a wedding and a birthday

It was, I am sorry to say it, another stressful week. So much that when LD stumbled into the kitchen at 5am on Saturday he moaned "Why is it even our fun activities involve sleep deprivation?"

LD, Munch, and I piled into the car. Three cups of coffee, two potty breaks, and 190 miles later we arrived at the wedding ceremony of a good friend from med school. In the car I changed into the salwar kameez I bought (online) for the ceremony, which was held at a Sikh temple just outside my friend's hometown. I had bought what I thought was a girl's version for Munch, but when it arrived it was clearly not a "girl's small" but a woman's small. I had it altered, but it still didn't fit properly.

 Munch did a great job sitting criss-cross-applesause through most of the ceremony.

Towards the end she got restless and started pulling at her scarf, so we ducked out for some time on the swings.

The five hour break between the post-ceremony lunch and reception was a much welcomed opportunity for a family nap. We crashed in the hotel room - LD for one hour, me for two, Munch for three. I woke feeling like a new human.

The reception started with an elaborate spread of food that I, being a novice on the Indian wedding scene, mistakenly thought was dinner. I filled my plate and my belly. LD, having been to a few Indian weddings, knew better and when dinner was actually served - after the cake was cut and dancing was underway - happily dished up what would be his fifth meal of the day. Munch and I nibbled on even more sweets while we waited for daddy to finish.

I felt the rough edge of a long week started to dull and fade. She was on the mend. There was cake. Both good reasons to celebrate.

Munch had developed low grade temps last Sunday night. On Monday crops of small red blisters appeared on her chin and her hands. It definitely looked viral, although not exactly like Coxsackie virus, which was circling her school. Whatever it was, we hunkered down for a week with her at home and devised strategies for keeping Munch and Wow separate.  Olivia DVDs and princess coloring books were in heavy rotation. The affectionate little fomite burst into tears when told to stop kissing her brother.

By Wednesday the rash spread to her elbows and feet and the blisters on her face were looking more bacterial than viral. We took her to the pediatrician who said it was difficult to say if the rash was just evolving or if she did indeed have a superimposed bacterial infection, but that it would be reasonable to try a course of antibiotics if I was worried.

I was worried.

We left with a prescription for Keflex. But it didn't get better. On Friday morning I told LD I thought she shouldn't go to the wedding, but, miraculously, when I got home Friday evening it was starting to clear. There was another cause for celebration on Friday, an event that I am sorry to say, definitely got short shrift in the course of the week's events.

Congrats Dr. B.

Happy birthday LD.

tia graduates

Wow, mom, and I arrived in Portland just before midnight on Friday.

A certain someone was surprisingly excited on Saturday morning to discover an even smaller and less continent member of the family.

We were in town for approximately forty hours, which was just long enough to see my sister graduate from law school and enjoy a few bottles of celebratory champagne with her friends.

When Ashley made her way across the stage, mom cupped her hands around her mouth, screamed "GO ASHLEY YEAH YEAH GO ASHLEY", and fluttered her hands in the air with all the excitement of having just watched her daughter score a tie-breaking soccer goal.

LD took Munch camping in south Lake Tahoe on Saturday. They spend the day hiking, playing by the water, and reviewing the role of a "bear box" as someone had become quiet upset when she thought her much-anticipated granola bars were being offered to the bears via said box.

They got home in the late afternoon in time to make a pin hole projector and watch the solar eclipse. We arrived home just a few hours later and started to prepare for the coming week.

Job well done, little sis. 

happy mother's day

I am behind on my blogging. Mother's day weekend started with a few cool quiet hours on Saturday morning, during which Wow and I gabbed like two old ladies playing bridge, and waited for the rest of the family to wake up.

LD, Munch, and my mom stumbled out of bed late, which meant the day was already warming up by the time I left for my morning run. I've been trying to get one long run in a week, on my day off as early as possible so as to avoid the ever climbing mid day heat.

Since LD's half marathon I've been thinking about running one myself. But I won't have time to put in much mileage until July, which can be an unbearably hot month around here. So I am still thinking about it. And in the meantime I am trying to do one longish run a week at a "tempo" pace. 

Please take notice that I have, after only six months of owning the darn thing, finally gotten around to syncing it with my computer.

Like a G6, Like a G6 Now now now now now I'm feeling fly like a G6.....

I was feeling pretty good for those first few miles, the common preface to any runner's account of what happens just before it all goes to H-E-double toothpicks. It didn't really, except that somewhere between miles four and five I stopped running and started racing. All out balls-to-the-wall (a phrase I recently learned does not mean what you think it does) racing - to just maintain my pace. This, I thought to myself as I limped home, was a really good way get injured, especially considering that these 8 miles brought the week's mileage to 12 total.

Munch and I spend the morning at the local library, a frequent haunt when it's too hot to be outside.

Children's Story Hour 

Munch got a haircut this week. She was, and remains, not too happy about it - a sentiment fully anticipated by my mother, who initially declined when I asked her if she would take Munch to get it cut. Truthfully, it isn't a very good cut - it's short and poofs out like a triangle just under her ears and we've started calling her "dandelion head" in reference to the frizzy tufts that stand on end just after she wakes up.  Don't worry, my Munch, I've had some bad cuts myself, it grows out.

That afternoon mom and I went for massages, a mother's day treat from LD. After an early evening dinner outside, I surprised my mom with her favorite dessert - chocolate mousse cake. I sliced myself an especially generous piece and gave thanks that I had been able to spend some QT time with each of my children, my own mom, and even got in a run myself.

Happy Mother's Day.

the socratic method

In a feeble attempt to reduce the frequency with which I hear the word "No", I've started replying to Munch's questions with my own questions. CAN I HAVE A POPSICLE FOR BREAKFAST? is followed by "Have you ever had a popsicle for breakfast?" CAN I BRING THE HOSE INSIDE? is followed by "Why would there be a hose inside?"

I convinced myself this inane banter was in keeping with the "Socratic method" and would foster critical thinking. The fact that the majority of my responses, intended to baffle and deflect, bear no resemblance to the philosopher's negative method of hypothesis elimination (a definition I got from Wikipedia, thank-you-very-much) bothers me not one bit.

NO. No. NO NO NO. No. No. No no no. NO NO NO no No No no.

We lob this word at each other with such regularity it has become the most common word of our communication. My reply to her putting stickers on the iPad, her reply to my recycling some of her "lesser" works of art.

Truthfully, we just aren't getting along that well. I try to see things from her perspective - after a long day of behaving herself at school, all she wants to do is pour a little milk onto the dinner plate and swirl it around. Or suck the butter out of the broccoli and place the wilted floret on my plate. In peace, without getting yelled at by a certain someone whose been sporting a short fuse. But I am tired too.

I have reason to think she will forgive me for this rough patch.  Last night I intended to shut my eyes for only a few minutes. I didn't realize I had been sleeping until I was aware of Munch standing nearby. She kissed my head, said GOOD NIGHT MAMA I LOVE YOU, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Ten minutes later she came back in, kissed me again, told me she loved me, and slammed the door a second time on her way out.

I love you too, my Munch.

BMT i'm out

It was a rough two weeks on the transplant service. This fact is not to reflect disparagingly on the patients - who were mostly kind, responsible, and you know, fighting for their lives - or the support staff, that, as I mentioned before, is wonderful.

But it's a fact, nonetheless, and likely brought about by a census that ran twice last year's average.

Still, this made me laugh.

And few days later it was followed by this.

Adios, BMT.