Avasmommy
Mother’s Day Weekend with a Trip to the ER
I don’t really know how to describe this last weekend. Roller Coaster is, frankly, an injustice. It was much more than that. Mother’s Day was amazing. Full of family, good food and lots of laughter and play with the kids. I got a beautiful basket of flowers (that I really hope I remember to water!) and most importantly lots of hugs and kisses from my Ava.
The day before Mother’s Day? Day. From. Hell. No hyperbole. I’ve been through some truly awful things in my life. Nothing, and I mean nothing compared to this.
I don’t know how else to tell you except to start at the beginning. I hope that writing this all out, will somehow help me put it behind me. At least, start to. The day started off great. Ava and I spent a couple hours in the kitchen. We baked a cake and prepped pasta salad for dinner that night and the next. (our job was to bring the pasta for the Mother’s Day dinner). We were looking forward to her best friend Ella, and her mom, Shiela, a dear friend of mine coming over that afternoon. We planned a trip to the park and then back to our place for burgers on the grill.
Mid morning we set off to hit up a couple of thrift stores and then have lunch. Ava wanted to go to Dairy Queen, and since it was a pretty warm day, I had no problem agreeing. We ordered our food and sat down to wait. After a minute or so, Ava announced she needed to use the bathroom. So I took her back, and here’s where the fun started. She sat down and immediately began crying that she hurt and couldn’t go potty. She said it burned and hurt really bad. Ok. I immediately suspect a UTI. Problem? It’s Saturday afternoon. No Urgent Care places open. Next stop? ER. Can’t let this go until Monday.
We got checked in and had a pretty short wait considering how many people were there. I explained what was going on to the triage nurse, the next nurse and then the doctor. As I expected they wanted a urine sample. And that my friends is where the ship went off the rails. She tried. Bless her little heart she tried so much, but she couldn’t go. Even after a cup of cranberry juice. The doctor was insistent about getting something. (Please note here that after attempt one, she got a couple of drops out, and we were told, nope, not enough). So in comes two nurses and catheter. Ever had one of those put in? I don’t recommend it. Much less on a not quite four year old.
I had to hold her hands and hold her still while they tried. Three times. After try three, I drew the line. STOP. You’re done hurting my child. I have to write it out here. She screamed at the absolute top of her lungs. Her face and head was beet red. Her whole body shook with pain. And not only was I not stopping them, I was holding her down while they did it.
I know it had to be done. I know they had to try. I know she had to be seen to get meds so that we could kill the infection. I KNOW this. But I cannot get those images of her screaming in pain out of my head.
I still haven’t really let myself have “breakdown” over it. I’m afraid to. I’m afraid I’ll start crying and never stop.
At this point the doctor came back in and said she couldn’t diagnose her without something. I told her right then and there they weren’t laying another hand on my daughter. She looked at the “sample” Ava was able to squeeze out earlier and said that was enough to culture at least. At that point I wanted to slap the shit out of pretty much every person there. They really didn’t need to put Ava through that. Other than being money hungry, test running jackasses.
See I know a thing or two about UTIs. I also know that almost always a broad spectrum antibiotic will take them out. I also know that getting a successful result on a culture is only about 50%.
The doctor left and a nurse came back in asking if we needed anything. I said other than a prescription and our discharge papers, no we didn’t. About 15 minutes later we got both of those.
By that time my ex had arrived and we all went back to Dairy Queen and had an actual meal. Then we went to Walmart to fill the prescription and, as I put it, buy the poor kid any damn thing she wanted.
And what she wanted, as it turned out was this: 
She’s talked about it a few times since. The nurse kept telling me “Oh, she won’t remember.” Uh no, she remembers everything. Like the house we moved out of a year ago when she wasn’t even three yet. She says she doesn’t like going to the doctor anymore. I’m worried that from now on she’ll make that association.
On the whole, she seems to have moved on. I am trying really hard to do the same. But there is no hurt in the world like your child’s hurt. I’d have taken on any amount of pain to spare her that.
So. That’s how my Mother’s Day weekend went. I really hope yours was awesome.
To Future Ava
I don’t have a clue what your future holds.
Will you be a lawyer, successful with a busy life full of friends, family and career?
Will you be a stay at home mom, spending your days wiping noses, driving to and from softball games and gymnastic lessons?
Will you be a bleeding heart liberal? Will you spend your time actively working to better life for people around you?
Will you be a conservative Christian, who thinks government should stay out of private lives and private sector?
I don’t know what paths you will take. I have no idea what roads you will travel, or what adversity you will face.
