Doctors say self-fondling no longer mandatory

My OBGYN has been on my case for YEARS about my failure to conduct self breast exams (SBEs). I even had a placard hanging on my bathroom door for the longest time, but even if I had been inclined to do them regularly before having Jamie, anyone who has breastfed for any length of time will know that SBEs are useless while lactating. And I’ve found that anything remotely related to bearing children - like, say, my flabby spare tire - can be excused long after the baby’s been born or in this case, weaned.

Now there is mounting evidence that they’re not really useful, and instead lead to uneccessary biopsies. Um, duh? Don’t get me wrong, I’m very body-aware. I know what my body should look and feel like. My failure with SBEs had nothing to do with ooginess about fondling my own breasts and more to do with equal parts absentmindedness and failure on my doctor’a part in really making a case for why they were so damn important.

The article I linked to says that women should still be aware of what is “normal” for their breasts, but SBEs are now “an option.” So fondle away if it floats your boat, but go ahead and throw the placard away.

The hazards of co-sleeping

With your spouse, that is. MD’s had semi-permanent residence on the couch for going on two years now due to a) his sleep apnea and b) his absolute stuboorn refusal reluctance to go through another sleep study so he can have his c-pap machine recalibrated. But. Recently he lost a bunch of weight (through mental determination, apparently - men suck), and I’ve noticed from the upstairs that he hasn’t been snoring nearly as loudly. In fact, I haven’t had to use ear plugs to block out his snoring one and a half floors away since spring. So, I said we could try him in bed again, but ONLY if he’d put his machine on if I asked him to in the middle of the night.

Now, MD is one of those people that you can carry on entire conversations with, not realizing that he’s actually asleep. Or you may not realize it until he bites your head off for laughing at some bizarre non-sequitor, something that happened in our early dating days (we were NAPPING!). That particular incident ended in tears until he finally woke up and explained what had happened, but there have been times when I’ve pummeled him repeatedly in the head with my um, pillow, until he woke up mad for real because he’s been so damn annoying and won’t shut the hell up already.

All in all, I’ve learned to not sweat it and I can usually find the right balance between taking him seriously enough so that he doesn’t get mad at me…in his sleep…and being dismissive enough that he’ll go the hell…back?…to sleep. So, last night he went to bed before me and apologized in advance for whatever rudeness might occur on his part when I did finally come to bed and might possibly have to shove him back over to his side, as we are both extreme bed hogs. Amazingly enough, about forty-five minutes later when I went upstairs he was curled up on his own side of the bed and didn’t stir when I crawled under covers. But an hour later I woke up to him demanding that I help him find…the tomatoes. The fucking tomatoes - why won’t I help him find the fucking tomatoes?? They’re RIGHT HERE - and he starts throwing the covers around. I sternly told him that “There aren’t ANY TOMATOES in bed, now GO BACK TO SLEEP.” And he immediately did. As did I. Only to wake up briefly a few hours later when Jamie crawled into bed. But being shoved over to the edge of the bed by your three year old ain’t nothing to your husband insisting that there are chopped tomatoes hiding under the covers.

Achilles Heel

Jamie and I have been at serious odds with each other lately. Every evening last week had at least one major pont of contention and there were two nights with an hour+ of screaming. Mostly Jamie. I’ve been trying reallyreallyreally hard not to raise my voice lately. And even so, his stuffed puppy informed me on the way to daycare last Friday that “he” was sad because I had “screamed” at him. Sigh. Long memories make for guilty parents.

Most of the angst revolved around two issues - sleeping (no surprise) and eating (big huge surprise). Jamie has suddenly decided he’s picky about his food and I ain’t having it. He’s NEVER been picky and I can count on one hand his food issues. Doesn’t like mushrooms (and sometimes zucchini), doesn’t like a mix of textures (smooth is smooth, no chunks - although this is less pronounced these days), doesn’t like steak and sometimes pork. Thinks he doesn’t like chicken but almost always does. Therefore, we’ve had the “one bite” rule in our house since he was about a year and a half old, and I’ve never really dumbed down our menu. Sure, I don’t make things screamingly spicy and if we’ve had a particularly international week or two I’ll offer something kid friendly on the night that could possibly break his sense of adventure, but this is the kid that often eats as much or more as me at any given meal and I’m not exactly a lightweight.

