Focusing

They took him right away. Not for long, and not far, but I was stunned, shocked, alone. It happened so fast in the end, that shift of focus from here, at my center, at me- to over there.

Everyone had been so focused on me. Jon urging me to concentrate, counting down the seconds until the next wave of pain would sear through me. The nurses, how many were there? Everything was so foggy- and not just because of the pain, but because at some point I had started draping a wet washcloth over my face and my glasses were hopelessly smeared, sweaty, useless. There was no time to wipe them, nothing to wipe them on, and I kept putting that washcloth back over my face anyway- fading the world to black as the pain swept through.

Then a doctor swept in, someone I didn’t know, but she had gentle hands and a soothing voice and she kept me focused on the job at hand. This whole team kept touching me, consoling me, urging me forward. And then a push, a warm gushing flow, and everything moved away from me. Not right away- they put him warm and wet on my belly first. Jon ceremoniously cut the cord, and then, in a tightly choreographed move, all of the other players in the room, including the newest, moved to the left. And there I was, streaked glasses offering me a glimpse of a huddle of backs. I wanted to join in, but I was physically stuck, feet in the stirrups, and my eyes and their backs shut me out.

Of course I had him back in my arms within minutes, but that whisking movement, that flow away from me, is a what sticks with me when I think back to that birth. And now I realize that even though I was stuck in the bed, half blind and hurting, I did participate in that flowing away. It was really at that moment that my life quit being all about me. My focus also shifted in that moment. Of course it had been shifting for years, really. Naturally I had moved from focusing on my own physical needs, to nurturing my emotional needs, then to opening up to include Jon, my partner. And even over the past nine months, when I had been extra carefully monitoring ME, the focus had been becoming more and more narrow- fixated on the gigantic belly that housed our son.

And now, almost exactly eight years later, I find myself at a spot where I might be able to change my focus a bit once again. My second, and youngest, son has entered full day kindergarten. I have continued to work 3 days a week since my first son was born, but my two days home were not ‘off’ as my childless co-workers liked to assume. Those days were spent working the overtime shift on my second job- mothering. But now, every Tuesday and Thursday I walk my kids to school at 9 am and then… what? And there’s the hitch. It’s been so long since I had time of my own to fill, I’m not quite sure how to do it.

It’s not like I have been stagnant over the last eight years, spending every free moment parenting, or learning about parenting, or worrying about parenting. Beyond the 7895 fascinating things I have learned about raising my two boys, I have branched out. Sometime in the last eight years I took up triathlons. I’m not good at them, but I have learned to finish them with dignity. I think. My husband and I bought and fixed up a house. Heck, I even helped found (really, give birth to) a charter school. In that undertaking I learned things such as how to sell a product that doesn’t yet exist, how to work as part of a staff team that shares every aspect of leadership, how to convince a student that dropping out is not an option, and how to operate a freight elevator. I’m especially good at that last one. These are not minor undertakings. But they have all been things that I have fit in while someone else is taking care of my kids- and I have been fabulously aware of the time ticking until I have to get back to my first job.

That job still exists, of course. And it is as fascinating as ever. But now I have two full days where my children are engaged at school. Not being babysat by my mother, or brother, or neighbor- someone who undoubtedly has somewhere else to be, and soon. And here I am, ironically once again with foggy eyes due to recent Lasik surgery, not sure where I should go, or what I should do. I admit for the first few days, I just kind of sat here. Partly, that was dictated by the fact that I couldn’t really see while my eyes were healing, and I didn’t want to cause bodily harm to anyone by being out and about via car or bike. But I also wasn’t really sure what I wanted.

Now that my vision is coming back into focus, I can’t say that I’ve figured anything out. What am I going to do now that I have time to be me again? I don’t know, but as I sit and consider it, I remember a second feeling from that first birth, eight years ago- the sense of wonder, and excitement, for the journey ahead.

Outclassed by an 8 year old

Tonight as I was getting dinner ready I said to Eli, "It's your dad's birthday, why don't you set the table real nicely." Then I went back to cooking. Next time I looked Eli had put a tablecloth out, sprinkled the table with seashells, and had grabbed two candles off of the spiral wall hanging thing in the living room. He then proceeded to get out an assortment of bowls and plates, along with real fancy beer mugs. He asked Jon to make sure he put the food into nice serving dishes. A discerning reader will discover two things in the previous sentence: 1. Jon was helping prepare his own birthday dinner (oops) and 2. we don't usually use serving dishes but just plop the pan down on the table. I then came along and at the last minute set a plastic container of pita crisps out on the table. They were immediately returned to me with the request to put them on a serving tray. I complied. Then we ate a wonderful candlelight dinner. Partway through the meal I said, "Eli, you were right, the pitas definitely needed to be in a serving dish." He rolled his eyes and said, "Mom, anyone with ANY sense of romance would not serve something up in a plastic container!" Ok then oh mighty resource on romance.

