girl at large

Pancakes

      


 

I had enough energy today to make Sunday morning pancakes. They were very handy for explaining to the kids, and a bit to myself, why surgery day is a good thing. 

Some Days

Some days, you wonder if being a working mom has cost your kids something. Some days you wonder if it’s cost YOU something. Some days you wonder if not joining the clubs, not doing the sports, if skipping the extra classes and early music/art/language classes has cost your child something or will put them behind.

Some days you wonder if you really should have that fear of losing out everyone else seems to have. Did I do enough? Should we have started piano/soccer/gymnastics/swimming lessons by now?

Am I the worst parent ever for doing Saturday pancakes instead of Saturday sports? Some days the outside pressure to perform as a parent delivers a lot of internal guilt and self doubt...

...some days, your daycare sends proof! Bwaaahaaaaaaaaaa

Holy Crap That Was Awful

This is the first three week cycle where I didn’t get the cytotoxic chemo drug in my infusion.

I had no idea.

I don’t think I really grasped how sick I was even on my “good days”. There was a predictable rhythm the fourth, fifth and sixth cycles—I was “fine” for three days after infusion (thanks to steroids which had their own awful side effects but made me feel false energy), then sick for ten days and then “ok” for seven days before the next round.

I was not fine. I was not ok. 

Today is the first day I feel like I did in September. Less a few side effects still lingering (neuropathy, finger nails, cold bald ass head) of course.

I can’t explain how chemo toxicity inhabits your entire body. And when it’s absent, your entire body is released. Like childbirth, I can already see the visceral memories of my chemo side effects fading. The suffering of this treatment phase is over, my energy is returning. 

Don't tell Paul yet, I want dinner in bed again tonight.

Spring Is Coming

 

This is the time of year we usually plan our spring break road trip. Me, Mom, Viv and my copy of Historic Hotels of American hitting the road. Last year, we canceled at the last minute as COVID was closing in and states were closing down. This year I hoped to do a localized version, perhaps a trip along the Mississippi River in western Wisconsin. But I hadn’t booked anything yet, because you know...cancer.

After five months of chemo, this week was scan week. Monday was my PET scan, Tuesday we got the results. As my oncologist said, in his very understated way, the results are “a dramatic improvement”.

The tumors are gone. The lymph nodes, all of them, are clear of cancerous activity. Gone.

It’s the best possible result from chemotherapy. It’s most likely because my breast cancer type is known to respond so well to the HER2neu agents combined with the chemo drug. The care team will be proceeding “like they would with someone who is stage 3”.

I’ve been absorbing the news, staring at the images. Already, I’m inundated with information about next steps, doctors appointments to be confirmed, calls and texts to schedule surgery. It’s all happening fast, like the initial diagnosis. The first lesson of cancer is it controls your schedule. 

I may have been pulled from the brink, but I can’t pull anything past Mom!

As I explained that my surgery will be scheduled for the middle or end of March...

“So no trip then?”

 

A Good Day

Thank you Internet, today was a good day. We managed three big wins you and me together:

I successfully won a medical billing dispute.

We completed the registry for Viv’s two week summer camp.

And best of all, Mom got her vaccine!

It’s been a very good day. I’m going to bed now to savor the relief.

Inauguration Hot Take

The monochromatic outfits we all loved have to be inspired by The Crown, don’t make fun of the Queen ever again.

Men need better dress up clothes. Get some interesting coats dudes.

Bernie is in front of me at the post office every time. Every event needs a mascot.

I didn’t know it was Gaga because I had on only audio at that moment, I thought it sounded weird. I am clearly not musical.

The whole of my creative life will not add up to one tenth the impact of one line of Amanda Gorman’s poem.

I was on the Ohio turnpike (excellent waysides!) when I heard the American Carnage speech; I’ll always remember the camaraderie with other carloads of women’s marchers headed to DC as we listened.

I was not ready to love Garth, but there it is, I do.

I really really want a hard copy of this week’s Scholastic.

The leadership of one person does make a difference. The integrity and dedication of a team of many competent people makes a difference.

We have a lot of work yet to do. 

There Will Be A Buddy Movie

I can’t tell you how much it means to see these two together. It’s been a hard hard year, this kiddo needed this buddy so bad.

It’s a daily joy to watch Viv be responsible and empathetic, learning how to take care of a living thing. My favorite moments are when he’s worried that Stevie isn’t warm and comfortable at all times. Viv’s favorite hoodie is frequently found gently placed on Stevies snoozing back. For my reflective and reserved child, who misses classmates and playgrounds, running errands and seeing grandparents, this little friend has woken something up that has been so dimmed. 

Also he would probably ditch the cat in a hot second if it meant more time on the Nintendo Switch but whatevs.

Christmas Chemo

The timing of the fourth round of chemo, just a few days before Christmas, sucked. I was the sickest during the height of home bound festivities. Chemo day itself is not hard. After chemo is hard. Like the unexpected (and rarely talked about) challenges after childbirth, the after affects of chemo are less known, wildly varied, and involve a lot of fluids.  

I’d been overdoing it for the holiday for weeks; keeping busy keeps my mind off the illness. Making good things happen for the kids keeps the darker thoughts at bay. Sometimes, in the early morning when I was moving that damn Elf, despite my efforts to suppress them, my thoughts turned to cancer and not wrapping paper. 

 

Why are there so many types of diarrhea?

Is this what my bare head felt like when I was a newborn?

Just how many red blood cells does a person need?

Why do I crave a pineapple upside down cake?

