grrlTravels

snap!

Project Amy 2010 has begun with a bang. Friday was a spiffy endometrial biopsy (when the nurse says it's going to hurt so take something before you come she means it) and yesterday was a lovely jaunt to the derm. for a re-excision. With all 3 kids in tow. E. had a LOT of questions and got to see the numbing needle but was in the bathroom for the actual cutting, which is probably just as well.

Still on the docket: annual visit to the scary melanoma clinic (with more cutting I'm sure); second mammogram/ultrasound of the year (for kicks); removal of Big Ugly Cyst (elective, because I like novocaine and stitches); annual visit to breast specialist (let's hope she doesn't want the tiny, non-ugly cysts out because that hurt like heck the last time); and follow-up with GYN to see what to do about my oddly shaped uterus and the fibroid and cyst therein. And if I'm a good girl this will be the year that I will visit the genetic counselors. But I wouldn't hold my breath on that last one—this list doesn't include the regular doctor visits for 2010.

I don't really want to do any of these things. And I'm bemused by the fact that someone as seemingly healthy as I am can require so much care. I'm also thankful that I can see all of these people and get their professional opinions on little old me. And all of this nonsense gives me the opportunity to give you my annual pitch.

Go to the doctor. You know, the one you don't want to go to, the one you haven't seen in a lot of years.
Have the test you've been putting off.
Face whatever it is you don't want to face. Waiting is only going to make it all worse.
And if you're all caught up with all of your yucky stuff: YAY YOU! I'm stinkin' proud of you!

March 31 not only means that I am with stitches, but that another month is over. And no giveaway. Because I can't get my act together right now. But never fear! I went to Target yesterday to peruse the Liberty of London offerings and as I feared I liked just about everything and I probably bought more than I meant to. And one of the things I bought was a sweeeeeeeet tote bag which is either vinyl or oilcloth (but I'm betting vinyl). It is muy bonito. Actually I bought 3 tote bags (all they had left) and one of them is for one of you! So leave a comment and enter yourself for the Sweeeeeeet Liberty of London Target Collection Tote Bag Give Away in March. It needs to sound that official since I am, you know, way behind as usual. [February winner, your stuff is sitting here! I promise!] I always get around to my plans, but I am not speedy. If you need a Liberty of London tote bag from Target by the end of next week you'd better just go to Target yourself.

I'm off to see if my newly minted stitches can handle 3 miles. Hope they can or it promises to be a long spring.

(My comments are acting funky. I have comments on the last post which are not showing up online but did land in my in-box. I am having K. work on it. So if your comment does not show up right away, fear not, but perhaps you should come back a few days later to make sure it's landed.)

more birthday for me

Thank you for the birthday wishes. It was a lovely day, and much better than my birthdays tend to be. (Bad birthdays completely my fault. More on that later.) It was a fun day playing hooky with K. and the kids, great lunch, wonderful dinner, relaxing, peaceful... Sigh. I wish it was my birthday again today.

But it isn't. Back to real life. Back to housework, cooking, training, feeling guilty about how far behind I am in getting back to people that should be gotten back to, and the ever-lengthening todo list.

Here's a little something that K. put together for my birthday:
Watch Amy swim, bike, and then run, all on the same day
This is not the most flattering thing I've ever seen, but I'm sharing it with you anyway. Go ahead, watch it. And then come back.

Ok, the beginning biking part was right after I got the bike. I figured out quickly that riding on the trainer was not for me. That swimming bit in the beginning? I don't swim like that. I was heading for the dock after my swim. Oh and right after that E. jumped off the dock without his lifejacket on (which is ok because he can swim a bit, enough to save himself) but he scared himself and then we had to effect a rescue. Very dramatic. Of course I was right there in the water, so no worries. K. tells me this was the best swimming shot he had. K., you need to take more shots. Because I know you can do better than that. Actually all of the training stuff was early on. I don't know why I'm compelled to tell you this because you really don't care. I suppose I do, though.

The first triathlon was converted to a duathlon (run, bike, run) because of weather concerns and debris in the water. I was bummed! In the end it was probably better because my swim the next week was terrible, but at the time I was bummed. The farthest I had run before this race was 3 miles and on race day I ran 1.5 miles, biked 14-ish miles, and then ran 3 miles. Right after I finished it started raining REALLY hard, then thunder and lightning and they called the whole race off. I was so happy that I was able to finish. But it wasn't a triathlon.

A second triathlon the next weekend was more of the same. Steady, pouring rain. A quick, awful swim (must work on my swimming!), a slippery, wet bike ride, and a run where the water was frequently up to my ankles, and voila! I'm a triathlete. Oh, and the lake? Was filled with geese poop. Everyone was covered in a thin brown sheen of poop as they left the water. All part of the fun.

The video is all from last summer and it makes me want to get ready for this year. I wish I could just magically be a much better swimmer because it would make everything so much easier, but I'm going to have to work at it. And this summer there is a small brand new triathlon right across the street from my house! And K. is doing it with me, if his shoulder ever gets better! Yay!

Clearly I'm still on a birthday-induced high. That's a good thing. I'm much more chipper that way.

44.

It's my birthday. Today. Another one. Already. Huh.

