What's Better than a Polar Bear?

Evidently nothing.

Today I asked Lins, "What is your favorite thing in the world?" I was trying to come up with ideas for her 1-year-after-being-admitted-to-the-hospital party (we've got to come up with a better name). Without missing a beat she says, "Polar bears."

Okay. Polar bears. Well, I was hoping for a food. Or an activity. But polar bears. Hmm.

So, I tried again. "Lindsay, what's your second favorite thing in the world?" Again, without missing a beat. "Flamingoes."

Hmm. Okay. Flamingoes.

"Mama, ask me my third favorite!"

"Okay, Lindsay, what's your third favorite thing in the world?" a second's pause ... "Trains!"

I was starting to get tickled. "And your fourth favorite thing?" She was laying on my lap, head upside down, staring directly at her little table. "My little table."

"What about Michael? Your family?" She smiled. "Yes, yes, yes. Mama, you're my fifth. And daddy, you're my sixth. Polar bears, then flamingoes, then trains, then my table, then..." then... she lost her train of thought.

Don't you just love love love children?

cash for cancer

When Lins was in the hospital, we absolutely resisted/ avoided/ shunned other cancer parents. It may sound strange. But becoming part of the "cancer club" was absolutely terrifying. You may as well sign the resignation. Admit defeat.

Fast-forward 6 months. Not a single day passes without the thought, "Is she pale?", "Is the cancer back?" When you mention this worry to friends, other parents even, they look a little surprised. Really? they ask. I try to keep quiet. Not acknowledge the anxiety. Or at least not pass it on to others.

So, something had to be done. Daily worry, fear, dread, anticipation. That's no good. I started looking at other kid's cancer pages (Caring Bridge sites). Something I swore I'd never do. I didn't want to get sucked into that world. And then another mom posted a fundraiser. St. Baldrick's. Get it? Bald-rick's.

I started nagging Matt. You should shave your head. Really. Lindsay would love it. And I nagged some more. I was practically begging him to join the cancer club. Finally I gave up. And that very day I came home and he had raised about $600.

We've been hitting up everyone we know for donations and on Sept 12, he's going bald. It will be almost a year to the day that Lindsay's hair fell out. Of course we can turn any day into an anniversary right now. This fundraising has jerked us out of our self pity and worry. Every hour on the hour we check our totals. We're like kids at Christmas, waiting for Santa to come. Hopefully he's bringing cash. It's going to a great cause!

not really an unschooler

how can you be an unschooler if you don't stay home with your kids?

well, let's see...

there's the conversation when you come home from work:
(1) when your kids asked what you did at work today (yes, my kids ask this) you actually tell them -- I sat on my ass all day OR I euthanized a cat because the owner couldn't afford treatment OR I cut out a uterus in the name of resolving the pet overpopulation problem (Sure, you might sugar-coat it a tad, but ultimately you share your life just as they share theirs)
(2) you joke with them just as you joke with your husband and friends -- "Michael did you drive the car today?" sure, it's not the exact joke you'd use with your husband ... with your husband you might say, "What did you do all day? Bang the neighbor?" But the sarcasm and jest is similar. Just a tad more age-appropriate.
(3) you READ READ READ to them - you don't come home and try to engage in a "lesson". You just read, or paint, or color, or cook, or dance, or do whatever their brains and bodies tell them it's time to do. And you don't do this only because they are your children and you are hoping to entertain them. You do this because they are lead to do it and you're their mama who wants to participate in their joy.
(4) You try as hard as you possibly can to SILENCE the inner voice that is telling you "they're not reading on the level of other 4 year old" or "painting" or "speaking" or "potty-training as fast as other 2 year olds". You remember how much you resent being compared to your colleagues. And you TRUST THE PROCESS.

cancer schmancer, who wants a drink?

A day will come when we are no longer unschooling caner, and we are just unschooling. Right? I just wonder when that's going to be.

I've always resented time away from my children. Even before leukemia. As a working mom with a stay-at-home husband, I am simultaneously grateful and resentful. I want to be home. I want to play legos. I want to make dinner. I want to take the kids to the Broad St Artists Co-op for steamers (and a cup of coffee for me, of course). What's wrong with that?