Why did no one tell me about the bloody noses?

Someone needs to make nice plastic flatware.

Contacts, contact + readers, glasses, glasses then readers, back to contacts. Will I ever see right again? 

My fingertips are numb. Or are they just cold? 

I really didn’t ever need to see my fupa in that bald condition.

Why does it take all my energy to text someone back?

If I just stop going to chemo and pretend this never happened, what then? (Being mortally ill without ever feeling sick is very very strange)

I really don’t want to draw my eyebrows in again today.

How many more Christmases do we get?

Ok, time to think about something else and pack the ornaments and tears away. Goodbye Elf. It’s been fun, but it’s over. It’s not you, it’s me. 

Holiday Mood

Me: “Charlie, how many cookies have you eaten?”

Charlie, gesturing adorably to the nearly empty tray: “I’ve eaten all the ones that are missing”

Love Language

 

 

 

 

Tomorrow is chemo round three and I’m sleepless on steroids and dreading it so here is a picture of how my husband arranges the kids’ treasures after a pandemic Autumn walk.

At least when he leaves a mess on my desk he does it correctly.

Simple Questions

The thing about chemo nurses is they will cheerily ask “So, what did you do this weekend?!” like you didn’t spend it:

having diarrhea

being constipated

feeling nauseous

feeling dizzy

taking nausea medication that makes you dizzy

counting hives

having bloody noses

counting pills, writing it down and then immediatly forgetting what you've taken

being cold, then hot, then cold

gargling with baking soda and salt

gargling with apple cider vinegar

having bone pain

sleeping 

not sleeping while everyone else is sleeping

moisturizing your bald ass head

 

Chemo In The Time of Covid

(This is my favorite photo of exhaustion.)

I’m in the infusion room right now and all the nurses are talking about the next phase decisions coming down from their organization leadership. So far I’ve overheard chat about—-surgery and electives are going to be stopping, procedures that might have been overnight admissions are now only proceeding if the patient can tolerate same day outpatient, they started another tier of hazard pay at +$30/hour, “But what difference does that make if you get quarantined and yeah you made all that extra money but you get back to regular when you’re off and you have all that hassle for your family and get sick yourself”

Etc, etc. It is very different chat than three weeks ago when my chemo nurse freaked me out sharing her unsafe Halloween party plans. Wisconsin is currently exploding; for weeks now we have been one of the six worst states for cases, geographical spread and hospitalizations. Tragically, the death rate will follow the same trend.

Even little things are affected by the recent surge and hospital overload; for example the hospital pharmacy is perpetually backed up. I’m on hour two waiting for my meds that were supposed to start at 10am. And of course Paulie couldn’t even be in the building this time. Previously he could at least be in the waiting area, and he could be in the room at the diagnostic appointments, but no more for any new patients now. Can you imagine getting your disease diagnosis and prognosis news alone?

I’m glad they instituted the changes for safety but for total patient care it fucking sucks. I really feel for anyone needing medical care during this time.

Stay vigilant everyone! I know we are fatigued; its exhausting to maintain a constant Threat Level Ten. Hopefully our new leadership will give us the scientific information, competent pandemic team, and compassionate & coherent speeches we all need to persevere and push through to better days, with more lives saved than lost.

Legendary

Halloween 2020 is testing the creative powers of parents across the country.

Tonight I’m thinking about my greatest parenting triumph when at seven o’clock on a work night we made a Batman costume from household items (including a tarp, duct tape, construction paper and shoelaces) in ten minutes so Viv could go to the elementary school monster mash party at the very last minute and then promptly take it all off to jump around in a cafeteria with a throng of sweaty seven year olds.

We did not take a single fucking picture.

So, here is photo of Viv the year before, as Frankenstein’s monster.

 

DIY Chemo

So the best fix for mouth sores from chemo and the pain of thrush, also caused by chemo, is a prescription mixture called Magic Mouthwash. It wasn’t provided in advance, or even mentioned by my chemo nurses. Typically around 50% of chemo patients experience canker sores, mouth sores, mouth pain and/or a thrush infection. Many experience a change in taste so extreme that even water tastes bad. Water.

This is me.

After some back and forth with the nurse line and doctor, we finally got the prescription called in for Magic Mouthwash today. But it’s not covered by my insurance. The pharmacy mixes it for $138.00. Unmixed, the ingredients are $18.00.

Guess which way Paulie went.

 

This Is Not A Journey.

I have breast cancer. It’s an aggressive type, fueled by my own hormones, and like a constellation it has traveled in a great arc from my breast to my sternum, out to my arm and up past my clavicle. 

I won’t go in to the story of how I was diagnosed, why it wasn’t caught “earlier”, or the howling anguish of the last thirty days. Not yet.

Today I’m ready only to say that things look bleak but also better than they did a week ago. It’s all horrible but also I’m very lucky. I feel like shit but I’m also ok.

Journeys are fun. This is not a journey. I hope, someday, it will be just a story.

 

Crap Year, but Always a Quality Man

I’m trying to convince Paul to be on time for this morning’s grocery store pick up appointment by just going in his pajamas. He won’t do it.

“Paulie, have you seen how people dress here?! Even in your pajamas you have more buttons on right now than the average Wisconsin man at a wedding!”

Happy Birthday my love. Next year will be better. Le Mans is waiting for you. 

So are the groceries. There’s booze in that order, get going.

