggy hops out of bed.
FM: Where are you going stinky buns?
Froggy runs out of the room, closes the door behind her, locking FM in, and giggles.
Froggymama: Who's there?
Froggy: Stinky buns.
End Scene.
Froggy does not splash in the tub, she splooshes. For example, "Don't sploosh me Mama!" or "I got splooshed."
While Froggy and I sang "Old MacDonald" the other day, I thought I'd mix it up a bit. One gets bored singing only about cows and sheep. So when we got to the "And on his farm he had a...." I blurted out "KANGAROOOO!" Froggy turned to me very seriously and said, "Mama, kangaroos don't live on farms." Holding back laughter, I said to my very serious child, "Oh yeah, well where do they live?" The tone of her reply was as if I were the most ridiculous person alive, "In the grass, mama." Like duh.
Froggy sits on the sofa playing with two quarters. Froggymama walks by. Froggy holds up one of the quarters.
Froggy: I choked on that.
Froggymama: Lovely.
End scene.
I'm trying to teach Froggy to be a good dog owner and that it's important Buddy listen to her on our walks. I don't know why, because the dog only listens to FD, but oh well. So on our walks I tell her to slap her knee and say, "Come Buddy come!" And then theoretically, he is supposed to come. Sometimes he obeys, most of the time, he pees on a bush.
The other day, Froggy wanted me to join her in the living room while I was doing dishes. From the other room I hear her slapping her leg, while saying, "Come Mommy, come." And of course I did.
Froggymama takes sheets off bed, and hears naughty toddler in other room torturing a sweet Pomeranian with her Barbie brush. FM regrettably says:
FM: Froggy, come help me change the bed.
Froggy: (enthusiastically) Okay MAMA!!!
Every time FM tucks the sheet under the bed, Froggy methodically pulls it out, laughing maniacally.
Froggymama playfully pulls the covers so Froggy falls on the bed. Giggles ensue.
FM: Okay, now smooth out the wrinkles.
Froggy: Smooth, smooth, smoooooooooooooooooooooth!
Froggy very carefully smooths out every wrinkle.
Froggy: There. (pause) Now we can jump on it.
End scene.
Froggymama walks into the bedroom to find Froggy up on Daddy's dresser with an open bottle of baby lotion. Her fingers are covered and she's smearing the lotion on the wall.
FM: Froggy, stop that!
Froggy: I'm decorating.
Froggy continues to smear lotion on the wall while saying,
Froggy: Hmmm absolutely. Decorating. Absolutely.
End scene.
While running errands, we pull into the parking lot of our local health foods store.
Froggy: Where are we Mama?
FM: Rainbow Acres.
Froggy: Is there candy and toys?
End scene.
Froggymama and Froggy are snuggling in bed. Froggy passes gas.
FM: What was that?
Froggy: A toot.
Froggy hops out of bed.
FM: Where are you going stinky buns?
Froggy runs out of the room, closes the door behind her, locking FM in, and giggles.
Froggymama: Who's there?
Froggy: Stinky buns.
End Scene.
Froggy does not splash in the tub, she splooshes. For example, "Don't sploosh me Mama!" or "I got splooshed."
While Froggy and I sang "Old MacDonald" the other day, I thought I'd mix it up a bit. One gets bored singing only about cows and sheep. So when we got to the "And on his farm he had a...." I blurted out "KANGAROOOO!" Froggy turned to me very seriously and said, "Mama, kangaroos don't live on farms." Holding back laughter, I said to my very serious child, "Oh yeah, well where do they live?" The tone of her reply was as if I were the most ridiculous person alive, "In the grass, mama." Like duh.
Froggy sits on the sofa playing with two quarters. Froggymama walks by. Froggy holds up one of the quarters.
Froggy: I choked on that.
Froggymama: Lovely.
End scene.
I'm trying to teach Froggy to be a good dog owner and that it's important Buddy listen to her on our walks. I don't know why, because the dog only listens to FD, but oh well. So on our walks I tell her to slap her knee and say, "Come Buddy come!" And then theoretically, he is supposed to come. Sometimes he obeys, most of the time, he pees on a bush.
The other day, Froggy wanted me to join her in the living room while I was doing dishes. From the other room I hear her slapping her leg, while saying, "Come Mommy, come." And of course I did.
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Ebb and Flow
A good friend once told me that when one part of your life goes right, inevitably another part falls apart.
Froggy's seizures are back. FD and I noticed that every once in while, her eyes lose control and roll back in her head. It started this week. We both wanted to believe that it wasn't happening again. But it is.
Today, it took me three hours to put Froggy down for her nap. Whenever she was on the verge of sleep, her eyes would roll back, and she'd instantly awaken, pumped up and ready to keep fighting.
I was exhausted and angry that on top of CF, we have to deal with Epilepsy. It's so unfair, I could punch someone. Speaking of punching someone... In the middle of trying to put Froggy down, I heard a knock at the door. Buddy started barking wildly, and I was instantly annoyed, thinking, "It better be UPS with her Pulmozyme!"
I opened the screen, while our attack Pomeranian howled, to find two polite little Mormon girls with their nametags, and skirts. I said, "I'm sorry, my baby is sleeping," and closed the door on their sweet little faces. It could not have been more ironic. The last three hours I was blaming God for Froggy's seizures, saying, "Pick on somebody your own size!," and then these two angelic kids show up at my door. Had I really embraced my bitter self, I would have invited them in for tea and told them to go to college before settling down and popping out 10 kids.
They were the most innocent and adorable girls and I still wanted to smack them silly for bothering me in the midst of my mental breakdown. I mean honestly, what could two eighteen year old girls teach me about life? What pearls of wisdom have they stored up in highschool that I haven't learned in LA, in college, in motherhood? I'm sure their hearts are in the right place, but it's a little condescending when a couple of teenagers knock on my door interrupting my life to teach me about the meaning of life. I mean, geez, I'm too busy living to comprehend the meaning of it all! Maybe they should start sending people in their 30's or 40's, because we could at the very least chat about wrinkles and sleep deprivation, let alone God and the meaning of life!
Three hours later, Froggy succumbed to sleep, and "Hummingbird's" mama came over to babysit. Today was the day we recorded our radio show, "Motherhood Unplugged" on KPFK, and I had a long drive to the valley.
