Emotional Week

The last week or so has been difficult. Every day I wake up so tired. One of the things I miss most about my pre-kid life was that feeling that once you swept away all your obligations -- the 20-page paper you have to write, the work project you have to finish, paying the bills that are due -- you could climb into bed, read as long as you'd like, and then sleep until you were ready to get up. Now the time of getting up is never of my choosing. The boys are my alarm clock, each and every day. Every now and then, they sleep unexpectedly late -- 8:30 AM, or maybe even 9:30 AM, very rarely. But the waking moment is always chosen by them, never by me, and I miss the feeling of relaxation and indulgence that flows from a self-determined schedule. I do remind myself, though, that someday I will be able to sleep as late as I'd like again, and then I am sure I will deeply miss having my tiny, sleepy pajama-clad boys padding into my bedroom in the early morning hours.

That it has been an emotionally exhausting week or so hasn't helped, either. Last Tuesday, my colleague at work had a stroke. She is not even 40. She was late to work (which never happens) and then complained that she'd had a headache and neck pain since the night before, and that she was feeling nauseated. I told her to go home, but she was going to stick it out. And then at 11 AM, while we were talking, she got stuck on a word: "all right," she kept saying. At first it made sense. Then it no longer did, and when she turned to look at me her face was contorted; I thought she was going to vomit. And then, in one of those horrible moments where your skin prickles and your hair stands on end, I knew -- she was having a stroke. I called 911, paramedics came, and she has been hospitalized. The part of her brain involved in expressive language has been damaged. I've ben reading updates on the web site her family set up, and I am hopeful that she will make a full recovery, but also very discouraged. I just can't believe her life has been derailed in this way, and having been there at the very moment it happened, having witnessed it, was deeply disturbing to me. I don't think anything less than a full recovery would allow her to come back to work because of the nature of what we do, and I don't know how likely a full recovery really is. I miss her as a colleague but have been surprised by how much I miss her as a friend. Her office is right next to mine, and because we are the same age, we talk all the time. We are very different, but get along very well. I suppose it is lucky that it happened at work; she lives alone and could have gone several hours without help if it had happened there. But that is a small comfort.

Anyway, her situation has been very difficult for me emotionally. I just feel so sad for her and her family. But it is nice to read about her progress, and I am trying to remain optimistic; what else is there?

In more ordinary happenings, the squeaker has a mild case of swimmer's ear, so we visited the doctor last night. We still visit the pediatrician in our old neighborhood, which is an hour from our house. I'm always thinking that we should find a new one closer to home, and then we go and I am reminded of why we drive so far. He is just an excellent person and is exactly what I want in a doctor. He listens and never, ever preaches or tells a parent how to do things. I think that bugs some of his patients' parents -- some parents really want a clear recommendation from their pediatrician, but ours is likely to outline the pros and cons. If you push him, he will give his opinion on some issues (vaccines), but his approach just doesn't include thinking of most parenting dilemmas as a big deal. You get the feeling that he thinks the kids will be alright, and that you can't really screw them up too much even if you nurse forever or not at all, co-sleep or cry-it-out, follow the vaccine schedule or tweak it. I like that he isn't preachy or authoritative about these things, and I also like knowing that the choices he made for his own kids were very much like the choices we have made (he had long-nursing co-sleepers, too).

But we did get home late, and the boys were very tired at bedtime. But at 4 AM, I heard little footsteps in our bedroom, and then the squeaker whispered miserably, "My dream ended! It's over!" He sounded so sad.

"Well, go back to bed and have another one!" I said. So he did. Hope it involved lots of dragons.

The pipsqueak had a birthday party this past weekend. Can't believe he is three!! It seems like just yesterday that I was holding him in the delivery room, chiding him for making me wait so long to snuggle with him! I miss his lovely baby-ness, but he is such an engaging, quirky toddler that I wouldn't roll back the clock even if I could. He makes me laugh every day. And he has this wonderful, contagious laugh that we all love. On the long car ride yesterday, his big brother was acting silly to make him laugh, and the pipsqueak just could not stop. When he finally did, he gasped, "Oh, it's so funny!!" and that made all of us chuckle.

We found little truck and loader candles for his birthday cake, and he really liked that. My sisters have teased that my boys are such boys, probably because they like weapons and monsters and, in the pipsqueak's case, trucks and cars (which the squeaker regards with disdain). I don't think of my boys as so gendered (probably because they have no interest in sports) but it's true that they aren't generally gentle and nurturing (though both have great empathy). I do think it would be nice to get them a pet so that they learn to care for a little living thing, but after the failed goat episode, I don't see many good choices. Wish a dog was an option, but I don't think the squeaker would be able to breathe.

Oh well. Enough rambling for today.