Theo's First Day

Some things are so much easier if you are child number two. On Eli's first day of kindergarten we had to pretty much drag him out of the house. He is not given to tantrums (although there are a few epic ones in his past) - he's much more about passive resistance. On his first day at Expo he walked to the corner right across from the school. Then he sat down. Refused to budge. He didn't cry or scream- just did that jelly thing with his body so that it was impossible to pick him up. After a bit of reasoning we were able to persuade him to give it a try, and he ended up liking it ok.
Theo on the other hand. He has Eli's old teacher whom he has been in love with for 2 years. So on the first day of kindergarten Theo woke up at 7 am. He grabbed me and dragged me downstairs. He got out all the makings for his lunch and directed me through the process. Then I was rushed upstairs to help him get dressed. I am not exaggerating when I say that by 7:18 he was fed, packed, dressed, and at the front door with his backpack on. I had to break the bad news that Expo did not start for nearly two hours. His shoulders slooped a little bit, then he asked, "Are we talking about the long hours or the short hours here?" Definitely the long ones... But somehow we made it through them and off he went. He has not looked back.
(For the record- Eli only held his Gandhi-esque protest for kindergarten and first grade. This year he marched right in- but it is harder being the groundbreaker.)

My eyeballs

I've had to take a break from writing due to my recent Lasik surgery. I scratched up my glasses up at DuNord again. I thought I had learned my lesson, but I am just so anxious to see the stars from in the lake post-sauna. Of course my glasses are steamed up from putting them on while I am so darn hot, and I carefully try to wipe the lenses so I can see what the others are gasping about. It never works. And I end up needing a new lens every year after DuNord. This year, my brother Pete wondered why I didn't just get new lenses in my actual eyes through Lasik surgery. He is a believer. So are four of my other siblings and in-laws. So, before I could actually think it through, I signed up. Then this is how they get you- you can't wear contacts for the few weeks prior to the surgery. I was so dang sick of peering through my scratched up lenses that I was very determined to go through with it.
I found out that I had to get the more involved type that includes scraping off the cells from the front of your lens. OF your eyeballs. The trick to getting this surgery is Valium. They give it to you and THEN they tell you about the 'burning hair' smell you might notice. That's not hair. That's your eyeball. Even loaded up on valium I entertained thoughts of bolting when the smell hit my nostrils. But I was too jellified to act. Which was good, because there was a lazer actively engaged with the back of my eye. That smell was in my dreams for quite a while.
The 7-10 days until I could resume regular activities was misleading. I thought I'd resume with crystal clear vision, but that was not the case. I was very very foggy until today- day 21. I did resume lots of stuff, but at a risk to myself and others. Several times I drove to somewhere, only to realize that I should not drive home. Sometimes I drove anyway, other times I called for a lift. And the wind still does me in, so biking is still out. But I see it in my future.
Here are other things I long for: Cross-Country skiing without my glasses fogging up! Swimming without glasses, or without super dried up, crinkly contacts. Snuggling and reading books with my kids without my glasses poking someone. Running in the rain. And most of all, I can not wait to sauna at DuNord, then jump in the lake and see the stars. I hear that they are wonderful, but every single sauna lake jump thus far has been blind. I can't wait.
I still have some healing to do. Computer screens still do me in after just a few minutes, and I have not read a book for three weeks. That is torture for me! But I see it coming. I'm getting close.

Differences

Eli is 8 and has yet to ever care even in the least on how he physically presents himself to the world. He will wear anything I put in front of him- as long as it is comfortable. And we have yet to find a single pair of pants that will stay up on his 'hips' and not show 2 inches of his bum. But he does not care. I do- I just can not find a solution for senior no hips.
Theo- well I've always had this feeling that things would be different with him once he got tall enough to open his own drawers. Since we have placed his clothes in the top two drawers of the dresser, we are still in charge of his clothing options...but our days as Theo's style consultants are numbered. This is how I know:
Last night after the boys got out of the tub Eli decided to style Theo's hair. (Has Eli ever cared to 'style' his own hair? No.) He brushed it real nicely all kind of swept to the side- as much as Theo's short, thick hair can be swept. Then a little later the three of us piled into Theo's bed for books. After a page or two I noticed that Theo was kind of doing an extended tummy crunch and not putting his head on the pillow. I told him to relax and lay back. He protested and moved awkwardly onto one arm. Then he suddenly sat up, felt his hair, apparently decided that the whole effect had already been ruined, moaned "Darnit!" with more angst than 5 year olds should be able to muster, and then fell heavily onto his pillow.

Eli's Sardonic Worldview

The other night I was reading to the two boys before bed. It was one of the early cool and rainy nights in August after intense heat and I was cherishing actually snuggling with the boys- rather than trying to preserve my cool and my personal space like I had been doing through that heat wave. Anyway, we had a lovely read, then we were just chatting. I mentioned that the weather reminded me of October, which reminded Eli of Halloween, which got him started on talking about all of the candy that piles up over Halloween, Christmas, Valentine's day, and Easter. His actually piles up because his sweet tooth is severaly UNDERdeveloped. I never had this piling issue as a kid.
As we were all three snuggled in Theo's bed I started making up this song about candy and me and how I planned to hog it all...it went something like this (Please, no attempts to pirate this song- I am working on copywriting as we speak) "I'm going to take the candy and put it in my pocket, put it in my pocket, and NEVER share it with anyone!" Eli was silent for a second or two, then said, "Geez Mom, I think you might have just written the theme song for America."

Tick Poop Revisited

Earlier this week Theo was really suffering from growing pains. After a few days of watching him limp around, I mentioned to Jon: "Do you think it's possible that he has Lyme's Disease?" And immediately Theo piped up from the other room: "But Mom, I never saw any tick hairs or tick poops!!" For an explanation- see 'Tick Poop' below.