Pat In The Covid Era Is Still 100% Pat

   
 

We helped Mom move into a new apartment in her building the first week of July; one that is just a bit roomier so she can have more studio space, and it has an updated kitchen. She had quite literally worn out the previous unit’s 1970’s era kitchen. I’m still haunted by how close in time frame that move was to our Covid exposure, but somewhat relieved when I recall that we were extra diligent about masks and keeping physical distance, especially from Mom. And the kids haven’t been in her presence at all since they had returned to daycare. Still, it was a close one, and it nags at me.

So, we certainly don’t see Mom in person at all now. But that doesn’t stop us from getting the new place set up right. Some things don’t change, life marches on, furnishings must be arranged. I mean, have you met me? And we all know Pat hasn’t changed. Her reply to my photo messages for example:

“No I threw those pots in Chicago. Yes it’s a crock pot. One fan for head the other for feet. glad to make your day. Mom”

 

 

The Call Is Coming From Inside The House

The night before the positive case notice, when we still had summer at our house.

There’s a lot of Covid information out there, and a lot of it is confusing. Sometimes there’s a source that combines smarts, facts and a style of communicating that really works for me. Below is one of those posts, and very timely one to boot.

This bit of critical information became very real to us when I asked my physician father if we had to be masked indoors all the time with Charlie even if there was a good chance of already being infected (it was 10 days from exposure to test).

He explained that the initial amount of virus as well as EXPOSURE OVER TIME can affect how sick you get even after initially infected. That bit of information, easily absorbed in a visual and visceral way, made it much easier for me to embrace this whole-family, always-masked Isolation stage with a bit of hope. Having an action that I can take to help my family is taking back a little bit of my role as a parent.

The saddest thing for parents and caretakers is when this thing gets in your home. Until now, this house was our safe place. The very place where we had stayed for so long to protect them.

——-

Here is the post I’m referring to:

Hi, I'm back as Robin-Schoenthaler-the-Boston-cancer-doctor-who-writes-about-Covid.

(And it’s okay with me if you want to share.)

Today I’m talking about how Masks May Be Magic.

Massachusetts is still okay, trending up a bit in terms of numbers of cases but hospitals are fine, deaths are low.  

The rest of the US outside of the Northeast:  it’s just unspeakable.  The numbers are unfathomable.  

How bad is it? 

Here’s an analogy:  

More or less, the US is having one Wuhan a day.  Remember how terrible Wuhan was and ended up being?  That many cases are happening every day in the US.  

Here’s some statistics: 

How fast are cases exploding? 

0 cases to 1 million cases: 98 days

1 million to 2 million cases: 44 days

2 million to 3 million cases: 27 days 

3 million to 4 million cases: 14 days

 

Here’s a story: 

Every Thursday night I listen to this whiz kid Infectious Disease doc from Texas talk about Covid.  She talks non-stop for an hour and whips through about 55 papers, summarizing study after study after study.  She’s like the kid in high school who was absolutely the smartest person in the room and made it look easy; she’s amazing.  

At a recent broadcast she was quoting a paper and all of a sudden she started crying.  I couldn’t even figure out what was happening (I was doing dishes in my Eternal Multitasking Fashion) but when I stopped loading the dishwasher and looked at my computer screen, there she was, wiping her eyes and weeping.  That’s what life is like in Texas.  

In the midst of this misery, let’s talk about something positive.  Let’s talk about masks.  

I love masks.  Right now they feel like are like our magic protectors, like holding garlic up in front of Dracula, or wearing a special amulet that keeps the evil eye away.  

Or maybe like wearing a condom and not getting syphilis.

Why are masks particularly important with Covid?  

Well, as with Everything Covid, “we are building the plane while we fly it.”  We are accumulating data as fast as we can and some trends look promising. While some of this may change over time, for now this is what we know.  

First off, it appears, unbelievably, that the rate of people who are infected but have no symptoms is around forty percent.  (These are people who had positive nose swabs but stay completely asymptomatic.)

FORTY PERCENT!  It’s awesome that four out of ten people don’t suffer from the disease at all, don’t have long-term sequelae, etc.  

But it also means four out of ten people who have Covid have absolutely no idea they are infected, don’t know they’re contagious, don’t realize that every time they speak/yell/cough/sneeze they may be spewing tons of infected confetti all over the place, don’t know they may be an actual danger to family and friends. 

But if they're wearing a mask, they’re not so dangerous.  

There is now a good amount of research, old and new, showing masks filter out the majority of viral particles.  All masks matter, to varying degrees.  Without getting into a song and dance about the exact numbers, here’s the basics: 

 --N95s are better than surgical masks

 --cloth masks are way better than nothing

 --two masks (one on me, one on you) are better than one

 --having it on your chin doesn’t work 

Masks can work to protect other people from your infection. 

and

Masks can work to protect you from other people’s infection. 

and furthermore

Masks can work to protect you from getting ANY virus inside you. 

Masks can protect you from getting LOTS of virus inside of you.  

You always need a certain amount of viruses spewed at you like the above mentioned confetti to get sick. It can’t be just one solo virus — it has to be thousands.  Masks have been shown to cut those numbers down.  

Even better, there is evidence that the volume of virus that gets into your mouth or nose is related to how sick you get.  So when you wear a mask and hang out with people wearing masks, early studies seem to indicate you are increasing your chances of having milder disease. 

It even appears that masking increases the rates of being asymptomatic!  In some very interesting early studies, we are seeing this happen. It’s happened on cruise ships, it’s happened in food processing plants — even in the midst of big outbreaks, infected people who use masks are more likely to be completely without symptoms.

When we don’t wear masks, we have more deaths. We saw this so tragically in Italy and New York among health care workers. 