The recording was wonderful, but I was totally humbled by the other writers. The segment is an hour-long program about motherhood, told through story and song. The other women who spoke were all famous storytellers, musicians, comedians, and authors. I truly felt that my essay paled in comparison to the others, but the host, Amy Simon said that I had a great voice for radio and totally bolstered my ego. After hearing the other mamas read, it was, like I said, humbling and wonderful to share this experience.
The airtime has changed. It is now July 19th at 7am (Pacific time). It's not a great airtime, but this is a brand new segment and we'll need to prove our worth. Which means, you all have to listen, then call the station and say that this is the BEST show you've ever heard!!!
I listen to KPFK all the time and I can honestly say that this is a great show!
And tonight, while feeling the excitement of "Motherhood Unplugged", I was again humbled. These moms may not have knocked on my door to enlighten me about the world, but I was moved by their honest and heartfelt experiences.
Tomorrow, I'll call the neurologist and hopefully we'll figure out a new med dose to control her seizures. Tonight, while rocking Froggy to sleep, I said a silent prayer, "Please just let her be okay, I'll give anything." And I would.
As a single, young woman I would have done almost anything for success, and now, I would do anything to keep my daughter healthy. Everything else is just fluff. And maybe I sound like a jerk, but when someone can knock on my door and tell me why our Froggy was given CF and Epilepsy, I'll answer. Until then, we're too busy living to talk about why we're...living.
Froggy's seizures are back. FD and I noticed that every once in while, her eyes lose control and roll back in her head. It started this week. We both wanted to believe that it wasn't happening again. But it is.
Today, it took me three hours to put Froggy down for her nap. Whenever she was on the verge of sleep, her eyes would roll back, and she'd instantly awaken, pumped up and ready to keep fighting.
I was exhausted and angry that on top of CF, we have to deal with Epilepsy. It's so unfair, I could punch someone. Speaking of punching someone... In the middle of trying to put Froggy down, I heard a knock at the door. Buddy started barking wildly, and I was instantly annoyed, thinking, "It better be UPS with her Pulmozyme!"
I opened the screen, while our attack Pomeranian howled, to find two polite little Mormon girls with their nametags, and skirts. I said, "I'm sorry, my baby is sleeping," and closed the door on their sweet little faces. It could not have been more ironic. The last three hours I was blaming God for Froggy's seizures, saying, "Pick on somebody your own size!," and then these two angelic kids show up at my door. Had I really embraced my bitter self, I would have invited them in for tea and told them to go to college before settling down and popping out 10 kids.
They were the most innocent and adorable girls and I still wanted to smack them silly for bothering me in the midst of my mental breakdown. I mean honestly, what could two eighteen year old girls teach me about life? What pearls of wisdom have they stored up in highschool that I haven't learned in LA, in college, in motherhood? I'm sure their hearts are in the right place, but it's a little condescending when a couple of teenagers knock on my door interrupting my life to teach me about the meaning of life. I mean, geez, I'm too busy living to comprehend the meaning of it all! Maybe they should start sending people in their 30's or 40's, because we could at the very least chat about wrinkles and sleep deprivation, let alone God and the meaning of life!
Three hours later, Froggy succumbed to sleep, and "Hummingbird's" mama came over to babysit. Today was the day we recorded our radio show, "Motherhood Unplugged" on KPFK, and I had a long drive to the valley.
The recording was wonderful, but I was totally humbled by the other writers. The segment is an hour-long program about motherhood, told through story and song. The other women who spoke were all famous storytellers, musicians, comedians, and authors. I truly felt that my essay paled in comparison to the others, but the host, Amy Simon said that I had a great voice for radio and totally bolstered my ego. After hearing the other mamas read, it was, like I said, humbling and wonderful to share this experience.
The airtime has changed. It is now July 19th at 7am (Pacific time). It's not a great airtime, but this is a brand new segment and we'll need to prove our worth. Which means, you all have to listen, then call the station and say that this is the BEST show you've ever heard!!!
I listen to KPFK all the time and I can honestly say that this is a great show!
And tonight, while feeling the excitement of "Motherhood Unplugged", I was again humbled. These moms may not have knocked on my door to enlighten me about the world, but I was moved by their honest and heartfelt experiences.
Tomorrow, I'll call the neurologist and hopefully we'll figure out a new med dose to control her seizures. Tonight, while rocking Froggy to sleep, I said a silent prayer, "Please just let her be okay, I'll give anything." And I would.
As a single, young woman I would have done almost anything for success, and now, I would do anything to keep my daughter healthy. Everything else is just fluff. And maybe I sound like a jerk, but when someone can knock on my door and tell me why our Froggy was given CF and Epilepsy, I'll answer. Until then, we're too busy living to talk about why we're...living.
Laguna and Great Grandma
We spent the weekend with Froggy's Great-grandma "B". It was gorgeous and so wonderful relaxing on the deck that overlooks the ocean. We watched the fireworks, while Buddy the dog pranced around barking like he does every year, anticipating the Apocalypse with every bang!Froggy took a 4 hour nap in a room we call the "Narcolepsy Room". True to form, it always encourages it's guests to sleep and sleep and sleep. In that wonderful four hour vacation, I finished my bookclub pick "The Book of Bright Ideas," and chatted with Grandma B. She's not your average granny. She's traveled the world, China, Alaska, Russia, Europe, Cuba, Tibet, India, Asia, South and Central America, etc. And her wisdom of the world and people is evident in her conversation and tolerant worldview. We talked about war, children, husbands, expectations, and life. I always have such a wonderful time talking to Grandma "B", who just happens to share the same birthday as our Froggy. September 8th is a lucky day, ya know.
FD worked on landscaping, a backyard project that becomes more beautiful with every visit to Laguna. I should have taken pictures. Next time.
Froggy was a stinker with her treatments, and was dealing with some major constipation, so there were some challenges to the weekend, but nothing a little sunshine and sand between the toes couldn't fix, and the ride home was traffic free. Woo-hoo. Our kitties were so happy to see us, they peed on the bathroom rug. Now that's love.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Great Strides Montage
Our friend "A" is a photographer and made a photo montage with music highlighting our Great Strides Walk in Santa Monica.
Go to the Youtube site HERE to watch it!
Thanks "A" it's beautiful.