I don’t know if one day you will come to me and tell me that you don’t like boys, you like girls.
What I do know is that it doesn’t matter. I will love you no matter who you love.
Except it does matter. It matters because ignorance and bigotry still exists in such ugly fashion at the time I am writing this.
Because some people still believe it is ok to take away the rights of people who lead different lives than their own.
Less than a hundred years ago we were having these same discussions. Except then it was about white people thinking that black folks weren’t entitled to the same rights. Marriage, the ability to vote, to shop in the same stores, eat at the same table, be taught in the same schools.
For my generation, it’s absurd to even think about. Of course the color of your skin doesn’t matter. Below the surface we are all the same. To misquote some Shakespeare, “Prick us, do we not bleed?”
To be honest, we still haven’t gotten past all of the bigotry towards black people. The fact that the KKK still exists, and other, hate-filled groups like them, is evidence of that.
But it’s not legal to tell black people they can’t have our rights. Hatred doesn’t just disappear stealthily into the night. It finds new targets.
I hope by the time you are old enough to read and understand this, you too will be appalled that we ever had to even have these discussions. That they were wrapped up in religion and God and Jesus as excuses to justify the bigotry. People cherry picking Bible passages to further their own agenda, all the while ignoring the fact that we have a separation of church and state in this country and laws cannot and should not be biblically based. Let’s not even get into the fact that the Bible is full of things that were perfectly acceptable then that we find abhorrent today: slavery, stoning, selling of women as chattel, polygamy, etc.
Whether Jesus would have approved of homosexuality is irrelevant. He sat and dined, at his invitation with the worst of his era’s society. He preached love and tolerance. He did not preach hate and exclusion. All humans are worthy of God’s love. All. Not a select few.
Allowing gay people to marry, in civil unions and state sanctioned marriages in no way undermines or weakens marriage between two heterosexuals. Men and women will still marry and divorce, I might add, at the same alarming rate as always.
No, I don’t believe churches should be forced to perform the ceremonies. Again, we are circling around back to that separation of church and state people seem to conveniently forget when pushing their own agenda.
I got married in chapel. By a man licensed by the state of Nevada to perform the ceremony. Six years later a judge signed some papers and it was all over.
Who the hell am I, or anyone else, to say that this right is only for a select few?
So, my dear Ava, I don’t know if you will marry a woman, a man, or not marry at all.
What I do know, is that I want the choice to be yours, and not someone else’s.
Weekend of Fun In Pictures
After 80bazillon months of nothing but rain, we finally had a sunny weekend. I wanted to make sure we took full advantage of it.
Ava and her BFF Ella had a play date at the park. We got there a bit early, so Ava wanted to inspect all the beautiful tulips that were in bloom. She found a bench, and immediately hopped up on it for a photo opp.
Next, she discovered the grassy area among the rosebush beds. She took off running. Only pausing to look back to make sure I was still behind her. “Come ON, Mommy!”
Then Ella arrived and off they went. Almost 3 hours of non stop running, jumping, climbing and sliding.
See those tulips? She found them on the ground. Would NOT let go.
Yesterday was mostly spent in front of one mirror or another, admiring herself in her new Hello Kitty shirt. Girlfriend is beyond obsessed with Hello Kitty right now.
We did get in some play time outside. She loves picking the white fuzzy dandelions that are EVERYWHERE currently. I wish I’d gotten a picture of her with them. With each one, she would close her eyes and say “I wish for a rainbow” and then blow the dickens out of that flower. We also blew bubbles and did some yard work. After that it was dinner with Nana and Papa.
I let her climb in my bed last night while I took a shower. I came out and found this:
I think I wore her out. 
A Random Update
It’s been quite a while since I have written much of anything. I seem to be running out of time and energy for blogging. Maybe it’s the weather, the rain that never really stops. We get teased with a random day of sun every month or so, but winter has not released her grip on us for the most part.
I had hoped to have a fun outdoor Easter egg hunt with Ava yesterday. But the wind, rain and cold had other ideas. So instead I hid two dozen plastic eggs filled with various small toys and candy around the house. I didn’t hide them too deviously and she was able to find them all without too much direction. But then Nana had to hide them so she could find them again. And then it was Papa’s turn. And so on and so forth.
She called it Bunny Hunting. I don't know either.