When you do have places mostly masking (eg >80%) you may well see fewer deaths.  San Francisco (a great masking place, like Boston) has had ONE death since July 16 despite 1500 new cases.  And deaths have stayed low post-surge in the Far East countries where masking is part of the cultural norm and most countries where masking had been mandatory. 

This is not to say that masking is a miracle cure-all; we still need physical distancing and hand washing and staying home when sick.

Still, what a lot of reasons to wear a mask: 

 — you don’t have to walk around with the guilt of being Patient Zero

 — you have less chance of getting it

 — you probably have a higher chance of being asymptomatic

 — you may well have less chance of getting super sick

 — you may have less chance of dying of it

And you won't make your doctor burst into tears in the middle of a presentation.

by Robin Schoenthaler July 26, 2020, Facebook.

In No One We Trust

I had a blind spot.

I wear a mask all day at work, we require our customers to do so too, and we control the entry to the store to keep capacity low. We only see my mom outdoors, and with masks on. We’ve cancelled every trip, even Elkhart Lake because the hotel didn’t have a mask policy for guests. We haven’t set foot in a store or a restaurant since March. Paulie is working from home indefinitely. Viv’s two-week day camp doesn’t allow contact with parents, requires masks when indoors (yes for the kids too), does temperature checks and screening. Viv’s regular summer daycare has the same tight procedures—no parents in the building, masks, no crossover with groups of kids, temperature checks and screening.

Charlie.

Charlies daycare, which we started back five weeks ago, just didn’t ramp up the way I expected. Their occupancy when we started was super low, and I saw masks on about half the parents. When I saw an unmasked parent, I just waited in the car to time my pick up or drop off after they exited. They had hand sanitizing stations, closed early for daily cleaning, and a list of covid protocols that included social distancing, no room crossing, etc.

But the two biggies—controlling entry in the building and masks. On those they seemed to drag their feet. I kept nudging; I asked, I wrote. When I sent a list of my concerns, especially compared to the two other centers we experienced doing it better, they only made the two smallest changes on my list. They buried their response to the mask question in a technical non-answer four paragraphs down. As the numbers continued to rise these last two weeks my gut said something isn’t right.

But my heart.

My heart just didn’t want it to be true. My heart kept saying:

We love Miss V. Charlie loves Miss V.

I want him to have that same experience in her room that Viv had.

We love Miss K and Miss C and Miss A. They know him, they care about him. They know his stubbornness and laugh at his silliness. And Miss S! Miss S who recorded story time EVERY DAY for weeks during shut down! 

He needs the interaction, he needs to see his playmates.

He’s so much better since he’s been back! Behavior, attitude, resiliency!

He’s so much happier and energetic.

He loves his playmates, he talks about them all the time and is so happy to see them every morning.

He needs the routine.

I don’t want to abandon my friends. My co-parents. (Daycare providers are our co-parents.)

 

I kept thinking, maybe just need more time to get it, they will see the writing on the wall with the numbers. Maybe they have good reasons, maybe I just don’t understand, maybe there’s something they know that I don’t? (about daycare regulations). These people take care of my family. They are part of my family structure. They are trusted. But, but...why is the director not wearing a mask? Why is the owner dodging my questions? 

The day that we finally said, nope, they have to adopt masks or we will pull him out, the day that we had finally decided was our deadline, was the literal day that they had a teacher test positive. One of Charlie’s teachers. 

As I communicated more these past two distressing days with other parents and teachers, it became clear that we were not alone in our concerns. And that we had been misled. They had not been truthful when I asked if other parents had concerns. It is clear they had no intention of ever adopting a mandatory mask policy. In fact, in the days just prior to the positive case, they had received an exception to the City of Milwaukee mask mandate that they had ACTIVELY APPLIED FOR. 

When we picked Charlie up, in total crisis mode, I asked the OWNER of the center, “Why no masks!?”

She replied “Well, we encourage masks”, as she handed me the Close Contact Exposure notice from the health department

”Will you make them mandatory now? Now that you HAVE A POSITIVE CASE? They reduce transmission!” I screamed, unable to contain my rage.

”Well, it depends what you read, not everyone believes...” Believes. That word.

This is the insidious danger. This woman, who controls the livelihoods of 20+ people, who had power over the well-being of 40+ families and children, doesn’t BELIEVE in masks.

And that failure to understand science, that failure to trust experts, that failure to see your community and employees and clients as worth taking extra precautions for, that failure to see your organization as part of the larger fabric of society has broken our lives.

And our hearts.

 

--------

(7/21 Update and Clarification: they applied for an exception to the City of Milwaukee mask mandate for children age 3. They complied with the City of Milwaukee ordinance for adults (staff, teachers, parents) to wear masks IN ONLY THEIR LOCATION THAT FELL UNDER THAT ORDINANCE. They did not apply that same protocol to their other locations, because, as they repeated in two emails and a phone call, our location's municipality did not have an ordinance). 

Big Thoughts for a Little Guy

“Firefighter Dan came to our school Mama and we sat outside and he put on a funny mask and we got to talk to him and ask him questions after he gave us badge stickers”.

Oh, what question did you ask Firefighter Dan, Charlie?

“I asked him about the Great Chicago Fire”.

Wait, what? You asked about what?

“Yep, but Firefighter Dan didn’t know too much”. (shakes head)

A Little Bit of Fun

Things are not back to normal. They shouldn’t be. The kids are back in daycare and I’m back at the store, which means no other activities for us, our exposure is just too great. I’m worried for myself and for others. I’m worried I’ll give it to someone. So, while the rest of the world returns to entertainment and bars like nothing ever happened, we are doing a daily balancing act.

