Hands Full of Rocks

I do not have cancer

Or at least, the biopsy was clear. No signs of anything.

YAY.

I didn't realize how much I was holding my breath - even knowing that they'd have called sooner if there was something major. Past experience was finding out the bad news in person (good doctor, though, very good at handling words like 'malignant' - even though it wasn't malignant that time, either).

I also was really hesitant to mention anything to Work People. I usually have a ton of work friends (girl-wise) I can talk with about anything. Here, not so much in the girl friends. Guy friends. And uh, endometrium discussion is not on the plate.

But still told two of them. One my manager (ish - technically, he's not my manager, he just functions as my manager), one my friend (who I'd told at the time of the biopsy). Oh, and my project manager (female), who panicked when I said I'd be out for the afternoon (and we have a deadline) - but hey, I'm NOT skipping the meeting with the doctor on this one. She backpedaled on the commentary instantly when she had a chance to get accurate perspective.

Mostly, people are very happy with the news. I'm mostly just wanting to stop thinking about it. Unfortunately, having been not thinking about it as much as I usually do, I ended up with unprocessed stuff washing up while I was trying to work tonight.

Whee. I don't like scary. I don't like not knowing, either.

But now, scary is past - for the moment. I just am aware that scary will keep happening at an increasing pace as I get older. Long spans between, I hope. But with my mom dodging a melanoma recently (caught just before it started to move to the next level), and me with this, and ... it just reminds that life is fragile, and we only get so much of it.

I will still be waiting to find out if the procedure helped with the endometrial issue, or if I will need to take other action. But I don't know yet, and won't for a few cycles. Goodie, more waiting.

At least this is just annoying waiting. I'll take it.

Sleeping away

Mr G is off at camp for two weeks. Sleep away camp, first try at this.

I'm not worried about it, though - he's had basic training for sleep-away by going to Baba Camp at my mom's (Baba being my mom) once or twice a year for YEARS. Sleeping somewhere else, under someone else's rules, not a problem. This is obviously a big step up on the difference, but it isn't completely unfamiliar, either. He sleeps in bunks at Baba's, has to manage his stuff, works on a different schedule.

Biggest issue is likely to be food. He doesn't have Fructose Malabsorption, but he does have a self-limited diet, and he will just decline to eat if he doesn't like what's there. Which would be bad at camp. However, he knows he's going to have to try some stuff he otherwise wouldn't eat, and he has 10 'backup' yogurts if there is nothing he can manage at any given meal. Ten being not enough to rely on, but enough to tide  him over if needed.

Everyone thinks that he'll be 'like the other kids' when they first meet him. Yes, yes, we know about kids like him, really, we do. We've been doing this for 20 years (or whatever), he'll be fine.

Yeah, and you really don't know him yet.

I can't count the number of times teachers (often with great experience) have said, 'don't worry, we've got this, he'll be fine' and then have come back later and said, 'um, wow, he really has a strong sense of himself, doesn't he?' - because he WILL NOT choose to follow someone else's path. At 3 years old, he declined to eat at all during school hours (11 hour day!) for three days, because there were no foods he was willing to try. He stuffed himself the moment he got home, to the point that he cried from his stomach hurting so bad. But he would not consent to eat even one cracker. The teachers noted that he declined politely, was calm and direct, and never offensive or angry... but just would not.

At 2 1/2 to 3 1/2 years old, several individuals insisted that he'd learn to use the potty under their guidance. It was either structure, or peer modeling, or reassurance, or something they would do that would convince him to move from Pull-ups to underwear.

Um, no.

No amount of experience applies, when someone is totally internally motivated. It is his decision, and it always has been. Even when he weaned, it was his internal decision that changed things. Not that we can't help him choose - limiting the options works, but you have to be willing to live with the consequences of those options, too. So, if it is 'potty or no trip to the museum' then you have to live with 'no trip to the museum'. When we were told that he had to be using the potty to move up to the other class, that was a wince - but they accommodated him in the other class, rather than requiring him to switch to underwear. He knows that if he follows his own direction, people will line up and follow.

And he also knows that following 'just because everyone else does it' is not the right choice. Not for him, and not for most people. He knew that when he was little, too - and said so, to my face, when I was trying to use peer pressure to get him to use the potty. "Do you really want me to do things just because other people do them?' Um. No, I don't. I really truly do not.

So, he's got his own drummer. March march march.