We’re working through it with lots of reinforcing of the eat your food or you get cereal/pb&j rule.  The other issue, well, that’s not only a bone of contention between Jamie and I but MD has his own opinions and methodology and the result is a big ole cluster-fuck. If I give Jamie any quarter - say if I lay down with him “just one more time” then 9 times out of 10 we’re on the slippery slope to repeated requests and tantrums that keep him awake well past 10 pm.  But if MD is flexible, it works. So of course he thinks that I could maybe do things a little differently - or as he put it, “[he] doesn’t have any problems at bedtime while [I] do so maybe [I] should listen to [his] ideas” - and it’ll all be well.

Yeah. It’s all been me, these long three and a half years. Could we not point fingers here, really? Everyone has their Achilles heel. MD and Jamie have been fighting about breakfast for a couple of weeks now. Other kids will only eat three/white foods, or destroy the furniture, or write on walls. No one and no one’s kids are perfect. And in a single household there are so many personalities and dynamics in the mix…in our house very often there are 3 children and not one adult willing to step up and make the madness stop already. We could all do better, is all I’m trying to say.

+++

This week is vacation bible school and oi, talk about madness. I’m working tonight and tuesday so it’ll be full tilt until 9 pm. Weds and thurs I’m eating, dropping, and running, then returning later for pick up.  And I’ve just decided that come hell or high water I’m going to knitting night on Thursday. I skipped it last week because Md’s leg was hurting, and I think we both realized that was a mistake when at 6:30, fed up with the whining about dinner YET AGAIN - dude was griping about freaking TATER TOTS - I told Jamie to eat or I was locking him in his room for the rest of the night.

And it seemed like a totally reasonable response.

Twitchy

I am feeling restless and itchy today.

At the conference a couple of weeks ago, I attended a “peer circle coaching” session and was all prepared to be bored and roll my eyes a lot. I signed up in a fit of weakness and career-angst and wasn’t expecting much out of the experience. The fact that our morning flight was changed and we rolled in an hour and a half late only served to reaffirm my low expectations.

Instead of leaving with notebook full of doodles, I emerged with several clear career-related and personal goals, and with a list of short, easy to accomplish tasks in support of those goals. I enjoyed the experience immensely, and while I have procrastinated a little on my list (finding out that your grandma is riddled with cancer on the inside will do that, heh, gallows “humor” alert), I have begun working on my tasks today.

I just wish I could have put that experience in my pocket. Because I am in need of some pointed questioning and cheering on right now.

Happy Friday

This makes me smile.

Thank you

Thanks for the caring comments you guys. And I had to giggle as two of you also slid commentsinto completely unrelated conversations, either in person or via im/email about me getting time away to relaxwhether it be for one night or a vacation. But in all seriousness, I am very lucky to have such good friends.

I stopped by the hospital last night and had a nice chat with my grandma o. Gave her the run down on my trip to Philly and shared Jamie’s excitement at being at the airport and seeing the planes.* My dad was there and he is taking this hard, but he always does have the most trouble out of all of us. I’ll never forget my grandpa o’s funeral. We went to the cemetery afterwards for the internment and my dad couldn’t leave. We sat in the car waiting for him as he went back one last time, my stepmom murmuring, “[Dad], don’t. Please, don’t.”

Anyway, the crazy thing is, she has no symptoms. None. This was found because of something that may or may not be related but apparently the ER doctor who looked at the cat scan told her he’d never believe those were her scans if someone else had told him so. I just realized they were supposed to have a meeting with the oncologist today at 1 and no one called me for an update. She’s determined to leave for Florida on Sunday and last I heard, the doctors were going to try and make that happen. So my 88 year old grandma has cancer throughout her body, and her first thought is getting to florida. Sounds about right. As Mystik Mama said, I have been blessed with two amazing grandmothers who rose above childhood sorrow to live long, full lives. And the prevailing opinion in the family seems to be one of support for her choice of no intervention, so hopefully we’ll manage this in full solidarity with a minimum of drama.

*I am tired and have a long couple of days ahead of me at work, but I just have to tell you about Jamie’s trip to the airport. We didn’t know if he and MD would be able to pick me up as planned as we ended up sitting on the tarmac for two hours. But we squeaked in at the last possible minute, so when I came out of the security gate, they were parked under a big sculpture and apparently Jamie was plotting how to get through security to make it onto the concourse where he could see the planes landing and taking off. Not to see his mom, mind you. The planes.