To treat the kids this weekend to a bit of at-home summertime “normal”, I ordered a HUGE inflatable kiddie pool water park thingie...

It came in a tiny box.

This is going to be fun.

Scary New World, Same Idiots

I went out beyond my house yesterday for the first time in many weeks. My exciting adventures out into the world have never before had such a modest destination. How did it feel? What thrilling things did I experience? First, I have forgotten how to drive. And Brown Deer Road is still uuuuuuugly.

When the governor relaxed some restrictions for retail businesses last week, I was extremely nervous. I felt pushed to move faster than I could be ready for, it moved the timeline up by two weeks. But I was coming around, with every preparation it got easier to imagine a store being open. And now finally having help (PPP funding means my furloughed coworkers are back!), I felt a bit better that it could be done safely. I was beginning to see the path.

Then, wham, the court knocked down the Stay At Home order, and people got stupid. 

Driving out to the shop I saw many groups of clustered people, very few masks, stores open, clumps of people waiting in unspaced lines and inside small stores, non-family groups walking...a city-wide rush to be alive. All made worse by a sunny day.

Driving down three commercial strips I could see many examples of good Covid and bad Covid practices in action, sometimes right next to each other.

Crowds of people waiting inside closed doors at the Jimmy Johns? Not good. A cluttered second hand junk stop with no clear shopping path? Not good. Groups of friends outside catching up and loving on a neighbors puppy dog? Nice, but not good. The lake must be the new destination for lesbian couples because no way dozens of pairs of walking ladies are all each related.

You know why I get upset when I see someone out without a mask? Because even though yes, you probably don’t need it on a solitary walk, I don’t know your plans.

I don’t know when I might turn a corner and my solitary walk bumps face first into your solitary walk. I don’t know if you have a mask in your pocket and just needed a break. I don’t know if you aren’t wearing one because you forgot it, or because you don’t care about the risks to yourself and others. No mask leaves so many questions.
Wearing a mask says you’ve taken the time, the effort to be safer. It takes effort to get one or make one, it takes priveledge in many cases. A mask is a sign that you’re taking this seriously and I can trust you. And if you are privileged, helllloooo my white lady neighbors...who the fuck do you think you are not to wear one? Oh right, that says exactly who you are.

Back to my drive...from the road I could see that Traders Joes has it right, with spots marked outside where folks were waiting 6’ apart (actually looked like maybe 8’). I felt confident that I could go there and be as safe as possible. (If I ever dared into a grocery store again. I have got the online ordering & random night time delivery thing down, love it, might never go back).  The risks are too high, the chances too random to allow myself to feel anything but secure.

But that’s just my concern for myself and my family. What about the employees? The staff that have to be there to serve and corral the reckless? Try to manage customers and sanitation when the company didn’t get them enough equipment or instructions? Who do you think you are to put your need for a sandwich above their health and safety? Who are these corporations that have opened without proper training, supplies, and support? I won’t be a part of that. If my destination doesn’t do it right, I’m not going.

As you can see, I even like my parking socially distanced.

 

Winning Parenthood

Here is a photo of 3 1/2 year old Charlie painting the basement wall during quarantine to show that Paulie isn't always a softie.

Paulie and I have long argued that he dotes on the kids too much. Of course, the other side of that argument is that I am Slacker Mom. Or Strict Mom. Or just Exhausted Mom.

 

Tonight, as usual, tired Paulie was drawing pictures of the full cast of The Muppets on demand, making multiple snacks, and sitting in a chair 5" off the ground. I offered to take care of the kids the remainder of the night so he could go rest early. Two minutes later Charlie announces it's nighttime, puts down his crayon and goes up the stairs by himself. He gets undressed and tucks himself in. Viv makes them self an ice cream treat and then follows.

 

So, I'm either Slacker Mom or completely, 100% totally boring to my kids.

 

 

 

Timing Is Everything

(Delivery truck and crew by Viv, circa 2018)

Pro Tip: when supporting small and mid-sized businesses, keep to the services and products they have OFFERED. Don’t ask for more. Don’t ask for an exception. Don’t ask for shit Karen. 

The phased back to work plan can work, but only if we observe all the safety guidelines. The next phase can’t happen is the first phase fails.

Don’t assume everyone has the capabilities to meet those safety procedures right this minute. Just because they technically CAN do business doesn’t mean they are READY to do business.

Many businesses laid off and furloughed their staff.  Bringing staff back too soon is financially risky, and not the right decision for folks who make $50k or less. Many staff CAN’T come back because they have underlying health conditions or are caring for their own families. Or they don’t want to because they know their job functions are inherently risky or that their employer may not be capable of making their work environment safe. Or they may just not be ready to come back for WHATEVER DAMN REASON THEY HAVE THAT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS ACTUALLY.

Businesses literally probably cannot physically do more than what they offered you. Be grateful.

Covid Kids

Easter is a bit different this year. No big beautiful family meal at Aunt Lisa’s, no dressing up fancy and no Easter egg hunt at the park. Instead only six eggs to color, scrounging up strange kitchen drawer candy, raiding the present closet for a basket filler.

This is week four of the quarantine, week four of the emotional roller coaster, first full week of homeschooling, second week where I have no sales team left to work with, fourth week of no customers, fourth week of no answers. 

What will the kids remember? The tears and arguments? The short tempered parents? Being separated from friends and grandparents?