Last week found us in the ER, after she got her hand caught in a heavy garbage can at Grandma’s house. When I got the call that she was hurt, Grandma said she couldn’t move her fingers. I arrived ten minutes later and she could move them, but I took her in to have it x-rayed all the same. She was a trooper through it all, and asked for a Kit Kat bar when it was all over. I complied and promptly had one as well, breaking my no chocolate for Lent rule. It was either that or a drink to steady my nerves and since I can’t stand the taste of alcohol, chocolate it was.
I’m dipping my toe ever so slowly back into the dating pool. I signed up for a dating site and in 24 hours had messages from 50 different creepers all just “Looking for a good time”. I’m no prude, but I am SO not the one night stand type of person. Personally, I think someone should make a movie out of this and title it “24 Hours and 50 Sleazeballs”. I think Angelina Jolie could play me, don’t you? Anyway, all this has gotten me to wondering if all the good ones really are taken, or if that’s just a fallacy all us single women sell to ourselves just so we can adopt 50 cats and be on our way to an episode of Hoarders.
Y’all, in two months my baby girl is gonna be FOUR. I’m kinda in denial about the whole thing. Four isn’t toddler stage anymore. Four is demanding, and bossy and full of attitude and drama. I AM NOT READY FOR FOUR. I’m waffling harder than Mitt Romney about what to buy her for her present. Also, I’m realizing that *I* remember being four. So from now on, I really have to be mindful of the fact that anything we say or do, she will remember in 20 years. If that’s not a daunting prospect for a parent, I don’t know what is.
I hurt my back pretty badly in the middle of February and had to make a middle of the night ER visit. That was fun, let me tell you. And as an added bonus, I had to call my ex to drive me to the hospital. I need an emergency buddy around here. Someone that I can call at 1 am and vice versa. Suppose you can find those on Craigslist? Anyway, I’m mostly healed up now, but I am still having to be careful, lest I aggravate my asshole disc again. Walking with one leg completely numb from nerves being compressed is totally fun, by the way. If it were an Olympic sport, I’d totally have the gold medal.
Today the sun is out, before we have another week of rain and wind. It has me dreaming of planting flowers and a vegetable garden. I am hoping that being involved from dirt to table will cause Ava to be a bit more interested in vegetables. It’s an uphill battle with her, and only small victories so far. She does love her fruit, so at least she has something healthy on a daily basis.
Oh, I got a bookcase finally. It’s only been a year since I packed away all my books. Poor dears haven’t seen the light of day since. But now I have a nice new bookshelf in my bedroom and tonight I am going to unpack and READ again. Ava got a new one too, but it still needs paint and something to make it look like it belongs in a girl’s room. But we’ll get there.
It’s been a year, almost now, since the move. I think it’s safe to say we’re pretty settled. It may not be the life I envisioned us having, but all in all, it’s a pretty damn good one.
Now, if we could just find a way to get rid of PMS hormones…..
Trayvon
Trayvon Martin was not killed by a hoodie.
One hand, I can’t believe anyone would say that, and on the other hand, it’s precisely that kind of ignorant behavior that has led us exactly to where we are now.
And where are we?
Where we are is an unarmed African American 17 year old kid was shot and killed by a self appointed “Neighborhood Watch” vigilante.
Yes. Vigilante.
When you act to take the law into your own hands, you are acting outside of the law.
Police told him to stand down.
He didn’t.
He got out of the safety of his vehicle and chose to pursue a kid who had the audacity to be black and walk through a white affluent neighborhood.
Trayvon was killed because he was someplace his killer decided he shouldn’t be.
To try to boil this issue down to the choice of clothing is an insult.
It’s not the clothes than need to be changed; it’s the attitude of pretty much every non black person who spouts this kind of idiotic nonsense.
It’s the ridiculous media running stories with headlines “Why black teens are suspicious of police”.
It’s the white ladies who hold their purses tighter when the see a black man approaching them, and lock their car doors at the same sight.
It’s the old man looking out his window, and calling the police because someone with darker skin than him is walking down his street.
It’s the parents who give lip service to “all people are equal” and then proceed to shelter their children from anyone who doesn’t look like them.
It’s getting out of our white privileged heads that racism is not dead just because we enacted basic civil rights.
It’s talking about our prejudices and misconceptions and having a real dialogue without going on the defensive about our past actions and behavior.
Until we have real, honest discussion and not sound bites, this kind of thing will keep happening.
Indeed, I’m sure it’s happening somewhere, right now, as we speak. We don’t hear about all the Trayvon Martins of the world.
We should.
We should hear about them, and care about them, and get angry enough about them and feel sad for them until we finally get it through our heads.
No, a hoodie did not kill Trayvon Martin.
Ignorant attitudes about race did.
