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Pdad stayed home from Church today with a pathetically sick Kate. When I returned home with the other kids, I saw this:
Table set, Dinner ready
The house smelled wonderful. I love being married to a man who can cook.
I also saw this:
Homemade bread, pesto spread, and charming note!
Pfamily January 2010
I will miss you.
Just in time for the waning days of summer, Duncan’s molluscum contagiosum has finally completely healed. I am so thankful. It has been an ordeal. He now has the all clear from Mom to wear shorts.
*Things to be thankful for:
1. While getting molluscum isn’t that great, it isn’t small pox.
2. After 4 months, the molluscum is finally gone.
3. Molluscum leaves no scars.
4. A healthy little body, and beautiful healthy skin.
5. Shorts for Duncan!
6. Dresses for Kate!
7. Kate can occasionally run clothing free (as 2 year olds are wont to do) without worrying Mom so much.
8. No more worry about accidentally infecting someone.
9. No more bandaids.
10. No need for Duncan to wear a swim shirt to the indoor pool.
11. No more wondering what treatments we should have tried.
12. No more excessive laundry. No more fresh pajamas every day of the week.
*I wouldn’t be Pmom if I didn’t feel compelled to reassure those of you who live nearby that we tried to act responsibly with Duncan during this ordeal. According to the CDC , there is no reason to isolate children with Molluscum from others at school or in the swimming pool. In fact, it is estimated that up to 10% of children will have Molluscum–but most, I trust, do not have it to the degree Duncan did.
P.S. If you are a hapless internet searcher looking for advice because this plague has struck your household, my advice is the following [the rest of you need to avert your eyes]:
Solomon wrote, “Who can find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above rubies” (Proverbs 31:10). Tonight I went to Amelia’s Back to School Night. I would like to modify Solomon’s statement a little for my own purposes: “Who can find a good teacher, for she is worthy of far better than rubies!” [tangent: Why don't we pay these people?]
Amelia is blessed to have a wonderful teacher this year. It was hard for me to sit still in my seat during the teacher’s presentation, because I wanted to get up and do a happy dance. Had the presentation been someone’s Facebook update, I would have sat there and clicked “Like” over and over again. I wanted to hug her. [Yes, I do tend to be over the top effusive when I like something, but what if I were only over the top down about things? Wouldn't that be worse?]
Anyway, basking in the moment of happiness that is realizing you probably got your child’s classroom placement right, that your interference and energy were not for nought, nor were to the negative either, I stopped to think on the excellent teachers who have blessed my life.
I have had a lot of teachers. Several of them were life-changing. Mrs. Long helped me to discover a life-long love of reading and an appreciation for science. Mr. Anderson brought history to life and taught us to recite “The Charge of the Light Brigade” and “The Jabberwock.” Mr. Klag helped me to realize that I had talents. He was interested in who I was and what I thought about.
There was a teacher, whose name I have forgotten, who taught my 7th grade history class. He taught us how to soak paper in milk and a little lemon juice and then bake it in the oven to make it look ancient. He also assigned us to do oral history interviews with our neighbors. Mr. Larson taught us science, and you couldn’t doubt that he was excited about it. He also taught us French and humility simultaneously. He helped me to understand the difference between looking for checkmarks and looking to learn.
Mr. Johnson loved me, even though I didn’t love him back. Somehow, he tricked me into absorbing a lot of geography despite my pride. Mr. Jeppesen taught me the desire to aspire. Disappointing him was deeply disappointing to me. Mr. Hall was kind and tolerant. Mrs. Roylance taught us to work.
And that is just through high school. If it weren’t past midnight as I write this, I would have to continue–sundry Sunday School teachers and college professors easily deserve mention–and I know that there are others as well. All of these people were passionate about what they taught. All of these people were genuinely interested in their students. All of these people changed a life. Mine. I have found a lot of good teachers. Thanks to all of them.
My mom visited all last week and it was great. I enjoyed talking with her and I felt like it was a wonderful opportunity for my children to get to know her better. Duncan, particularly, was like a purring kitten after a little extra grandma attention time.
The only problem with having my mom visit is that it reminds me of what a poor housekeeper I am (Despite some at times half-hearted, at times a lot more than half-hearted, efforts to be otherwise!). Somehow the neat and tidy gene that both my parents seem to have has skipped me. I inherited their desire for neat and tidy but not the make-it-happen part.