Probably not. They are ages three and seven. They will remember the year the Easter Bunny brought legos instead of marshmallow eggs. (It’s a dangerous precedent really.)

I remember in tough times, not the trouble itself so much as the comfort my mom employed. Sometimes it was for her comfort, like her favorite food (creamed eggs on toast), sometimes for our comfort like holding my head in a certain squeeze, or reading at the end of her bed.

I don’t need the iron this morning, or a fresh pair of tights, or a pan of food to bring, or to rush out the door hollering to “get in the car or else!”.

But I sure do need some hope.

Some hope to help me take these six eggs and, like the lemon to lemonade adage, make something of them. Maybe egg salad. 

But not creamed eggs on toast. Because it’s gross.

At Home Learning

I’ll always question why I asssumed it was safe to have the kids at Grandmas house the first week and half. Once I developed a cold (only one day of low fever, no other covid symptoms), it came crashing down on me just how selfish and risky that was. I hope that lesson wasn’t learned too late.

Now that they are at home with us all day every day, I’m learning first-hand how amazing Grandma time was —activities, schedule, lessons schoolwork. And the snacks! Oh the snacks. I’m finding out just how impossible is it to Work From Home and Parent At Home and Also Be A Teacher. It is impossible.

You know those work-from-home memes about discovering the “work personality” of your spouse? Paulie is about exactly what I expected, though slightly more organized. In contrast, during their first classroom video meeting, I was surprised to find out my kid, my very quiet kid, is the bold over-sharer! Good to know.

And one final lesson during this pandemic—the entire first two weeks I thought “WFH” stood for What Fucking Hell, not Work From Home.

I like my version better.

The World on Fire

This has been one of the hardest weeks of my life. We say that and then something worse happens. I began this blog because of 9/11. 

This is worse. Worse personally because I have more to lose. Professionally because I have more responsibility. Emotionally because I also lost a friend to fucking murder last week. And for the world, because it involves the entire world. (Though the fallout of the wars after 9/11 would also qualify but who’s keeping track).

In trying to make sense of what we are facing with this virus, I’ve been overwhelmed by the scientific information, underwhelmed by the government response, and feel generally confused.

The post copied below really helped me today.

I was finally successful in quitting smoking years ago because I heard a radio snippet beautifully describing what is actually happening to your lungs during morning cough. The lungs sweepers are waking up and sweeping out the junk like seaweed in the waves and when you take that first delicious morning smoke, that puts them to sleep and they wilt and stop working and that is why the cough subsides.

This firebreak analogy speaks to me in the same powerful way:

——————————-

 

Hi Friends:  It has been a week since my last post.  If you understood it, you realize that the increasing numbers of people with Covid 19 in the US are what we would have expected.  We have had an escalation of interventions as a reaction to the numbers which might give us pause to think we are worse off.  This is not true.  If you shoot an arrow, it takes time to hit the target.  If you intervene in a pandemic, it takes 4 weeks to know if the intervention was successful. On March 9th, the cover of the New Yorker showed our president with a mask over his eyes. Since then, the arrows have been launched..  Let me provide an example of what is happening that I hope helps you understand our current situation.

 

Imagine a huge forest.  Lightening hits a tree, a fire starts and begins to grow.  Smoke is seen but no sky jumpers are sent in because the lookout person is probably exaggerating. (This is the point at which we could have confined the virus).   The fire grows out in all directions getting larger and larger.   It becomes impossible to ignore and the decision is made to create a firebreak.  The firebreak needs to encircle the entire fire. Measures are taken and creation of the firebreak is underway.  (Increased testing, social distancing, and closing public places) The bosses know the fire is increasing, and nothing can be done to save the trees between the firebreak and the flames.  (The current numbers we are seeing).  Will their intervention hold?  As the fire comes closer, the bosses question whether it is big enough to hold back the umrelenting inferno.  They evacuate houses on the non-fire side (Telling people at high risk to stay home and call for extra help.)  The bosses recognize that when the fire hits the firebreak, sparks will fall all over the forest and they will need to be aggressive in trying to put them out.(Without testing, the sparks are landing and we do not know where to start stomping them out.)  If there are too many new fires started, the firebreak only slows things down but still allows time for more help to arrive in the form of more weapons (Testing, drugs(Remdesivir is going into a large study) and vaccines) or rain (Summertime and the realization that the vast majority of trees will withstand the fire, i.e. big Minnesota pines survive and then release pine cones only after heat! )

 

Our fire, Covid 19, is a nasty bug that first emerged in an outdoor open marketplace in Wuhan, China in early December.  The person who contracted the virus unfortunately got on a subway in a metropolis of 11 million people. The virus was officially recognized when 41 people came down with pneumonia 27 of whom had been in this same market and 14 from other parts of the city.  On Jan 1, China informed the World Health Organization (WHO) and closed the market. CV 19 then spread from Wuhan to a cruise ship, to a megachurch in South Korea and to a mosque in Iran. The germ loves crowds and hitching rides on asymptomatic people. Italy went from 3 dead to 3000 in one month. 

 

In three weeks or so, we should be able to see if our current actions, our firebreak (Social distancing and school closings etc.) have helped.   Nothing has happened this week in the U.S. that was unexpected with regard to the number of people infected. All of these infections are the result of our past inaction.