Kisses Fix Everything, Don’t They?
You held up your finger to me for a kiss, having gotten it caught in the zipper of your pajamas. I obliged and asked you, as always, “all better?”. You nodded yes and turned over, with your thumb in your mouth and your special Red B in hand. Eyes closed, you drifted off to sleep, tucked into the warmth and safety of my arms.
I could not sleep. I lie awake thinking of how I wish that I could always fix your worries with a simple kiss.
You’re a strange mix of baby and little girl, not really either one or the other, with a foot in both worlds. Some days you assert your independence to the fullest degree possible and others, you retreat to the safety and ease of having Mommy do it all for you.
It’s a new world we are navigating, with me having to decide when to hold on and when to let go. I feel breathless and dizzy thinking about how fast your life is traveling. Soon, too soon, you will be in preschool, surrounded by other children but without anyone with which you are familiar around you. You need this. I know you will love it. But my heart squeezes and skips a beat when I think about it. I remember how terrifying my first day of school was. But I have to keep reminding myself that you are not me.
What I do know is life throws us curve balls. Usually when we least expect it. I may not always be able to fix your problems with a simple kiss. I will always offer one, along with a shoulder to cry on, a hug, and an ear that will always be yours.
For now, I’ll continue to cherish the moments that are fixed with a kiss.
Thirty Nine
Today begins the last year of my 30s.
It’s been a momentous decade. I got married. I had a baby. I got divorced. I moved to a new town.
I think it’s safe to say I”ve learned more in the last year than I have in all previous years combined.
I learned how to live on my own.
I learned how to live without my sweet baby girl for half the time.
I learned it is ok to say no.
I learned who my real friends are and who I can truly count on.
I learned what other people think doesn’t matter, as long as I know the truth.
I truly learned the meaning of “pick your battles”.
I’ve watched my Avacakes go from baby to little girl.
In the last year I met my best friends in person for the first time. An amazing 4 days that hold memories that I will never forget.
I think the biggest thing that’s changed in the last year is just me learning to love me for who and what I am. I owned my failures and my mistakes.
I learned there is no point in arguing with someone who will never listen to you.
I learned I can face my biggest fears.
I learned that there is no limit to the power of a good hair cut.
I learned that I can be, and am….happy.
Thanks to all of you for staying with me on this journey. I look forward to the rest of the ride.
Random Tuesday Stuff
I’m actually kind of glad to have a break from three day weekends for a bit. They really throw off the rest of my week. I spend all day Monday thinking it’s Sunday and well, it just goes down hill from there.
I whipped up a batch of veggie fritters this weekend. The recipe is up over at Foodie Parent. I’d love it if you took a moment to go over and read and comment. Some big stuff happening over there, none of which I can talk about, but your support there would be truly appreciated.
After spending three years saying “I have absolutely zero interest in watching Glee” I was forced to eat my words this weekend. I stumbled on it by accident, as some network was running a marathon and well, I fell down the rabbit hole. I have now watched almost the entire first season on Netflix and I *may* have even bought a song or two on iTunes. *cough*
I was housebound for a lot of my three day weekend, in part due to the BIG HUGE snowstorm of 2012. Never mind that we’re barely 2 weeks into the year. It’s been mostly a non event..oh don’t get me wrong, we got about six inches of snow so far and a lot more than that has fallen and melted, but I fail to see anything to get super worked up about. My only concern is that I live on top of a hill and getting either to or from my house can be, um, challenging if the roads get too slick. So I mostly stayed home under my warm blanket. I did venture out last night to take Ava to dinner. She was delighted by the huge snowflakes that fell and landed on my head.
Somehow or another, my case for my phone is broken. Well, cracked. But I’m just OCD enough that the crack is making me crazy. Also making me crazy? The 80 bazillionmilliontrillion different patterns and styles of iPhone cases out there. Too many decisions. Can someone just mail me one?
I downloaded the beta for Lightroom 4. For those who don’t know, it is a photo editing software. Simply put, it’s freaking amazing. Totally blows Photoshop out of the water in terms of quality and ease of use. I will cry when my trial period is over, because I’m not shelling out $300 to buy it outright. What can I say? I’m cheap. Why, hello, Picnik.
And just for funsies, a random pick of the Avacakes. Because this kind of cute just has to be shared.
22
It is January and the sky is a vibrant blue today. Not something we often see here in Oregon in the dead of winter. There is a cold wind blowing the clouds and rain away, rain that would remind me of that day 22 years ago when I said goodbye.
