A Message for You

Popping in to the blog because this message has been on my heart to share, and it's one that I know many of us are seeking to hear and know right now. So here it is...

This world is full of kind people. Period. No qualifiers. No situational variance. Just kind people.

I could end this post right there of course, but the good writer (and human!) in me knows that evidence is necessary. My life - more exactly my family's life - has been full of such evidence lately, and I've been compelled to give you a glimpse because my heart is full, and I want yours to be too. What follow are experiences that have been less than awesome. I'm not sharing these because I want sympathy, or pity, or really anything. Part of being alive is that sometimes we have a shit time. The thing is....all this kindness I'm about to share has lifted us up and carried us through.

At the beginning of January, I made up my mind that I was going to 100% do right by my body. I started exercising, with a friend, 2-3 times EVERY week. Exercise led to better mood, better food choices, confidence, and my friend and I bonded just a little bit more as we suffered, and then overcame, the challenges and sweat of making your not-as-young bodies do something difficult. At the end of January, my body decided it was going to misbehave anyway. After a weekend of an incurable headache in and around my right eye, I visited my eye doctor. Diagnosis? Uveitis. It's really a black hole of a disorder. It can pop up once and go away with treatment. It can be tough to get rid of in other cases. It can be chronic. It can be indicative of an underlying auto-immune disorder, most of them pretty scary. It can be a sign of things to come. Or...... not.

Skipping the knitty-gritty details, I'll fast forward to the present time, and let you know that for me, the condition proved difficult to cure. I've had countless labs run, and put more steroids into my eyes than is good for them. I even experienced an entire week of completely blurred vision, thanks to dilated eyes. The good? I don't seem to have any underlying issue as of today. The not as good? The word "chronic" is being batted around. It'll be awhile until I accept that, for what it's worth. My vision has also deteriorated due to all of the steroids, so I will be super grateful to have new lenses for my glasses next week. The words on this page are both blurry and wavy right now. It's cool for a moment.

Through it all, people have been amazingly kind - remarkably so - every single day. My eye doctor, who I've gotten to know pretty well through our frequent appointments, has never tried to sugar coat anything, but he has told me the truth and discussed sometimes very undesirable options with great empathy to how it would impact my life as a young adult. When he decided to use extreme measures to try to halt the condition via eye dilation and extra steroids, he gave me his phone number. I have used it a handful of times, and he has always responded soon, and always made time in his schedule for me. When he sent me to see a specialist, he called me before the appointment to talk me through what it would be like. That conversation in particular was so helpful, as I was truly frightened about what might be done to diagnose and investigate my issues (think needles + eyes). The afternoon after my specialist appointment, he called me again to check in. We both took joy in the discovery that my eyes were clear of inflammation that day. They remain clear to this day, and my steroid intake has greatly decreased. I do, however, need a new glasses prescription. Knowing that I've already spent a lot of money on healthcare this year, and knowing that my prescription will likely change again soon, the doctor told his techs to "order the best materials and give her a 50% discount." Even as I write this, my throat has a lump in it. He didn't have to do any of these things. All he had to do was look at my eyes to see whether they were getting better. Though my doctor sticks out as one of the greatest examples of kindness, I also need to tell you about many others:

• B, who has *made* me take breaks, even when he would like one himself. One recent Saturday in particular, he issued these orders: "Go upstairs, take a bath, then lie down. I don't want to see you again for 2 hours." He also cooks every single meal in our home, and is incorporating the dietary changes I'm making to try to head off inflammation in the future. 
• My exercise friend who has kept me going to classes, and been a loving ear.
• Mister learned that almonds are good for your eyes (inflammation really), so he gives me a snack bowl of almonds at every chance he gets. One day I was searching for something to eat in our pantry. "How about some almonds, Mom?" he suggested. I really wanted the fritos, but for him, I had almonds.
• Bean, who is wise and kind beyond her years, takes note of how many discarded tissues are on my bedside table in the mornings. When there are a lot, she asks if I am OK because she knows I use them to wipe my eyes after using drops. She has also completely taken ownership of bedtime stories since it's hard for me to see.
• My coworkers have made it easy to be away from work as much as I've needed to be. Through all of this, I've learned what is important and what isn't in so many ways, and thanks to my wonderful colleagues nothing important has fallen through the cracks. 
• My knitting friends check in on me regularly. I've had many more conversations by phone than I can remember in recent past. 
• Yesterday, the tech who ordered my lenses put a rush on the order, so that I could have relief from my blurry headaches as soon as possible. She didn't have to do that. I hadn't asked her to.