 

So, what to do? Try to ignore the daily heat being generated in the media.  Limit your TV watching of news and social media because it is designed to increase anxiety. There is a lot of nonsense, too.  NPR is calm and does a nice summary.  (Yesterday’s newscast ended with a performance by Yo Yo Mah, the famed cellist.  ‘Songs of Comfort’ provides a way to use the arts as a positive resource in times of crisis). If you are restricted to a home quarantine, stay put along with anyone who lives with you. (My suggestion.)  Interestingly, we are in a phase where the absolute risk of an individual contracting Covid 19 in the next three weeks is low. (The fire is small compared to the forest).  The reason we have built a firewall is to eliminate the possibility of a person with Covid 19 from passing it on to others.  If restricted to home… learn from the cloistered nuns.  Set up a daily schedule of routines. For example,  I no longer have a swimming pool to go to, so I started Yoga. Joan is learning the Ukulele.  Bake bread.  The Washington Post reminds us that Isaac Newton had to leave the university in 1665 because of a plague.  He went to a farm to think.  It was during this time that he began his work in calculus, theories on gravity and light. Thinking and research at home may lead to something.  Have your uninfected neighbors help you by bringing supplies to your doorstep when they go out.  (Work out a neighborhood system).

 

The average incubation period for Covid 19 is about six days, and the main symptoms last on average six days.  Then recovery. The average time to hospitalization from onset of symptoms is about six days and marked with shortness of breath and fever. If you have symptoms of “flu” at this stage in the epidemic, you probably do have the flu, and not Covid 19. It would be nice to have testing available to find out and we will soon.  The recognized cases will rise as we do more testing and stop missing mild cases.  the death rate is the number to watch regarding progress.  Four weeks from now, we will see if we have slowed this thing down. It will be brutal for awhile.   It is hard watching a maelstrom rushing toward you hoping the firebreak will hold. We live with anxiety or faith.  Personally, I do believe I hear planes coming with lots of fire retardants!

 

If you want to imagine killing the nasty virus, imagine doing this experiment.  Fill a sink with water.  Pour some cooking oil over the water’s surface.  Then add one drop of liquid soap.  Instantly, the oil’s film will disappear.  Just like a virus membrane!  That is what soap does to this virus.  Wash your hands frequently and always for 20 seconds to get that soap in all the little crevices.   In the end, there is no doubt, Covid 19, the fire, will end, and we will move on. We will be funding NIH and CDC a lot more! I hope these thoughts provide additional context for whatever you are experiencing and help with your understanding.  (John Bachman Facebook 3/19/20)

Unlearning Society

I honest to god was shocked when I found out intersex “correction” surgeries on newborn babies are still happening. I thought that doctors would use some other more modern scientific method to determine gender. Of course at the time I ignorantly assumed gender was always in some way physical (chromosomes?). I know better now.

I learned that these surgeries were still happening during a casual discussion of all the various ways gender occurs naturally and how far we’ve progressed in understanding. Or so I thought.

As my physician father said, “It’s not a medical problem, it’s a society problem”.

Ok boomer, you’re right on this one. :)

(I’m referencing this article:https://www.cnn.com/2020/01/10/us/intersex-surgeries-gothere/index.html)

 

 

 

These Are The Best Days

Today three-year-old Charlie grasped me from behind with both of his little stick arms, buried his face in my ass crack and said “Your butt is amaaaaaazing!”

Happy Birthday me.

Dad Jokes

Thanksgiving at the Osthoff, 2019.

This is the first weekend away that we forgot to pack the stroller...and turns out we don’t need it. Another parenting milestone. Paulie has also reached a new level...a new level of Dadness.

We treated ourselves to a couples massage.

Me: “This will be fun, we’ve never done a “couple” thing before!”

Paulie: “Sure we have, we have a “couple” of kids!”

ba dum bum

Thanksgiving Wishes

It was a year ago next week that we packed up and moved into the temporary ‘partment (as Charlie called it) across the street so that our entire first floor could be gutted and an actual kitchen installed. We crossed our fingers that we had chosen the contractor wisely, grateful we could finally take the leap and do it. 

This year I am grateful daily for the comfort, the function, the new found CLEAN that is our now lovely home. It is a dream, a six years long wish, a vision come true.

But can I get one more holiday wish?

Recipes. Actual recipes. Not blogs, not editorials, not profiles, not photo essays. I don’t care how you FEEL about the turnips Bethany, I. just. want. the. recipe.

Imagine if Aunt Fern had used fifteen index cards for the ambrosia.

Home Is Where The Mortgage Is

 

This fall’s early snow delayed taking the best “After” shots, but I don’t hate the way it camouflaged the crummy roof. The house exterior looks amazing, but it’s 58 degrees and breezy inside. Next year, storm windows. The year after that, condo.

Mama’s Little Acorn

Charlie is at my favorite age (so far). He wants to be a helper, his language is exploding, and he still wants to cuddle. He is also a smart ass.

I’ve spent the last twenty minutes trying to understand what a “cat load” is and why the absence of one would cause so much distress and so many tears. Catalog. He wanted the catalog. 

After that was resolved, and our Sunday morning was once again peaceful, I asked him to clean up his playroom:

“No, Mama, I’m not available”.

Come Out with Tits Swinging

A middle-aged dude just rolled up in his Mercedes, slowed down, pulled close to the curb, and TOSSED HIS GARBAGE BOTTLE IN MY COMPOST BIN. I am over 45, bra-less in a nightgown and slippers and I am enraged. All I need is curlers and you can see the picture. I ran out to the street. If I'd been faster and if it wasn't so early in the morning, I would have thrown it back at his sedan and yelled. This is what home ownership does to a person.