So after the hugging and kissing and getting of luggage, I was determined that we not leave without him seeing some damn planes. I begged MD to go to the roof of the parking garage. He grumbled because it was late but then made us walk all over the roof to get the best view of the planes landing. Jamie squealed with excitement. He could hardly contain himself. And since it was, what, two days after summer solstice there was still enough light in the sky that we could see the planes clearly as they passed us, but dark enough that all the lights shone brightly and clearly. The air was cool and fresh and it started to rain as we got back into the car, a perfect antidote to the heat and grit of downtown Philadelphia. It was one of my best returns home ever.

Oh

I have lots to write about, but it’s been put on hold on account of two phone calls I received this evening. The first was from my dad to tell me that his mother, my grandma o, was in the hospital, and might have a tumor in her stomach. The second was from my stepmom, with news that my grandma o in fact has cancer in her stomach, liver, and lungs. And that’s all we know at the moment.

No can has

I am scrambling to pack for a trip to Philly tomorrow. I’ll be at a conference until Sunday night and I’m just pulling some clothes out of the dryer, MD is super late getting home, Jamie just finally calmed down and fell asleep, and I have to make a run back to the office sometime tonight to get the power cord to my work laptop.

But I’m blogging, because Kelly has a new blog and you really need to see it. It’s a response to the MoveOn.org “Not Alex” ad, and some of my favorite people have added their kids to it. There’s Henry of course, and Jen’s three, and Karrie’s Max. And a bunch of kids who’s mama’s are a part of the Ravelry Knitters for Obama group.

And Jamie. He’s not available, either.

Waiting

At the start of the new year, I thought that 2008 was going to be special. When MD lost his job in February, I thought - this is it, this is the start of our transitions this year. Things are happening. It’s starting out painful but it will end with transformation. I could feel it in my bones.

There’s been a lot of talk about MD changing careers and going back to school- he’s having a hard time letting go of the current life plan so I am being patient. We have a little time still.

There were a flurry of job applications sent out (for me) a couple of months ago. One was turned down outright (I was qualified but this is a small town when you’re as specialized in your career as I am, nuff said), the other didn’t pay enough and the third, I’m still waiting. It’s in the process within a large, bureaucratic machine. There have been others that I haven’t acted upon. Too scary, too high up, too much. How could I divide my attention further? How could I be so challenged at work and have anything left for home? Home is where I want to be the most, I have to be stingy with my career to be the mother I want to be. But it gives me the excuse to hang back and not take risks. Maybe I could really do it but I am afraid to try.

We’ve had a lot of thunderstorms roll through here recently. I feel as though I am suspended in that moment when the sky darkens and the birds quiet, just before the wind starts to ratchet up, the thunder starts to roll in, and the lightening cracks across the sky. Just as my body feels suspended mid-cycle, right before the monthly wave rolls in. I am eternally crampy, achy, wondering if this is it, is this the beginning of the end? Am I winding down? Are my chances really done?

We had a garage sale this weekend. The weather didn’t cooperate and we packed it in early. Most of the big stuff went - all but the swing and exersaucer. Most of the clothes - “boys’ clothes, NB-3T” it said in my ad - remain. Just enough for another. We wouldn’t use a crib this time anyway. I still have the sling. Where is the magic switch so that MD and I can flip - so he can be the breadwinner and I can stay home?

I wish it existed. I wish I could find it. I wish I knew what was going to happen next.

Colorblind

There’s a lot of talk online and in real life about racism. And a lot of people - white liberals among them - who have been surprised and dismayed by their feelings of racism that have been brought out by the current presidential race.

Thing is, we all fear the other. The unknown. The different. And this is how colorblindness has failed us. If we can pretend that we’re all the same color, then we don’t have to acknowledge that there are social norms other than ours. We can be outraged at a black preacher’s statements without considering that black churches might have their own style of preaching that is uncomfortable for us. Or that maybe black - or asian, or native, or latino - communities can have a dialogue about issues that completely leaves us - the white majority - out. That may actually cast us in a negative light or worse, may not consider us at all.

In many cases, it’s the easy way out, this colorblindness. It allows us to apply our lens of white privilege to the entire world. But we can’t ever be equal if we don’t first embrace our differences.