But after leukemia, it's worse. During chemo, I was the primary at-home. Well, really stay-at-hospital mom. I was there changing sheets, carrying back and forth to the art table, surfing you tube for jellyfish videos.

Then chemo ended. And thank god it did. But that meant an end to at-home and a return to work. Now I shouldn't complain. My typical work week is 4 long days. So I get three days with the kids. That's better than most. But this summer we're super busy and a little understaffed, so I'm working 5-6 days a week. And all I can think about is what have I learned from all of this? "This" being leukemia, not work.

I used to think I wouldn't be a good "at-home". That Matt is more patient and has more faith in the unschooling "process". "Trust the process" ... well, that's not my style. But life in the hospital showed me that I could do it. And now I wish I was. Instead I'm off to work at 7:15 am and home after 7 pm. And I feel we're pulling farther and farther away from unschooling as our lives become more and more conventional.

So, I need to stop looking at this as unschooling cancer. That's what I did in the hospital. It's unschooling. And whether I'm home or Matt's home, our kids are free-range monkeys. Learning, growing, living.

Disney and the Aftermath

Disney, our Make a Wish trip, was phenomenal. Absolutely phenomenal. As one who has always been a little anti-Disney, thinking they are way too consumeristic ... well, I take it all back. The princesses, the mouse, the duck, all of it, was absolutely fabulous. Every minute. We stayed at the Give Kids the World Village - a resort with villas specifically for Make a Wish families.

But now we're home. And I'm back to work. And turning into the crabby mother bear that I don't want to be. Jealous of Matt that he gets to stay home. Short tempered when I have to leave for work in the morning. Complaining that I won't see the kids all day. Of course, I get a lot of time off. So I know I'm being unreasonable. Grown ups have to work. And I have a pretty good job. But I want Michael and Lindsay time!!!!

I'm sure some of this is the Disney aftermath. You can't be treated like a princess (or at least the mother of a princess) for a week, complete with all the ice cream you could want (seriously, ice cream parlor opens at GKTW at 9:30 am, banana splits, floats, cones, cups, sprinkles, you name it and it's yours). But I digress. You couldn't be treated like that for a week and not expect a little adjustment when you return to the real world. Could you?

Perhaps one of these days I'll write about how much I love my job. Or about how, deep down, I just know that Matt is the better at-home parent - he's so patient, easy-going. But today, I'll just moan about the fact that I want to go back to Disney and ride the tea cups and eat ice cream and watch the kids faces shine with delight!

Loving the Front Porch

Some days I look around the house and think, "Jesus, we're home!" Generally I take it for granted. But every once in a while I remember. Then I take a deep breath and soak it all in.

There is no front porch at the hospital. No comfy couch. With only one room, you can't turn up the TV and laugh your ass off at The Office or 30 Rock. There is no grassy back yard with camping chairs and a cold beer.

Life at home is pretty good.

Life After the Hospital

I forget about this blog. I'm not sure why. I run through my on-line to-do list: (1) gmail (1162 unread messages) (2) facebook (139 new requests), (3) caring bridge.

I haven't been posting on Caring Bridge lately. What would I say? That I have an ulcer. That on mornings when I go to work, I usually start the day vomiting. That I go to bed at 8 pm because I'm just that exhausted. No one wants to hear that.

Being out of the hospital is supposed to be wonderful. And it is. But every day I think about cancer. Even as her hair grows back, I wonder, will she get to keep it this time? Or is there another round of chemo waiting? And if there is, what then?

And with being home, there is the obligation of work. "Normalcy". The days are long, but we're slow. And all I really care about is when I can escape to see the fam. When we're busy, it isn't as bad. With being busy, there are interesting cases and income ... and that will help us get back on our feet after the 6 month hospital stay. But when there are no patients and still I have to sit at work, I'm furious. Wasted time. 0 dollars an hour ... I'd rather be home, earning at the same rate.

And I suppose I should be thankful. Thankful that we're out of the hospital. Thankful that we're all together again. Thankful that I have a job despite the shitty economy. But I'm not that kind of woman.

I'm waiting for something to happen. Holding my breath. Hoping it doesn't comes. How will I know when it's safe to breathe again?