 

My favorite part of these incidents is that SHOREWOOD IS REALLY SMALL. Dude, I know your car. Dude, I know YOU.

 

I'm currently taking suggestions for the note I'll leave when I return the bottle to the hood of his car. Nice detail: the bottle is full of HIS SUNFLOWER SEED SHELLS.

 

Also, currently taking suggestions on paint colors for the house trim. Home ownership has many curses.

Resting Mom Face

 

I’m in my chair having a beer.

 

Viv just asked me to come see if the tv show she wants to watch is one we have to pay for. 

 

I gave her my phone to go take a picture of the tv screen and walk it back over to me. 

 

My parenting skills have peaked.

 

This Is Your Brain On Anxiety

Mama, making pancakes: “Viv, is it one egg or two? I can never remember”

Viv: “One. It’s one egg.”

Charlie, running past at top speed, naked:  “Or TWO, maybe TWO!”

Still Life with Fake Poop

It’s hard to have the energy at the end of a work day, when you’ve given all your “nice” to everyone else, to listen to a toddler tell a story. It’s impossible to remember the cute thing a kid said a day later. I’m hoping my camera lens and a few zingers we managed to capture on paper will be enough to remind us years from now (should we survive that long) of that time the kids did that thing once with the stuff at that place.

Also, it will always be “Butt Lightyear”.

Traffic and Weather Together on the 8s

Charliepants: "Mama, can you put on your talking show?".

Mama,smiling and thinking: See, all the NPR will pay off. Screw Paulie and his Arthur and his singalongs and his knowing all the names on Paw Patrol. Little kids DO like the things I like. I AM a fun mom.

"Oh honey, do you like mama's talking show?" 

Charliepants: "No, YOU do."

 

The Days Are So Long, The Years So Fast

When I give him food that is hot, with the predictable parental warning—“wait for it to cool down honey”, Charlie says “Warm, Mama, warm. I’m going to wait for it to get WARM.” 

Happy Birthday Charlie.

You adorable little shit.

 

Papa’s Day

A little tidbit to share in honor of my kids papa whom I could not have done a better job selecting. (Yes, I turned that accolade right back to myself. Sorry not sorry I’m really proud of that accomplishment; ie: powering through my fertile thirties solo and happy).

Me: “Thanks for picking up greek food, that’s just what I needed, I’m so tired from work tonight.”

Charming Husband: “Not all gyros wear capes!”

 

Always Believe The Kids

I just found out that what the kids call “Night Cat”, the creature I assumed was an imaginary figure of bedtime story imaginations and toddler conversations, is in fact, real. And now I have to move.

No Mama

”Whatcha doing?”

”Just hanging out.”

”No Mama! We are hanging IN. We are IN the house”.

 

Also I Have Toast In My Pocket Right Now

A millennial recently asked me what it’s like to have kids and be married. In summary: 

”Hey, look how cute these undies I got at Costco are!”

No One Right Way To Do It

I’m stuck. I’m mentally obsessing with work things I can’t control, that don’t really matter in the big picture, and in general my big picture is currently very hard to see. Now that the house is (mostly) done and the local election is over, I don’t have anything new to put my rushing brain to. I’m feeling a bit like a gerbil on a wheel. Lots of energy, no direction.

This isn’t unusual for me, it comes with the spring daylight (SAD likes to fuck with you coming and going). It too shall pass.

In the meantime, maybe I can try my kids approach to living in the moment and going with the flow.

On the other hand, maybe I should just teach them how to use a damn slide. 

Yellow Flag

The ruckus was terrible. Stomping feet up the stairs, the sound of the high pressure shower setting splashing water everywhere, the unmistakable whine of a resisting toddler.

What on earth is going on?

After some intervention, my best soothing voice and a little triage—it was poop. 

“Honey, poop is not an emergency”.

”It is when it happens during qualifying!!”

Point taken.

Totally Under Control

We’re on hour two of Easter basket amusement. Who says kids don’t like post it notes and twist ties? Also, Paulie is barfing downstairs. In the bathroom that has plastic garbage bags taped up on the walls where we ripped out the shower tile.  {Sips coffee}

Sounds About Right

 (photo cred Vivi)

Me: “You said ‘Aldi’s’ little while ago, now there’s an Aldi ad in my feed. I’ve never had an Aldi ad before.”

Mom: “So what?”

Me: “It’s listening, I swear the devices are listening”

Mom: “What? Ooh, that’s spooky....”

Also Mom: holds up iPad, “SEX!”

You Are A Beautiful Thing

Sunday is baking day at home.

”I like cookies when they are warm because they are soft. Soft cookies are better for sneaking up on people, because you can still have a snack while you are doing your sneaking, but because they aren’t crunchy, they can’t hear you.”

Worth It

     We are moved back in to the house, the temporary apartment has been emptied and cleaned. I still have boxes and boxes to go through in the basement, as well as furniture to move upstairs and art to rehang. Paulie is chipping away at painting ceilings, touching up walls, reinstalling blinds and installing light fixtures. But overall, it’s done. The kitchen, done. The mud room, done. The back family room, done. The floors, done. The Book Shower, done. 

    When I captured this moment, I thought, “Worth every penny”. And then I noticed it was Captain Underpants, and I thought, well, can’t win em all.

 

And Then Everybody Clapped

Some moments with toddlers are unforgettable, some are unbelievable, and some are one hundred percent the legacy of Pat Mikkelsen’s child rearing.

Me: “Oh Charlie, you are so fucking beautiful!”

Charlie: “Mama, you’re fucking beautiful every day!”