The early part of this year was also trying for our furry ones. One pup was seen by the vet 5 times in 2 months. She is OK now, but it was a challenging go for awhile. Knowing the stress of the situation, and financial burden, our vet combined services as often as possible and gave us "in case" medicine supplies, so that we could avoid more appointments in coming days. 

Mister had tubes placed in his ears in March, the same day I had to see a rheumatologist to check for underlying conditions. My mom stepped right in and took care of him for the afternoon after his surgery. She really is the best mom. 

Perhaps the most difficult moment of all this Spring was the moment that took B's brother from this earth, long before his time. It was premature, and sudden, and will take a long time to process. BUT. Through all of the darkness and sadness of the grief, I have seen so much light and kindness. Neighbors immediately surrounded the family with support and cooked for us in the week following his death. They continue to check in on B's parents, and help them through the unthinkable and difficult task of wrapping up affairs for their son. The funeral director knew we were all in shock, and patiently worked with us for almost 3 hours as we plodded our way through deciding how best to memorialize one of our own. My mother took custody and care of Mister and Bean for as long as was necessary. It ended up being a week. The kids didn't miss any school or appointments, or practices. And they had Grammy love and hugs to uphold them. I truly believe that God sent me my dear childhood friend's name to serve as the minister for the services. I have never experienced a more fitting and beautiful and meaningful funeral service. And my dear knitting friends, whose retreat I had to miss. I understand they thought of and talked about me all weekend. My name was in their stitches. I was uplifted by them and their subsequent phone calls and messages. Bean's school teacher has been a boon for her. She messaged me just this morning, in fact, to let me know Bean was sad but that she had suggested drawing a picture to help her feel better. She messaged me again later to let me know Bean had recovered. 

I know that B has been lifted up by his coworkers and friends too. His boss drove the 2 hours to attend the funeral. So did friends and parents of friends from our childhood. 

In the coming weeks, we will plant a tree that was so kindly sent to us by one of my family members, to stand as a living memorial. 

So, as we head into the Summer season, and hopefully have a bit more breathing room, know that there is so much kindness in this world. Know also that if you do something kind for someone, it can truly make that person's load immeasurably lighter. I am sincerely grateful to all of you mentioned an unmentioned who have been kind, whether you knew it or not. 

A New Place, a New Garden, a Hungry Caterpillar

This year, the Beez are living in a new home. Blessed with more space, a flat yard, a cul-de-sac, we bid farewell to our first home as a married couple, and moved into our life house, the one where we see ourselves raising our family and hosting friends, movies in the basement and splashing in the backyard.

With our new home has come an adjustment year for gardening. Rather than dive right in, we've got a lovely container setup this year. I'm not absolutely in love with it, but it's given us time to get to know our yard and scale back our production a little as we settle in here.

Cute, right? I do love this vertical planter, and the rabbits cannot get to it! 

This week, our little garden received a "special" visitor. Meet the Hungry Caterpillar.

More specifically, this is a Tomato Hornworm, and the little jerkwad eats - you guessed it - tomato plants. At first, I was just in awe of this little critter. I mean, he's SO large, SO fat, SO HUNGRY.

So, night #1, we marveled at him, and let him be. Ooops!

"What's that?" you ask, Well, that would be caterpillar poop. Poop that resulted from the jerkwad nibbling on not 1, but 4 tomato plants in just one night. 

See these bite marks? I've seen this type of damage before and blamed groundhogs due to the size of the bites. 

Obviously, all of this damage called for action. The next morning, a caterpillar flinging expedition was organized. 

B bravely plucked Jackwad from the plant.

And flung it into the woods. 

So long Hungry Caterpillar!! Please don't come back!