Anyway, one of the truly helpful things she did while she was here was to organize our games closet which had fallen into a state of entropy so complete that some of us doubted it could ever be restored. Et voila!
The Pfamily Game Closet: What a difference a grandma makes!
I was so inspired by the transformation that on Monday I tackled my own clothing closet and completely cleaned it out. Take that, entropy!
***
This post is about entropy and grandma appreciation. Come back tomorrow for a discussion of which games are good/fun and why. I’d love to hear what’s in your games closet!
The weather, a few hours after our unsuccessful campground hunting odyssey
I had a nice day today. It was a surprise.
At the beginning of the summer, I’d planned to be on vacation this week. But at the last minute, Pdad’s week of vacation time became a day of vacation time (!) (I shouldn’t complain—his company has always been generous with vacation time. But if I never complained when I shouldn’t, I would be a better person than I am so far.)
Although I hadn’t done the advance planning that I like to do, I was hoping to salvage our plans with a last minute weekend camping trip. Yes, a lot of the sites were reserved, but there are also the first come, first serve sites, right? Um, not really. Although I hurried and drove up there on the ranger’s explanation that the campgrounds would probably fill up about late afternoon on Thursday, I was sorry to discover that in fact they were full already. Apparently, communication between the campgrounds and the rangers is poor. To learn which campgrounds have tent sites available, you must drive to each campground and locate the camp host. So my thought of hurrying up there to nab a spot? Well, it turned into a three hour round trip as we made our way to each campground in succession, finding no luck in the end.
However, it was a very nice ride. I was pleased with myself for having done it as I am such a timid driver. It was an accomplishment. The scenery was gorgeous. I surprised myself by being able to enjoy it even though I was busy trying not to fall off the mountain and not hit other cars, and even though I was having no luck getting a camping spot. Duncan and Kate were wonderfully well-dispositioned and surprisingly cheerful captive passengers and conversationalists (well, Duncan–kudos to Kate for sleeping). Best of all, next time, when I plan ahead, and make reservations well in advance, I know just which campground I will pick. Granite Flat sits just above a pretty turquoise reservoir, and I am already enjoying next summer’s trip in my mind.
Meanwhile, I arrived home just a couple of hours before the the thunder, the lightning, and the rain. I hadn’t checked the forecast when I hatched the last minute camping plan. I am not a fan of rain while camping! No worries though, because I am sleeping in my marvelously soft bed tonight. Yes, it has been a pleasant day.
An older woman I didn’t recognize rang my doorbell today. She asked me to tell her the name of the tall purple flowers in my stop sign bed (answer: “May Night” Salvia). I’ve had a few polite friends express interest before, but never a stranger. How exciting! She made my day. Perhaps I should pay this one forward. I’ve noticed yards of strangers with beautiful plants and wanted so badly to know what the plants were. Why not stop and ask?
Background
When we moved to this house, our yard was such a mess that we had to start over. With the exception of several rose bushes, a snowball bush, the arborvitae, and an apricot tree, it’s all new.
How things looked when we moved in
Pdad and I were both completely ignorant about landscaping and plant selection. The only thing we knew for sure was that we needed expert help. We hired a consultant to come talk to us. That experience underlined the fact that we didn’t even know what we didn’t know. Well, several classes, and three additional consultations with different horticulturalist and landscape design experts later, we knew a lot more. We had some expert suggestions and sketches of what we should do.
However, I had meanwhile become obsessed with plant selection. In informing myself of what I didn’t know, I had fortunately and unfortunately developed strong preferences. Although definitely still a novice, I couldn’t but help but question every suggestion we were given. Ultimately I realized that what I really wanted was to plan which plants we would get and where we would put them myself. I didn’t want to follow someone else’s plan regardless of whether it was well or carefully done.
So here’s why Pdad is so great:
When I ultimately decided to set the experts’ counsel aside in favor of carrying out my own plans for our yard, Pdad gave me his blessing. a) This was brave. He knew what a novice I was. b) This was brave. We’d paid good money for valuable opinions and were tossing them aside. c) This was brave. He knew I was planning a design burdened under constraints he didn’t understand and/or agree with. For example, none of the local professionals we spoke with was particulary knowledgeable about or interested in waterwise gardening. By contrast, I insisted that all of our landscape plants be waterwise. This was not important to Pdad, and it was a constraint that made things a lot harder (waterwise irrigation anyone?). But he allowed me to carry out my vision. Another example of this was when I decreed that we would have no yellow flowers of any kind. Pdad saw no reason to ban yellow flowers from our premises (”Why is it we’re not doing yellow, again?). I attempted to explain how it was like poetry: by operating under artificial constraints (such as using a limited number of syllables or only certain colors in the palette) we would birth beauty through discipline. Pdad rolled his eyes at me. (I deserved it!) But then he cheerfully worked with me to accomplish my vision of a purple, and pink, and red, and blue, but never yellow, yard.