And off to sleep-away camp. We picked a camp that is  all about the individuals involved. It's a Quaker camp, small but full of interesting people and activities. They have a ton of physical stuff to do (high ropes! swimming! canoeing! wilderness survival! horseback riding!), but also lots of other options for those less physically driven. The age range is pretty big - 7 and up, essentially. All the sevens I met were there with siblings or friends, the two-week session being a lot to ask of 7-year olds. Most of the solo-7's go to the one-weekers (though there were some younger campers who had done one week the previous year, and were doing two this year).

I ended up wanting to stay for camp. Woods, water, food I don't have to cook, games, free time, hanging out with people who like different stuff, learning new things... ooh, ooh, can I stay?

Dang.

Mr G didn't quite kick me out, but he did just go off to join in with the other kids, leaving me talking to the nurse about reflux meds. One of the other kids had stopped by the nurse's line and asked his parents, politely, when they were leaving. Very much in the sense of, um, mom, dad, you can GO now...

I liked the dynamics I saw, too. There was a girl there who ran into friends from a previous year. She struck me as similar to a Fetal Alcohol Syndrome child, reasonably together but with odd gaps in cognitive skills (something I recognize from dealing with fetal alcohol syndrome in the family, no idea if it was FAS or ADHD or meds side-effects, or something else entirely, just that sense of 'gap'). Her mother asked her to stay in line a moment while she took a younger sib to the bathroom. The two friends of hers were called in another direction, said they'd be right back. The girl started to follow, and her two friends turned back to her, affectionately and respectfully (but clearly) indicating that they would be back, and she needed to stay put as her mom had asked.

The 'got your back' thing is really at theme there - another mom was talking about the first year her son was there, when he was 7. One of the kids in his cabin had a bad case of homesickness, and the entire cabin just formed up around him. She said her son had said he didn't have time or energy to feel homesick, because he was too busy making sure the other kid was okay, enjoying himself, being listened to, and so forth. And the other kid did start having fun - with a cabin full of 7 year olds (so earnest!) trying to make sure you do, it would be hard not to get there. 

That's the kind of attitude they indicated they had there when we went to check it out, and it was nice to see the reflection of that in person.

I don't expect Mr G to miss us much. Maybe a little, but not much. He'll be in his element. He doesn't mind being around new people or places. He will roll with the activities until they cross some line of his, and then stop - but he also is respectful about that line, and watches for it coming.

He's extra happy because there were other boys there who were wearing jewelry. Like, two kids under 9 with earrings. He was so on that. Mom, mom, he's got an earring! (We've said no until 16, when we think he'll have his style refined more... might lose that battle sooner than we think!) But that also means he's keeping his rings with him.

I didn't get squishy while he was there, or even after leaving, or at dinner. I can feel it this morning, though, the lack of him in the house.

Mr B is feeling it bad already, though. Last night, he could barely eat, moped around, groused. He did at least do a good job of saying it instead of 'doing' it - he clearly stated that he was going to miss his brother, a lot. To me, and to him. He also did a really good job of supporting his brother in the process of going - helping shop for the last things, helping him pack, carry his stuff to his cabin, and make the bed. Only a little harassing him, even.

So, off we go on another adventure. Stretching the emotional bonds and exercising their function at greater distance. I don't have a sense that there's anything that can't be handled in this. Just a new experience. A very cool new experience.

Next year, maybe Mr B will decide he's old enough to go to sleep-away camp. They have horseback riding there, after all...

And of course, they'll have Mr G, too.

19 years

When I was a teenager, 19 years was, well, a lifetime.

When I was in my 20's, 19 years was a really REALLY long time.

In my 30's, 19 years was still a really long time, but I could stretch my brain to encompass the concept.

Now, I'm in my 40's.

And next week is the 19th anniversary of our first date (with epeepunk, obviously).

Holy shmoly!

Now, I've known him for ... uh, lessee... 43 minus 17 is 26... yoiks! More than 25 years, I've known him. And I can still remember the first time I saw him, sitting there on the back of his parents' sofa, all brown and teenager thin and the cute teenager 'stache. I can also recall thinking 'dang, he's cute' followed promptly by the All Grown Up arrogance, I'm in COLLEGE, I'm moving in with my BOYFRIEND, I'm so BEYOND that high-school teenager cute.

Yeah. hahahahaha. Life is funny, ya know? And his babeness just got better with time, too.

26 years later, I still get the yowza stomach flip if I see him unexpectedly, like when he walks around the corner of the house when I'm gardening and calls my name. Mmmm.

*cough* sorry.

He's still able to cut through my crap without mangling my ego on the way. He's still willing to work on 'us' the way we started out - intentionally. He's still the best team-mate I've ever had, like our brains connect and we pass stuff back and forth (though we grind gears getting started on new things, finessing the fit is part of what makes it work so well, and yeah, there's a little sputter sometimes when we pick up something that hasn't been worked on in ages, too... and then we hit the groove, and it slips into seamless again). For two people who were certain they'd kill each other in a couple of months without constant communication effort, we're doing pretty well.