Today I'm 44.
Today I desperately love K. And I'm grateful. Because I can still remember that flurry of wings at the bottom of my stomach when I first saw him, and I still know that we are good for each other.
Today I feel like a mother to my brood of 3. I struggle, worrying and slapping myself down and getting mired in details. I love them, though, and I'm grateful to know this love. It teaches me, all the time, and surprises me too.
Today I believe I am healthy and strong. Most of the time. I still have those tricky knees. And calves. My hips ache when I kick at karate. Some days my back is really funky. Some days I get that weird swollen finger thing and I can't really use my hand. But mostly healthy.
Today I struggle with my image of myself. I wish I didn't, and it seems like 44 years might be long enough to resolve such feelings. But I look in the mirror and I churn. Still.
Today I am happy. I feel the happiness looming, alien-like, and I throw myself in.
Today I acknowledge my loneliness. My abandonment issues threaten yet again, whilst I rally myself yet again to look at them, force myself to feel them and accept the solitude. Yet again.
Today I know I have friends, and I appreciate the heck out of them. There were too many years where my so-called friends hurt more than they helped, condemned more than they accepted, took more than they gave. I am thankful for the people who care about me, and who can tell me so.
Today I still don't know what I want exactly, don't know if I've found my place in this world, but I sense that things are getting better. Every day a little better. I feel overwhelmed and hopeful, lost and productive, tired and, well, tired. And grateful. I don't want to forget grateful.

It's a good day. Not free of pain, of conflict, of the contradictions that inform my days. But good. My day. A good day.

take care. really.

The girls in my therapy group love to tell me that I'm not taking good enough care of myself. It seems to come up regularly, this concept of "taking care of oneself" and my deficiencies therein. And because I have known some of of these women for years I try hard not to gnash my teeth at them when we talk about it. Occasionally I am successful.

Thing is, I really don't know what else to do. One of the group's major hangups is that K. and I never get a babysitter to go out alone together. It isn't like we never did. A while after E. came along we went away together for an entire week. (Telling you that I still feel guilty about that probably won't further my case any though.) Once Z. joined our family life changed, and the babysitters went away mostly. Then R. came. Then we didn't have babysitters any more at all, unless we had a hideous doctor appointment. Or a triathlon. But mostly no babysitters.

I see the babysitter issue as a symptom, not a cure. And symptoms, okay, well we've got them. Frustration. Ennui. Anger that all family members are not thanking me daily for a) washing the dishes; b) folding the laundry; and c) keeping them alive by feeding them 3 times a day. And the babysitter thing. A grocery list of symptoms. An issue that needs addressing. Caring for oneself. What that means.

I address this issue thusly: I exercise 30-90 minutes almost every day. I sew at least once every 3 weeks. I take a picture every day. I write blog entries. I go on Flickr.

Okay, even I can see that's a pathetic list. Better than some of you, perhaps, but lacking a certain je ne sais quoi. And some of your are laughing. Or pitying me. Thing is, I can't seem to find a way out of this. And honestly a lot of my inability to leave the children in order to "take care of myself" has to do with the fact that two of them are adopted, and they've already had one or two big abandonments in their short lives, and I just can't add on to that. I understand that my thinking is somewhat convoluted and obtuse and I'm not stating my case very well and most everyone in my life is pretty certain that I am Just. Plain. Wrong. about this. I understand that. And I accept it. I know that some of you are thinking OBJECT PERMANENCE! and I know I haven't even gotten to the whole leave-come back-leave-come back argument, although I do think about it quite a bit. Thing is, I've got some more work to do before I can act on any of it.

And the thing is, today there is no denouement. There is no plan. Today there is no end to this entry.

we aren't savants. ever.

Today Z. had her first ice skating lesson.

Today Z. had her first ice skating lesson because I am trying very hard not to be the kind of parent I am. That is to say, I am trying very hard not to be the overprotective freaky mother that I think I might already be. I really don't want to be the mom wrapping the bubble wrap around and around, packing tape at the ready, or cutting the steak of the 16-year-old with a butter knife, or telling my soon-to-be-30 child how to mow the lawn without inadvertently removing a toe or two. Or requiring a blood transfusion. Or losing an eye. I'm just saying.

So when K. said that maybe Z. could try along with the boys I swallowed the 28 reasons that rose immediately in my throat as to why it was a bad idea and said, "Ok." We drove to the rink, paid our money, got her some skates, and sent her on to the ice.

I was kind of secretly hoping that she would turn out to be an ice skating savant. You know, we'd put the ice skates on her and tie them up nice and tight and she would glide out on the ice and never look back. I've been waiting patiently for the savantness to show up in our family, for someone to be very, very, intensely good at something.

Z. and ice skating are not the answer to my savant dreams.

Does it matter that she was very wobbly, that her ankles went every which way, that she fell and cried, cried and fell, that in the end she turned into a huge blotchy teary messy mess? On the one hand it matters quite a lot, and then again it matters The Very Most It Could Matter. But she did it. And I did it.

Now I'm all conflicted about what to do at the next class and I feel rather more protective about Z. than I did 4 hours ago but I took the first step in letting her go and I'm going to remember what this feels like.

For the next time.