Go to the Youtube site HERE to watch it!
Thanks "A" it's beautiful.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
Baby Dreams
I've always wanted to read an essay on the radio. I often submit to "This I Believe" and other segments on NPR to no avail.
Last year I won an essay contest with the magazine LA PARENT, entitled "One Rubber Ducky at a Time." I don't know if you remember the details, but the woman who created the contest is a playwright, Amy Simon, and I was to read my essay at her one-woman show CHEERIOS IN MY UNDERWEAR. But Froggy had the hand, foot and mouth virus and I was unable to attend. Amy Simon read my essay herself and called me after the show, so I could hear the applause. She's an incredible woman.
Well...Amy called me yesterday and said that she was just been approved to host a radio show on a local Los Angeles station, KPFK. Her show will be called "Motherhood Unplugged." And for her first show, she asked me to read my essay on the radio!
This Tuesday, we will tape it, and then Saturday (July 12) at noon (Pacific) on KPFK, it will air. You can go to www.KPFK.org to hear it. I'll post more later, to make sure the airtime is correct.
I'm so excited. This is a baby dream of mine, and who knows what will come of it. Hooray!
Last year I won an essay contest with the magazine LA PARENT, entitled "One Rubber Ducky at a Time." I don't know if you remember the details, but the woman who created the contest is a playwright, Amy Simon, and I was to read my essay at her one-woman show CHEERIOS IN MY UNDERWEAR. But Froggy had the hand, foot and mouth virus and I was unable to attend. Amy Simon read my essay herself and called me after the show, so I could hear the applause. She's an incredible woman.
Well...Amy called me yesterday and said that she was just been approved to host a radio show on a local Los Angeles station, KPFK. Her show will be called "Motherhood Unplugged." And for her first show, she asked me to read my essay on the radio!
This Tuesday, we will tape it, and then Saturday (July 12) at noon (Pacific) on KPFK, it will air. You can go to www.KPFK.org to hear it. I'll post more later, to make sure the airtime is correct.
I'm so excited. This is a baby dream of mine, and who knows what will come of it. Hooray!
Tuesday, July 01, 2008
Opening Doors
I don't know who it was that said "every person is a door to a new universe," but that truth rings especially true tonight.
I love meeting new people. In LA, it's called "networking" but that's a disgusting term, and there is nothing human involved in that type of interaction. I hate networking - that fake, "what can you do for me" conversation where both parties one-up each other, and walk away feeling defeated, and desperate. Not my cup of tea.
I'm part of an online group for parents in LA. There are over 7,000 members, but only a few hundred post consistently. Having never met most of these women, I still feel I know them. We ask each other for advise on Pediatricians, diets, plumbers, books, etc. Every few months some of us get together, for dinner and drinks. It's an opportunity to meet the people behind the posts, the women who help or need help with their out-of-control toddler or crazy neighbor, their meatloaf recipe, and marital strife.
About a year ago, I read online that a mom was diagnosed with Leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant. She had a baby girl about Froggy's age, and her Temple was hosting a day where people could sign up, swab their cheek and become a potential bone marrow donor. My friend and I volunteered and are now both on the registry. I was inspired by her, and how she managed to balance this devastating disease with motherhood.
Tonight at a gathering from this on-line group, I met the woman who is still fighting Leukemia. She's working on a documentary about her condition, and she was beautiful, and full of energy, and despite her lack of hair, it would be impossible to tell that she was sick. She said this is her second fight with Leukemia and her doctor explained that if she is diagnosed again, there is little hope for recovery. She was incredibly stoic, and said that at 41, she lived a full and happy life. Just in case, she was working on a photo montage for her daughter, something to remember her by.
I told her about Froggy and how I was inspired by her to become a bone marrow donor. She cried and said that as hard as it is to face death, she couldn't imagine having a child with a chronic condition, like CF. She was so brave and beautiful. And I thought, this is networking, where people come together to save lives, to share tears and say, "keep fighting," where we really are windows into the soul, and doors to a new universe.
Eating sushi and drinking Chardonnay, thirty women talked about preschools, soccer, religion, politics, careers, writing, Spanish immersion schools, life, death, close calls, vasectomies, birth control, natural childbirth, breastfeeding, desires, free time, creativity, love, books, friendships, literature, theatre, film, cancer and shoes.
We all have a story, lives that are complicated and beautiful, precious and awkward. I always walk away from evenings like tonight where I feel that with women like this in the world, we really will conquer all, Leukemia and CF, the terrible two's and expensive schooling. It's networking of the best kind - people looking out for other people... just because...to open up worlds, and in the end say, "even though I don't really know you, I know you and love you."
It reminds me of the Emily Dickinson quote, "That Love is all there is, Is all we know of Love"
I love meeting new people. In LA, it's called "networking" but that's a disgusting term, and there is nothing human involved in that type of interaction. I hate networking - that fake, "what can you do for me" conversation where both parties one-up each other, and walk away feeling defeated, and desperate. Not my cup of tea.
I'm part of an online group for parents in LA. There are over 7,000 members, but only a few hundred post consistently. Having never met most of these women, I still feel I know them. We ask each other for advise on Pediatricians, diets, plumbers, books, etc. Every few months some of us get together, for dinner and drinks. It's an opportunity to meet the people behind the posts, the women who help or need help with their out-of-control toddler or crazy neighbor, their meatloaf recipe, and marital strife.
About a year ago, I read online that a mom was diagnosed with Leukemia and needed a bone marrow transplant. She had a baby girl about Froggy's age, and her Temple was hosting a day where people could sign up, swab their cheek and become a potential bone marrow donor. My friend and I volunteered and are now both on the registry. I was inspired by her, and how she managed to balance this devastating disease with motherhood.
Tonight at a gathering from this on-line group, I met the woman who is still fighting Leukemia. She's working on a documentary about her condition, and she was beautiful, and full of energy, and despite her lack of hair, it would be impossible to tell that she was sick. She said this is her second fight with Leukemia and her doctor explained that if she is diagnosed again, there is little hope for recovery. She was incredibly stoic, and said that at 41, she lived a full and happy life. Just in case, she was working on a photo montage for her daughter, something to remember her by.
