Grr...attitude

Generally, I think I'm sort-of half-and-half on the half-full/half-empty thing. Like half "things are so great", and half "but why did THIS PART go wrong??" I feel lucky and grateful a lot, which I think I express. Sincerely. But when facing mixed blessings, maybe I've been a bit...cranky and cynical. Not my most endearing qualities. For example, when someone offered to give up their own time and personal life to help me cope with what is most likely going to be a pretty rough week, and did so in the most AMAZINGLY KIND WAY...I'm afraid I wasted a little time thinking it might be motivated solely by the proselytizing opportunities. Possibly that is because the BIG thing to worry about, like WHY ANYONE NEEDS TO MAKE THAT OFFER AT ALL, is so monumental that being cynical was easier. Time to say, "Duh, self! Get over your, er, self." So, in the spirit of opening myself up to the kindness that has been thrown so ENORMOUSLY in front of us all, I want to open my arms wide and say THANK YOU: To my Internet friends: Thanks. Even though we've never met, your supportive words provide a touching little bubble of good feeling that buoys me up daily. Thank you to my family, who has been IMMENSELY supportive to Jamie, even though they don't know him very well. The phone calls, advice, offers of help and yes, the prayers, are tremendously important to us. Thank you to Jamie's family, who have been very kind to me, and, some of them, SO VERY STUPENDOUSLY nice to Jamie since his diagnosis. Jamie doesn't see or speak to most of his family all that much. There's a lot of complicated history there. But they mean so much to him, and when his family does something nice like come visit and make a fuss over him, it is a HUGE, MOVING, VERY BIG DEAL. (You know who you are!) Thank you to my group of amazing friends. So many of you have made some great offers and just been generally supportive and kind and solicitous. And a few of you have listened to me go berserk over this latest development. Which I wish were anomalous to this one thing, but you know me well enough to know that my head spins around and I yak endlessly over trivialities too. Ahem. I hope to never need to repay in kind some day - but if the need arises, I'm 1000% there. Because I owe you all. A lot.

Wizards vs. Lovers

I had a good conversation last night with another mom at Milo's preschool. I regurgitated to her my fears that when my sister (not the one with cancer - the other one) comes to visit, she'll use her time alone with my kids to talk about God, golden plates, and "sister wives". (This isn't particularly paranoid of me - she ALWAYS finds time to corner me when I see her and ask about my current stance on religion. I have filed away an unsealed letter from her labeled "Open me when you are ready to talk to God". PLUS...Mormons=proselytizers. Those boys on bicycles aren't anomalies, you know, they're part of the general Mormon worldview on "getting the Jesus word out". Except they call it missionary work.) Anyway. Like me, this other mom is not very religious. She said when they talk about the word "God" to their kids, they tell them that it's how some people refer to "Love". Which made my cynical little heart feel kind-of small. Because "a wizard" isn't a very loving or respectful picture to have given Milo of religious beliefs. Cough. So...we're ramping up toward April. I'm anxious that the surgery be over. I'm thrilled that my sister can come help us. And this is as good a place as any to say that my sister is, by the way, totally dropping a crazy-busy life, including teaching elementary school, full-time parenting 4 of her 7 kids and foster-child, and a time-intensive church job. My gratitude is immense, which makes my fears feel even more petty. Which, really, I guess they are. I doubt Milo or Zel are suddenly going to start singing "I'm a Mormon, Yes I am!" (Real song. Seriously.) after a week with my sister. And...we're reminding the kids who my sister is, since we only see her 1-2/year, so that her transition into our lives is smooth. Annnd...we're helping Milo prepare for potential Wizard talk. Respectfully. Maybe not changing the terminology, but at least injecting the conversation with some politeness. We hope.

Spin Cycle: Loose change

This week's Spin is about CHANGE. And since I think of myself as having had multiple incarnations, I decided to just pick one changed thing I miss.

This is Liz.

She's my BFF. From forever ago. We worked in the Lipstick Trenches together putting ourselves through college. Liz lives in Denver being a psych nurse at an outpatient mental health facility. Often she is the emergency-omg-I-forgot-to-take-my-meds-there-are-snakes-on-me nurse. Sitting here in my cozy faux-asian office with mood lighting and rice-paper/bamboo walls at The Swoosh, I think Liz's career=DIFFICULT. Now that I have kids, I don't see Lizzie very much. Only once in the past 3 years. Last night we had our annual 3+ hour phone marathon critiquing the Oscars. Our take: Perhaps Sophia Loren had the WORST Oscar Dress of 2009, but her body is amazing. And, to be perverse in our logic, botox needs to go, because all those immobile 20-year-old faces were creepy (cough cough...Alicia Keys). But the CHANGE that I'm writing about is that, before kids, before Jamie, the way I got to see Lizzie was ROAD TRIP!

Me alone in my car for a day each way, unless I took detours. I once stood on the Wyoming highway replacing all the belts in my 20-year-old Subaru because one broke and took all the others out with it. I had 50 cassettes (see 20-year-old-Subaru) I'd compiled of Road Trip Music.

Since Jamie/kids/etc. the number of times I've driven anywhere far alone=zero. I miss it. And my favorite bobo.

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¡op uɐɔ ı ʇɐɥʍ ʞool

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Because? My boyfriend Davey in his saxiest incarnation (sez me).