Addendum: The very next morning the caterpillar was back. So Bean and I went to greater lengths and threw it in a storm drain across the street....wouldn't you know as I was driving away to work, I saw a bright green blob climbing out of the drain. We haven't seen one in our yard again though! Fingers crossed!

Two

"Oh, he's TWO? YOU must be busy!"

"Wow, you don't get any sleep, do you?"

"I'm sure you're having a terrible time." (wink, wink)

I hear these and similar statements at least daily, as we're currently in the thick of parenting (taming?) a two-and-a-half-year-old human. Add in that said tiny human is a male, and the clucking tongues of others really get going.

And what do I do? Well, I do what many moms do while they're wrestling their sweet beloved boys (or girls) off the top of the clothing display, or out of the trash can, or away from the unattended highly reachable candy bowl for the 50 billionth time, and someone whose hands are empty makes what is typically a well-meaning comment. As I hoist up my forty-pound son and his belongings, and drag him toward the car/door/corner-for-a-talking-to, I do my best to glance in that person's direction and give some sort of awkward eyeball acknowledgement of the comment, perhaps accompanied by an "mm-hmmm." But the truth is, in that moment, I have no TIME to stop and express the TRUTH, which is that two is not terrible.

Two is challenging, and it is tiring, and it is, in my opinion, one of the moments in life that helps solidify whatever your relationship is going to be like with your child (no pressure!). Two is full of battles of will, testing of lines, and screaming (hopefully more so from the kid than from the parents).

Two is also full of something else, that in all of our "busy-ness" with parenting little people, we might fail to recognize because we don't have the time to. However, now that I'm experiencing two for the second time, I have come to believe that this age is the height of unfettered creativity and inquisitiveness for a human being.

I mean, think about it. We're born into the world without boundaries. We're just hungry. Then someone starts to feed us, and schedules start, and we begin to take in the rules that make humans function as grown-ups. And we start to emulate them a bit. And our parents let us, because we're exploring and that is good.

And then comes mobility, and the watchfulness of parents grows because it has to - we want our little humans to stay alive so we do things like pull them off stairs and away from stoves and trashcans. It's the good thing to do. And then comes TWO. And little humans' brains kick in and say, "Hey! How do these things work? I want to make stuff happen! And I don't CARE about the boundaries!" Because really, their brains aren't quite set up for that yet, which can be SO FRUSTRATING as you clean vaseline off your child's whole body and pull toy cars out of the heating vents.

But when  you strip all of the behavior challenges away, what lies beneath is a wellspring of creativity that is dying to express itself, make statements, solve problems, and test boundaries. (Hey, isn't that the definition of art?)

 Mister and I spent the entire (challenging) day together yesterday, just the two of us. Let's just say that he was at the height of invention and creativity. In the span of 10 hours, Mister locked me out of whatever room he was in at least 5 times (within 5 minutes). "I'm just pwaying in here Mommy!" or "I'm being safe!" He rearranged his sister's bed to "make a nest" multiple times. Had his sister been home, there most certainly would have been several tantrums about this.

In a moment of helpfulness, he switched from mopping floors to mopping the walls. In a grand display of artistry, the poor boy who was so very exhausted at nap time, kept himself awake for two hours by doing things like climbing on his laundry basket (and then falling off of it) because "I'm too short!" He played with his babies, yelling for me when they needed something. And ultimately, he fell asleep naked, a fact that I only discovered upon getting him up in time for dinner, which he scarfed down because he'd worked up such a hunger during the afternoon. And then bedtime featured water splashed all over the bathroom because he was swimming, another nakedness incident (we're pretty sure he's trying to solve his own problems by removing wet diapers), and the need to sufficiently tuck in his dollies several times.

You might be thinking I was exhausted by the end of this day, and you'd be correct. But I'm also in awe. I'm in awe of Mister's persistence and creative problem-solving, and his implementation of ideas. No doubt during the coming 6 months, our parenting messages of being careful and safe and clean will begin to sink in - because his brain will allow them to - but I want to take care not to squelch this spirit of creativity that exists during the crazy exhausting beautiful age that is TWO.

Despite all of his shenanigans, sometimes Mister just knows when he's hit the limit. 
Here he is, putting himself in time out.