I don’t want to always feel sad on this day, and yet I do. I feel sad that as I watch my girl play he’s not there to chase her around the house or terrify her with stories of bugs and wild animals, as he used to do with my cousin and me when we were small. I call my mother and wish that he was there to join in the yelling of I love yous and I miss yous into the phone line across the distance.
I guess what I miss now isn’t so much for me anymore, as it is for what could have been and what should have been for her. Sad for him that he never got to witness the impish delight in which she goes through life, finding laughter and smiles in the smallest of things.
He would have loved that she likes to help in the kitchen.
I’m left to only imagine in my mind’s eye the two of them together. I can see her standing on a stool, next to him, as I once did. Stirring something in a pot. I see her under a blanket, being read a story, clutching an old teddy bear that once belonged to me.
I see my past and my present collide so fiercely when I look at her. I see his ears. Ever so slightly pointy and elfin. I see his eyes, which are also my eyes, peering back at me under impossibly long lashes. I imagine how his face would light up when she would come over to play. There would be tea parties and games of hide and go seek.
I know he’s watching over us and smiling somewhere. I feel it, I believe it.
Tomorrow I’ll sit down with pictures and my girl and we’ll talk about him and how much I loved him, and how much she would love him too. I”m the keeper of the memories, now, of the past and all it contains. I’ll try to bring him to life as much as I can, for her. And for him.
One Year Later
I moved my last post back to the draft folder. I was hesitant to publish it at all, even privately, and bare myself so completely as to the struggle of emotions.
Those of you who read and as usual, supported me, thank you. Your words mean so much and I feel each one of them as a warm embrace.
The sheer act of writing has brought about some form of catharsis. The emotions have shifted to something different, less intense and not quite as crushing.
Life and the act of living it never ceases to ebb and flow. The waters rush in and bring forth a wave of the unexpected and just as suddenly recede and take with them part of me.
***
I so rarely have time to write in this space now. I thought after the divorce, it would be the opposite.
Work has gotten busier.
Now only having Ava for half the time, I find myself tethered much less to the online world when I’m with her. It’s our time, and it’s precious time. I don’t want her to look back in 20 years and remember me as always on the computer or always checking my phone.
I took a chance and started doing something I enjoy – food blogging. I don’t know where it will lead, if anywhere. But I’m having fun doing it, most of the time, although it does seem to take up time that I used to spend here, writing.
I’ve been working on learning how to use the fancy camera I bought for myself a couple years ago. I would love to be able to take photographs that are frame-worthy, instead of “Oh, dear, I think we’ll just delete that one”.
They say that 40 is when a people really start to know themselves. I’ll be 39 in less than a month, and as I approach that number, I see that there is definitely some truth to that. I think it’s also an age in which we are more easily able to identify the disingenuous in others as well. I see things, and people so much more clearly now than before. Sometimes it comes as a great surprise to know that in which you have counted on was not in fact, what you ever thought it was. Or maybe you did, but you convinced yourself otherwise. It gets harder to lie to one’s self as you age, I think. It’s harder for you brain to play along.
I find I’m much better able to pick my battles. I find myself backing away from things more often, knowing I would be fighting a losing battle.
I rediscovered the pleasure of sleeping alone. At first it was strange, after sharing a bed for 12 years. But after the oddness wore off, I found how much I love it. I can stay up late watching tv in bed, or reading a book. I can toss and turn and not worry that I’ll wake anyone. I don’t have to worry that my body pillow and I are taking up too much room. There is no snoring to keep me awake.
Of course, I enjoy cuddling with Ava on our “sleepover nights”, which happen once a week. It’s nice to be able to reach out and have her hold on to my hand as she sleeps. I’ll savor that for as long as she will let me, for I know the day is coming when even a hug from me will seem “uncool”.
I enjoy a girls’ night out with a friend now and then. Something that I never used to do, but I find now to be immensely fun.
I got on a plane last year for the first time in several years. It was terrifying and thrilling and I can’t wait to do it again.
I discovered the kind of friends that all women should have: honest and steadfast. The kind that will tell you when you’re being a jackass, hold you up when you’re falling down, and find places to bury the bodies. The kind of friends that will be around in 50 years when we’re all hard of hearing and are yelling at each other over the breakfast table at I-Hop.
When you’re alone, especially after a life changing event, it’s almost impossible not to do a lot of navel gazing and introspection. I’m not perfect and a lot of my failures and flaws led me right to where I am today.
I’m getting better and discerning what truly makes me happy and what was just filler for when I wasn’t. Maybe that’s the secret of life.
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