I told her about Froggy and how I was inspired by her to become a bone marrow donor. She cried and said that as hard as it is to face death, she couldn't imagine having a child with a chronic condition, like CF. She was so brave and beautiful. And I thought, this is networking, where people come together to save lives, to share tears and say, "keep fighting," where we really are windows into the soul, and doors to a new universe.
Eating sushi and drinking Chardonnay, thirty women talked about preschools, soccer, religion, politics, careers, writing, Spanish immersion schools, life, death, close calls, vasectomies, birth control, natural childbirth, breastfeeding, desires, free time, creativity, love, books, friendships, literature, theatre, film, cancer and shoes.
We all have a story, lives that are complicated and beautiful, precious and awkward. I always walk away from evenings like tonight where I feel that with women like this in the world, we really will conquer all, Leukemia and CF, the terrible two's and expensive schooling. It's networking of the best kind - people looking out for other people... just because...to open up worlds, and in the end say, "even though I don't really know you, I know you and love you."
It reminds me of the Emily Dickinson quote, "That Love is all there is, Is all we know of Love"
Monday, June 30, 2008
Back on the horse
It's been three years since I seriously worked on a play or script.
It's time. I am going to write a tv pilot. I have an idea, finally an idea.
Since I'm a research freak, it will be a while before anything is actually on paper, besides a treatment, and tons of notes. But this feels good.
Sadly, my blogging will suffer. But I'll be sure to post pics and sometimes writing is the best distraction from writing. So I'm sure I'll need to procrastinate my scriptwriting with blogger writing.
It's time. I am going to write a tv pilot. I have an idea, finally an idea.
Since I'm a research freak, it will be a while before anything is actually on paper, besides a treatment, and tons of notes. But this feels good.
Sadly, my blogging will suffer. But I'll be sure to post pics and sometimes writing is the best distraction from writing. So I'm sure I'll need to procrastinate my scriptwriting with blogger writing.
Drum Session
Friday, June 27, 2008
Happy Birthday Sissysnuggiekins!
Sissysnugs Mama, her son "Z", Sissysnugs, Froggy, FD and FM
Sissysnugs and her Mama
FD and Froggy in the pool
Froggy swimming with a noodle, and Dadda
It's hard to believe that Sissysnuggiekins is 16! We surprised her today at her aunt Betsy's with a birthday party. Froggy was, as always smitten to see her big Sis. And she met (for the first time) her sister's little brother. Got that?
Sissysnug's mom has a son (Sissy's half brother). So Sissysnug's half-sister Froggy met her half brother. So I suppose Froggy and "Z" are half-half-half brother and sister? Anyway, we had a great day. Sissy was very surprised and Froggy was thrilled to see her Sissy.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
How is this for a first day?
On Froggydadda's first day as a student Respiratory Therapist...
He did CPR on a woman for 50 minutes.
His first patient had severe Cerebral Palsy and could only communicate by screaming, while FD took his oxygen levels.
FD was offered a job on the weekends to clean respiratory machines. We're still debating whether or not he should take it.
During a break, FD called me and said how amazing it felt to be doing something important, to sit by the hospital beds, watch golf (and he hates golf) with an elderly patient, and to do something well. His RT instructor was super impressed and of course all the nurses were smitten. Back off girls.
The next eight weeks will be incredibly difficult for our family. FD has 12-14 hour days all week (with Fridays off) and may work on the weekends. The question is, how am I to work 25-30hours a week while being the primary caretaker of the world's busiest toddler, without help. Yikes. I'm tired just thinking about it, but incredibly proud of my husband and all he has accomplished.
He did CPR on a woman for 50 minutes.
His first patient had severe Cerebral Palsy and could only communicate by screaming, while FD took his oxygen levels.
FD was offered a job on the weekends to clean respiratory machines. We're still debating whether or not he should take it.
During a break, FD called me and said how amazing it felt to be doing something important, to sit by the hospital beds, watch golf (and he hates golf) with an elderly patient, and to do something well. His RT instructor was super impressed and of course all the nurses were smitten. Back off girls.
The next eight weeks will be incredibly difficult for our family. FD has 12-14 hour days all week (with Fridays off) and may work on the weekends. The question is, how am I to work 25-30hours a week while being the primary caretaker of the world's busiest toddler, without help. Yikes. I'm tired just thinking about it, but incredibly proud of my husband and all he has accomplished.
Froggydadda
As most of you know, Froggydadda is in school to become a Respiratory Therapist so he can take excellent and professional care of our little Froggy.
Today he starts working in the hospital! He was up at 5am for his first 12-hour shift. He will be working under and observing other RT's, and will graduate next June.
And not that I'm biased or anything, but he was looking pretty cute in scrubs.
Today he starts working in the hospital! He was up at 5am for his first 12-hour shift. He will be working under and observing other RT's, and will graduate next June.
And not that I'm biased or anything, but he was looking pretty cute in scrubs.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
We're HOME!!!
We didn't need to be admitted. And the mountain of poo has moved on through. Woo hoo!
Thank you everyone for the dookee dances and poo prayers.
Thank you everyone for the dookee dances and poo prayers.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Tomorrow
Tomorrow we have our doc appointment at Children's Hospital. We'll do x-rays and see if the kiddo has any blockage. If we get the all-clear, we'll be able to sleep in our own bed tomorrow night.
If Froggy hasn't moved Mount Vesuvious, we'll be admitted.
I won't have access to the internet in the hospital, unless I can Bogart one of the nurse's computers for a minute. So if I haven't posted by tomorrow evening, you'll know where we are. And we'd love visitors. Call FD if you want to stop by, and he'll tell you our room number.
But hopefully...you won't need to.
If Froggy hasn't moved Mount Vesuvious, we'll be admitted.
I won't have access to the internet in the hospital, unless I can Bogart one of the nurse's computers for a minute. So if I haven't posted by tomorrow evening, you'll know where we are. And we'd love visitors. Call FD if you want to stop by, and he'll tell you our room number.
But hopefully...you won't need to.
Friday, June 20, 2008
The Business of Magic
Driving home tonight
I caught a glimpse of you in the rear view
sleeping
your tiara still attached to chlorine curls
a wand hanging from pruned fingers
tired of turning cats into horses
and the heavy business of magic
peeking out of street light shadows
the triangular fleeting shapes of your face made brow
and chin
and lips into a Dahli painting
where strangely everything made sense
in the fragments
I see the reason for it all
you
breathing the salty air of the pacific coast highway
where movies about lives like ours are filmed.