Outcome
This Spring I have felt smitten by our plants every time I walk outside. I feel stunned every time I walk out the door that the Nepeta (Catmint) can look that beautiful, that the May Night Salvia pairs with it so perfectly, or that the crimson creeping thyme has become so vigorous and spread so far. Please don’t misinterpret–I don’t make this observation so that you will know what a showpiece our yard is. In retrospect, I can see that I have made some significant mistakes. I was a novice after all. So, even though the Nepeta is ravishly beautiful, I look at the garage window next to it, and realize that the spot called for something much taller –probably a bush or small tree. Eventually, I think we will be digging that gorgeous Nepeta up and planting something else–probably a purple leaf sandcherry like the experts recommended! Also, I marvel at our Red Valerian (Jupiter’s Beard), but then notice that the Rose Glow Barberry behind it is the wrong backdrop for it. The valerian’s blossoms disappear against the barberry’s red foliage. And what of the Compact Pineleaf Penstemon, the Zauschneria Arizonica, and the blanketflowers? All big failures in our yard. But Pdad seldom talks about the failures (until I bring them up). Mostly, he notices the things that look nice.
So, because Pdad helped me carry out my vision, we have wasted a lot of money and will have many additional hours of work ahead of us. But I love our yard despite all the mistakes. And I so appreciate Pdad for allowing me to play artist on such a large scale. The canvas has been expensive and the mistakes are obvious, but I don’t regret doing it myself.* This yard is mine. And I am surprised to learn that if our yard is an unfinished novel, I am eager to continue to revise and delete and add. What fun, what excitement, what suspense! I look forward to the writing of it and I am glad that Pdad will be writing it with me.
* Let me be clear: The only part of the landscaping we did ourselves was the plant selection and installation. We have had a whole lot of earthmovers, sod installers, arborists, sprinkler layers, etc. to help us in the past few years. Bless them! And bless especially the man who suggested digging out our backyard rather than filling it in. Genius! Professionals can be very worthwhile.
Whiny
So I took Duncan to the doctor on Friday for his skin problem. I thought it was a hassle that I’d put off too long, but I knew what he had (impetigo) and I knew that getting antibiotics would take care of it.
I was wrong. He has molluscum contagiosum. For those of you not curious enough to click on the link, I’ll spare you most of the details, but trust me, you don’t want to get this. It is contagious, it is ugly, and it is painful to get rid of.
Duncan isn’t the only one with problems. Kate was diagnosed last week with a significant speech delay. We don’t know why she is behind, but it looks like we probably have lots and lots of speech therapy ahead. Given my own super-fun experience with speech therapy as a child, I am dreading it.
As I was driving home from the doctor with Duncan, I started to feel whiny. What nasty stuff Duncan has. Why are we so susceptible to skin problems? Why do we have these issues? What bad luck! I don’t want to deal with these things. I don’t want my children to have to suffer. I’m tired of it. Bleh. And so on.
A little wiser?
And then for no apparent reason, a ray of wisdom broke through my typically whiny self banter: Your children have been amazingly healthy this winter. You were so worried when it was discovered that penicillin was out of the question for Kate, and yet it has now been over a year and she has never needed antibiotics. What do you call a 2 year old who doesn’t get sick!?!?! A miracle.
And what of comparisons: You want to say how unfortunate and unlucky your family is, but what if someone actually had something serious? You could be taking a child with leukemia to the doctor—to the hospital. Or how about we disregard the hypotheticals? Pmom: you know people with children who have far more serious medical issues than the ones you are worrying about. WHERE IS THE GRATITUDE? WHERE IS THE PERSPECTIVE?
So then, I was ashamed. And thoughtful. And thankful. We are lucky. We are blessed. Molluscum isn’t any fun and I’m so sorry for Duncan. But I am glad for him too.