In the rear view you are perfect.
and I am just a driver
taking you wherever it is
you wish to go.
I caught a glimpse of you in the rear view
sleeping
your tiara still attached to chlorine curls
a wand hanging from pruned fingers
tired of turning cats into horses
and the heavy business of magic
peeking out of street light shadows
the triangular fleeting shapes of your face made brow
and chin
and lips into a Dahli painting
where strangely everything made sense
in the fragments
I see the reason for it all
you
breathing the salty air of the pacific coast highway
where movies about lives like ours are filmed.
In the rear view you are perfect.
and I am just a driver
taking you wherever it is
you wish to go.
The scoop on the poop
After Froggy's x-ray, we learned she's backed up big time and impacted in her upper GI.
We did blood work to check electrolytes. If they were in any way abnormal, we would be admitted for at least two days. After being admitted, they would basically give her an IV laxative. It's through the nose, and lasts for four hours at a time. And they were pretty sure we'd need to do it a couple times....
Fortunately, her electrolytes were normal! She dropped a little in weight, but that's understandable. So they sent us home to really work on some big poos!
For now, we're pushing liquids, and giving her an all-white diet. White bread, white pasta, and no milk, no multi-grain anything. Tons of pedialyte, gatorade and nasty supplements. It will be a tough weekend.
Tuesday we have another appointment at Children's Hospital for more blood work and x-rays. If she's not cleared out by then, we'll be admitted.
So think POOP! Really concentrate on LOTS AND LOTS OF POOOOOOOO! Instead of a rain dance, we'll do a dookee dance, screaming "Goooooo Lax-a-tives!"
We did blood work to check electrolytes. If they were in any way abnormal, we would be admitted for at least two days. After being admitted, they would basically give her an IV laxative. It's through the nose, and lasts for four hours at a time. And they were pretty sure we'd need to do it a couple times....
Fortunately, her electrolytes were normal! She dropped a little in weight, but that's understandable. So they sent us home to really work on some big poos!
For now, we're pushing liquids, and giving her an all-white diet. White bread, white pasta, and no milk, no multi-grain anything. Tons of pedialyte, gatorade and nasty supplements. It will be a tough weekend.
Tuesday we have another appointment at Children's Hospital for more blood work and x-rays. If she's not cleared out by then, we'll be admitted.
So think POOP! Really concentrate on LOTS AND LOTS OF POOOOOOOO! Instead of a rain dance, we'll do a dookee dance, screaming "Goooooo Lax-a-tives!"
Thursday, June 19, 2008
We're Going to the Doc...again
Tomorrow morning (Friday) we have an early appointment at Children's Hospital.
Froggy has not been feeling well, digestively speaking since we returned from Iowa. So the doc wants to x-ray her belly to check if she's impacted. I'm sure we'll get blood work and other fun stuff, so keep us in your thoughts tomorrow.
It will be a long day. The hospital is about an hour away (with traffic) and we have to be there at 8:20am. Yuck. You all know how I feel about mornings...especially considering we have three respiratory treatments and breakfast to take care of before we leave.
I stopped at Target tonight and bought Froggy a new Barbie doll to open at the doc's. Hopefully that will be an even trade for x-rays, needles and hours of waiting. Yeah, right. Maybe we'll stop for ice cream too.
Froggy has not been feeling well, digestively speaking since we returned from Iowa. So the doc wants to x-ray her belly to check if she's impacted. I'm sure we'll get blood work and other fun stuff, so keep us in your thoughts tomorrow.
It will be a long day. The hospital is about an hour away (with traffic) and we have to be there at 8:20am. Yuck. You all know how I feel about mornings...especially considering we have three respiratory treatments and breakfast to take care of before we leave.
I stopped at Target tonight and bought Froggy a new Barbie doll to open at the doc's. Hopefully that will be an even trade for x-rays, needles and hours of waiting. Yeah, right. Maybe we'll stop for ice cream too.
Monday, June 16, 2008
I pick out my own clothes
Froggy must dress herself these days. I so don't care. It's one less battle. And I like her style. I tried not to laugh when she picked out the belt. She is one funny kid. The Tye Dye Sisters
Chocolate kisses.
Our colorful girls.
Everyone looking a little possessed, but still cute.
Riding the train with "Hal" the conductor. He only has one tooth, but he sure was friendly.
Climbing up in the old trains.
Looking bored together.Sunday, we all celebrated Father's Day at a little place in Griffith Park called "Travel Town," which houses old trains from the turn of the century. It's a great laidback place where kids can run around and climb trains. Froggy is really into Thomas the Tank Engine, so she had a great time. And the sisters were able to spend time together, in their tie dye outfits and tie dye hair.
I really miss Griffith Park. When FD and I lived in Hollywood, I'd hike up to the observatory a few times a week. In fact, Griffith Park was really the only thing I liked about living in Hollywood.
I really miss Griffith Park. When FD and I lived in Hollywood, I'd hike up to the observatory a few times a week. In fact, Griffith Park was really the only thing I liked about living in Hollywood.
Woo Hooooooo Froggydadda!!!
Froggydadda got a B this semester!
And his GPA for the program is 3.08!!!
Go FD!!! We're so proud!!! Could I use more exclamations!!!?!!?
And his GPA for the program is 3.08!!!
Go FD!!! We're so proud!!! Could I use more exclamations!!!?!!?
Gimme Gimme Gimme, I need, I need...
I know every mother feels at one time or another that she is losing her mind...Well I'm there.
Since we returned from Iowa, Froggy has had a constant cold virus. I think she actually started recovering from one, when she picked up another. Then came pinkeye. And in the midst of the major mucus, she's been constipated, gassy, and spends sometimes four hours a day "trying" to poop. She can't leave my side, so I sit there for four hours holding her hand while she says, "my tummy hurts." The second she has a bowel movement, she's her cheerful, happy self. I've talked to our nutritionist several times, and we've increased her laxative, but somedays are still miserable.
And we have definitely hit the terrible-two's. Everything is a battle. For instance...
"Noooo, I don't like that shirt. Not THAT one, NOOOOOO!," screaming like her shirt is made of fire, rather than cotton.
"No vest Mommy! Nooooo! I don't LIKE vest. No treatment. No."
Froggymama: Are you hungry?
Froggy: No.
Froggymama: How about a Cheerio. One Cheerio. Just one.
Froggy: I don't like Cheerios. No. No. No.
From giving meds, to brushing teeth, putting on clothes, getting in the bath, getting out of the bath, reading a story, going for a walk, every detail of our life has become a battle. And I'm losing big time. I dread every moment and want to crawl into a cave and hibernate until she's four.
Last night we skipped her respiratory treatment because of her stomach pain. It was a tough call, but by the end of the day, we just couldn't "do" one more thing to her. So this morning it was extremely important that we complete her vest, albuterol and pulmozyme. But noooooo... she made her body stiff as a board, screamed, tore at her mask, and I could not physically hold her. Toddlers have an amazing ability to squirm out of any situation. It's like when evolving, they developed this ability to escape the grasp of a boa constrictor, or vulcan grip. Now, it's to escape amoxicilin, or eyedrops.
While trying to hold Froggy down for treatment, I lost it and really yelled at her. It was a major low point in Froggymama history. It was an angry, loud and frustrated yell, with a big expletive... and I feel terrible. I walked away, we didn't finish pulmozyme, and she completed her vest while I stood in the kitchen trying to catch my breath and calm down. Afterwards, I put her in bed with a milk, and she was so incredibly sweet and loving and of course that added to my mean-mommy-guilt.
And this stress is affecting FD and I and how we communicate and co-exist. He's frustrated and worried about school and I'm frustrated about getting my work done, and keeping Froggy healthy. So we take it all out on eachother.
I'm having a difficult time digesting our lives, if that makes sense. On one hand I'm appreciative of what we have, our wonderful family, friends. We don't live in a war zone, we're not starving, we have access (although it's frustratingly hard to actually get it) to amazing healthcare, we have a bright, kind, adorable child... we are so incredibly lucky. And on the other hand, I'm jealous of people who have healthy kids and don't have a daily financial strain. I miss my family. I'm exhausted and stressed out, overworked, and lately...just sad.
One of my favorite movies is "What About Bob," with Bill Murray. There's one point when he's trying to convince his therapist who is on vacation to see him anyway. He has the most pathetic look on his face and says, "Gimme, gimme, gimme, I need, I need..." It just says it all, because he never really says what it is he needs. It's just something, and without that something, it feels like madness.
Since we returned from Iowa, Froggy has had a constant cold virus. I think she actually started recovering from one, when she picked up another. Then came pinkeye. And in the midst of the major mucus, she's been constipated, gassy, and spends sometimes four hours a day "trying" to poop. She can't leave my side, so I sit there for four hours holding her hand while she says, "my tummy hurts." The second she has a bowel movement, she's her cheerful, happy self. I've talked to our nutritionist several times, and we've increased her laxative, but somedays are still miserable.
And we have definitely hit the terrible-two's. Everything is a battle. For instance...
"Noooo, I don't like that shirt. Not THAT one, NOOOOOO!," screaming like her shirt is made of fire, rather than cotton.
"No vest Mommy! Nooooo! I don't LIKE vest. No treatment. No."
Froggymama: Are you hungry?
Froggy: No.
Froggymama: How about a Cheerio. One Cheerio. Just one.
Froggy: I don't like Cheerios. No. No. No.
From giving meds, to brushing teeth, putting on clothes, getting in the bath, getting out of the bath, reading a story, going for a walk, every detail of our life has become a battle. And I'm losing big time. I dread every moment and want to crawl into a cave and hibernate until she's four.
Last night we skipped her respiratory treatment because of her stomach pain. It was a tough call, but by the end of the day, we just couldn't "do" one more thing to her. So this morning it was extremely important that we complete her vest, albuterol and pulmozyme. But noooooo... she made her body stiff as a board, screamed, tore at her mask, and I could not physically hold her. Toddlers have an amazing ability to squirm out of any situation. It's like when evolving, they developed this ability to escape the grasp of a boa constrictor, or vulcan grip. Now, it's to escape amoxicilin, or eyedrops.
While trying to hold Froggy down for treatment, I lost it and really yelled at her. It was a major low point in Froggymama history. It was an angry, loud and frustrated yell, with a big expletive... and I feel terrible. I walked away, we didn't finish pulmozyme, and she completed her vest while I stood in the kitchen trying to catch my breath and calm down. Afterwards, I put her in bed with a milk, and she was so incredibly sweet and loving and of course that added to my mean-mommy-guilt.
And this stress is affecting FD and I and how we communicate and co-exist. He's frustrated and worried about school and I'm frustrated about getting my work done, and keeping Froggy healthy. So we take it all out on eachother.
I'm having a difficult time digesting our lives, if that makes sense. On one hand I'm appreciative of what we have, our wonderful family, friends. We don't live in a war zone, we're not starving, we have access (although it's frustratingly hard to actually get it) to amazing healthcare, we have a bright, kind, adorable child... we are so incredibly lucky. And on the other hand, I'm jealous of people who have healthy kids and don't have a daily financial strain. I miss my family. I'm exhausted and stressed out, overworked, and lately...just sad.
One of my favorite movies is "What About Bob," with Bill Murray. There's one point when he's trying to convince his therapist who is on vacation to see him anyway. He has the most pathetic look on his face and says, "Gimme, gimme, gimme, I need, I need..." It just says it all, because he never really says what it is he needs. It's just something, and without that something, it feels like madness.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Muddy Waters
This is Iowa sadly reverting to it's pre-cambrian days.Fortunately no one I know has had to swim out of their house yet.
Thank you everyone who called or emailed to ask if my family was affected. And thank you for not confusing Iowa with Idaho, or Ohio, or Indiana, or Illinois.
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
An oldie, but a goody!
A Drinking Song
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
By William Butler Yeats
(Public domain baby)
I went through a Yeats stage. Okay, I'm still not out of it, where I read everything he wrote. Not much of a playwright (yikes) but quite the poet.
Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we grow old and die.
I lift the glass to my mouth,
I look at you, and I sigh.
By William Butler Yeats
(Public domain baby)
I went through a Yeats stage. Okay, I'm still not out of it, where I read everything he wrote. Not much of a playwright (yikes) but quite the poet.
Giving pink eye the stink eye!
I think the Frog and I have pinkeye.
We're off to the doctor. Good times.
We're off to the doctor. Good times.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Friday, June 06, 2008
A CF World
I've had a few interesting experiences with CF'ers and families dealing with Cystic Fibrosis:
A couple months ago, I had lunch with a mom (her daughter is 23 and has CF). She is doing well, in grad-school, continues to dance, and even with some long stays in the hospital and decreased lung function (85%) this year, is still feeling great. They're dealing with the lovely challenges of health insurance paycaps, and a child outgrowing her parent's insurance. Yay, something to look forward to!
Also, one of my best friends "Gorgeous Hair" has a young neighbor with CF. She's 21, and we all went out together on Monday (dinner and an Improv show). She's intelligent, witty, adorable, and had a lung transplant when she was 16. Her parents each donated a lobe. I know. I didn't believe it either, but it's possible. She explained that when people donate parts of their lung, the existing lung "fills in" the empty space. Incredible.
And yesterday I attended a webcast at our local CF chapter and met a girl who is my age (a ripe old 30) and she also had a double lung transplant, five years ago and is doing great. She looked so healthy I asked her if she had a child with CF.
I also met a dad who has a 15 year old with CF, who wasn't diagnosed until 5th grade. The dad is dealing with the challenges of a teenager who doesn't want to do treatments and take meds. Ahhhh, can't wait for that.
And it was great catching up with some other CF parents at the webcast who are always facing new challenges (allergies, nutritional issues, etc).
As much as I want to reach out and talk to everyone with CF, and ask a million questions, get involved, it is still incredibly difficult dealing with the reality of this disease. Sometimes you need to get through the day by forgetting, and sometimes even pretending that everything will be okay.
The other night I needed to cry, to be angry, and feel sorry for Froggy who doesn't deserve this, for everyone who doesn't deserve this. And even though the webcast was hopeful with new antibiotics, treatments and meds in the pipeline, it's still hard not to think, "This might be as good as it gets." Our healthy 2 and a half year old is as healthy as she will ever be. And when I watch her play, climbing the junglegym, swimming, so completely able and full of life, I can't help but go to that dark place of "is this only temporary?"
There are so many levels of grief to Cystic Fibrosis. It's not like when someone dies and you go through the stages of denial, anger, acceptance... Everyday, every week, we experience a new emotion. One day I feel elation that Froggy lives in a time of progressive medicine, and in the next second, sorrow that we were so unlucky to be the one in 3500, then anger that our daughter has to suffer what we don't have to, and the guilt of being a carrier of a defective gene, passing on something dreadful to our child.
And then we feel grateful that because of this disease we appreciate every moment, and we truly value Froggy's little life. I can't imagine appreciating my child with such a monumental love without the knowledge that we are so incredibly fragile, that our time together is measured in literal breaths.
A couple months ago, I had lunch with a mom (her daughter is 23 and has CF). She is doing well, in grad-school, continues to dance, and even with some long stays in the hospital and decreased lung function (85%) this year, is still feeling great. They're dealing with the lovely challenges of health insurance paycaps, and a child outgrowing her parent's insurance. Yay, something to look forward to!
Also, one of my best friends "Gorgeous Hair" has a young neighbor with CF. She's 21, and we all went out together on Monday (dinner and an Improv show). She's intelligent, witty, adorable, and had a lung transplant when she was 16. Her parents each donated a lobe. I know. I didn't believe it either, but it's possible. She explained that when people donate parts of their lung, the existing lung "fills in" the empty space. Incredible.
And yesterday I attended a webcast at our local CF chapter and met a girl who is my age (a ripe old 30) and she also had a double lung transplant, five years ago and is doing great. She looked so healthy I asked her if she had a child with CF.
I also met a dad who has a 15 year old with CF, who wasn't diagnosed until 5th grade. The dad is dealing with the challenges of a teenager who doesn't want to do treatments and take meds. Ahhhh, can't wait for that.
And it was great catching up with some other CF parents at the webcast who are always facing new challenges (allergies, nutritional issues, etc).
As much as I want to reach out and talk to everyone with CF, and ask a million questions, get involved, it is still incredibly difficult dealing with the reality of this disease. Sometimes you need to get through the day by forgetting, and sometimes even pretending that everything will be okay.
The other night I needed to cry, to be angry, and feel sorry for Froggy who doesn't deserve this, for everyone who doesn't deserve this. And even though the webcast was hopeful with new antibiotics, treatments and meds in the pipeline, it's still hard not to think, "This might be as good as it gets." Our healthy 2 and a half year old is as healthy as she will ever be. And when I watch her play, climbing the junglegym, swimming, so completely able and full of life, I can't help but go to that dark place of "is this only temporary?"
There are so many levels of grief to Cystic Fibrosis. It's not like when someone dies and you go through the stages of denial, anger, acceptance... Everyday, every week, we experience a new emotion. One day I feel elation that Froggy lives in a time of progressive medicine, and in the next second, sorrow that we were so unlucky to be the one in 3500, then anger that our daughter has to suffer what we don't have to, and the guilt of being a carrier of a defective gene, passing on something dreadful to our child.
And then we feel grateful that because of this disease we appreciate every moment, and we truly value Froggy's little life. I can't imagine appreciating my child with such a monumental love without the knowledge that we are so incredibly fragile, that our time together is measured in literal breaths.
And then there's hope. Hope is your best friend and worst enemy. Because you need it to get up in the morning, but it also has the ability to make you crazy, when life doesn't turn out the way you want it to...the way you hoped it would.
Being the parent of a child with a disease like CF, you are given an opportunity, to see life in a dark light. It is a constant balance of pain and peace, hope and devastation, sorrow and joy. And maybe that is the purpose of life, to find the balance, to accept the reality, but live in the hope.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
An Iowa Poem
If you don't subscribe to The Writer's Almanac, you really should.
Below is a poem you would never read in any anthology that is too cool for school. I love the Writer's Almanac, because they take risks; they post poetry that isn't written in iambic pentameter, or referencing the Greeks.
When I studied poetry (with writers who were in the infamous and mostly bitter U of Iowa Writers Workshop) it seemed that the only poetry admired was cold and undecipherable. If your poetry had any heart, you were considered sentimental and super lamo. I remember a kid in my class wrote a poem about his mom dying of cancer. It was beautiful and I'll never forget one line. As he held his mother's dying hand, he said, "I push all the love I can through my fingers." I will never, ever forget that. Our teacher was not impressed. Ten years later, I still am.
Here's another great one...about Iowa.
Farmhouses, Iowa
Invariably, a family in each one
And someone opening the fridge to fetch
A carton of milk, someone sitting in
A chair and shelling peas, someone looking
Out a window at a barn, two willow trees.
Solitude broods like a pursuing shadow;
A radio fades in and out -the voice
Eager yet eerie. Three ages anchor
The oaken dinner table: Mom and Dad
Up-before-dawn weary, Grandma perturbed
About half-thawed rolls, the children recounting
School stories, then silent. In the parlor
A whiskey tumbler rests beside a Bible.
The old collie whimpers when a car goes by.
"Farmhouses, Iowa" by Baron Wormser, from Scattered Chapters. © Sarabande Books, 2008.
Below is a poem you would never read in any anthology that is too cool for school. I love the Writer's Almanac, because they take risks; they post poetry that isn't written in iambic pentameter, or referencing the Greeks.
When I studied poetry (with writers who were in the infamous and mostly bitter U of Iowa Writers Workshop) it seemed that the only poetry admired was cold and undecipherable. If your poetry had any heart, you were considered sentimental and super lamo. I remember a kid in my class wrote a poem about his mom dying of cancer. It was beautiful and I'll never forget one line. As he held his mother's dying hand, he said, "I push all the love I can through my fingers." I will never, ever forget that. Our teacher was not impressed. Ten years later, I still am.
Here's another great one...about Iowa.
Farmhouses, Iowa
Invariably, a family in each one
And someone opening the fridge to fetch
A carton of milk, someone sitting in
A chair and shelling peas, someone looking
Out a window at a barn, two willow trees.
Solitude broods like a pursuing shadow;
A radio fades in and out -the voice
Eager yet eerie. Three ages anchor
The oaken dinner table: Mom and Dad
Up-before-dawn weary, Grandma perturbed
About half-thawed rolls, the children recounting
School stories, then silent. In the parlor
A whiskey tumbler rests beside a Bible.
The old collie whimpers when a car goes by.
"Farmhouses, Iowa" by Baron Wormser, from Scattered Chapters. © Sarabande Books, 2008.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Adventureland
Froggy took the "Ladybug" ride very seriously.
A week later and I'm still posting pictures of Iowa. I've been so busy unpacking and getting our lives in order that posting has taken a back seat. Sometimes you have to make the hard decisions - posting on a blog... or grocery shopping for your family.
These photos were taken at Adventureland, an amusement park that my sister and I grew up going to. Many years ago, I wrote an essay about this place, so here it is:
THE BUMPER CARS
by Froggymama
I’ve always been amazed by the calculated way life is so random. It’s like bumper cars with four billion people in a rink, running into one another, getting angry, falling in love; traveling in little blue, yellow and red cars with that electric buzz above us, all the while aware we are run by a grander force—the thirteen year old freckle faced boy pulling the lever, drinking a slurpee, thinking about breasts.
My sister loved the bumper cars at Adventureland in Des Moines, Iowa, because Disneyland was 2,000 miles away. Every year we anticipated that one hot summer day where we were each given a crisp twenty dollar bill for admission and a funnel cake, to bask in the black pavement of Midwestern amusement; that smell of tar and diesel, the sound of pressurized air, the scream of brakes on the roller coaster jarring to a sudden stop after loops and twirls and neck-wrenching splendor.
For one day out of the year we got along. It was a place where siblings actually liked each other and nothing could spoil the 364 day wait for downhill exhilaration. But it was the bumper cars my sister adored. She had the control to steer and veer, to choose her victim from all the rest, the poor soul or sister, friend or foe that for $1.25 could cry out in whip-lashed surprise. I hated the bumper cars. That zap above, indigo sparks, like an electrical fly zapper, snatching moths and beetles on my grandparents’ farm in the middle of the night; the small gnats barely audible, but every few minutes that deafening jolt of power through gigantic flapping wings. I hated the bumper cars.
The roller coaster with its clean departure, climbing the metal rung like latches on a belt buckle, to the top for a dramatic pause…overlooking acres of green corn fields, so green its almost blue, like the ocean we’d never known—and then before there is time for a single breath or ‘I wish I’d never done this,’ swoosh into the sea, laughing and crying, loving each turn more than the last-- and finally into the overhang, where we gasp and show off with exasperated faces for the poor fools waiting their turn. That was what I lived for, the roller coaster, that, and to lick the powdered sugar from my funnel cake.
My sister was magical because she was two years older and could make a tootsie pop last seven hours, with slow patient licks, savoring grape sugar for the better part of a day. And so it was that she would save the best for the last, the bumper cars for the night.
With strong parental concern, we were warned to stay together, forced to endure annoying sibling habits, like two very different peas in a pod. I was made to stand in line and watch the violent thrashings, the burnt rubber, the ferocity of children and grown adults smashing into each other in clownish cars, with seatbelts where one-size is supposed to fit all.
And when it was time to pick our cars, thirty screaming kids ran like rats to a donut. We would claim our own. We would ride alone. Climbing in, frantically attaching belt to buckle, the thirteen-year old freckle-faced boy pulled the lever and the electric jolt, the zap of power beneath our fingertips began.
My car roared as I distinguished break from accelerator. I peeled out into a circle and whipped around, searching not for a victim but a way out of my circular nightmare. Holding close to the sides, I drove around and around, avoiding accident after accident, the frightening, vengeful faces of strangers who were suddenly out to get me.
Finding a safe spot in a major traffic jam, I peered out to find my uteran partner in crime...and there she was, with a look so full of despair, like the world had let her down. My sister, my poor sister whom I’d hated for the better part of my eight years, was sitting in the middle of the rink, completely still. And then it hit me, not a car, but a thought, a realization that haunts me to this day. She got the DUD. The bumper car that for some reason failed to move or bump or swerve, and me in the Rolls Royce, speeding along, hating every second. How could this be? The park was closing. It was too late to wait in line—no second chances, no refund, no best for last. In the search for ultimate control, to steer and power her life for 1.5 minutes, she was denied. My sister got the Dud. And I realized that I loved her more than anyone.
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