Actually, the only times we suck at being with each other is when we forget to communicate, which seems to be an issue for everyone not just us... so, eh, we know the deal.

We've been through so freakin' much together, too. I can't count them all. It's been a long long way together so far. Hopefully a long long way to go, too.

Some of my favorite moments, just because I know he's going to read this later:

Looking up on the ballroom floor to see him walk through the opposite door, and realizing that WHOA, he's gotten a lot older at college, and uh, whoa... and the half-second delay before my feet were able to join in with the clump of college women who pretty much sprinted across the floor and skidded to a stop around him to say hello and check out the new punkier look (kilt included, but mmm, boots, and mmm, leather jacket, and hey, I didn't know you had an earring!).

Watching him at a dance party, when he was back home from college (graduated). Most of the dancing was done and we were hanging out afterwards, him on the sofa in the corner reading a book, and a friend of mine glancing up at me, then him, and saying, 'Still waters run deep'. Hmm, speculation begins...

Him looking me in the eye and telling me without any hesitation that it wasn't funny when I'd passed out (while having a nerve-severing injury tended), it wasn't funny at all. Lying there on the ground as my body tried to stabilize itself, looking at him and realizing that he had no fear of being afraid for a friend, no ego or bravado required in telling it as it was. He was just emotionally honest, concerned, and fully present. No small 'just', that.

Sitting up late at night on his bed in his apartment, talking, and talking, and talking. Particularly the conversation where we discussed exactly how we'd talk to our kids about sex. WAY before we were engaged, even.

Waking up that one morning, with the sun shining in the window onto both of us, and realizing I had been hit by the proverbial speeding train, I had it bad. Smiling and feeling that bliss for a glorious moment before realizing that, um, I didn't think he felt the same way back. CRAP.

Watching him lost in the process of figuring out our reception music. Listening, adjusting levels, flipping through the lists of our favorites, thinking it out, trying again. Creating rhythm and flow for each tape, taking the task seriously. I still love those tapes.

Sitting next to him on the wedding bench, knee touching his. I don't even remember saying the vows as clearly as the feeling of his knee against mine. Still remember the vows, though - we had to memorize them (Quaker wedding).

Emptying stuff out of his parents' attic, and finding yet another thing he'd grown up with that was the same as my own childhood - the same books, the same toys (not even usual ones). Over and over, touchstones of his experience being tandem with mine, even separated by distance.

So many times, working nearby while he worked on something, sweaty and speckled with sawdust or debris or paint from some task, noticing his hands or the way he braced his legs for some physical effort or other, and admiring the completely unconscious ease, the physical competence.

Knowing that I was never going to be able to push this baby out, that I was failing at the task, it was just plain never going to work... looking to him as my anchor, in desperation, and seeing his eyes fill with tears as he saw the top of our firstborn's head. Watching him glance toward me with such humility and awe, and knowing all the way to my core that I was not failing, I was succeeding, because I could see it in his eyes.

Coming home from work and finding the house silent. Peeking around the corner into the living room to see him asleep on the sofa, Mr G collapsed against his shoulder, both out like lights after a long day of playing and watching Rockford Files reruns.

Him shaking his head yet again because I'd picked out a movie to rent that we'd seen before (and which I could not recall seeing), and him being able to tell me what date it had been that we'd seen it on, when, where... amused, but not hurt by my total inability to recall things we've done together. (I remember the conversations, he remembers the activities.)

Walking in the door from work, and having him start the conversation with, 'Quit. Quit your job. Just quit. We'll find a way to make it work.' Even though I hung on until I was laid off, having him respond to the daily soul-suck with wanting me free of it was so good.

That time he confessed he was watching this hot college chick walk past our house, mmm, boots, long skirt, mmmmm... and then realize, wait, that's my wife. Heh. Oogling your wife out the window. Tsk.

Getting a call from him at work, an hour into my day, to apologize for the fight we'd had that morning. Moving to problem-solving, taking blame for his share of it, not taking blame for the parts that weren't. Never willing to let the apology wait, or the unhappiness sit.

Sitting at a work event, listening while I politely but clearly disassemble someone's argument (they made the mistake of expounding opinions without knowledge on something I knew a lot about), and when the other guy tried to jump back in and insist he was right (in spite of the chapter and verse I could cite), saying, 'Hit him again, he's still standing.' That sense that he enjoys my competence, knowledge, and capacity to make my case, very sexy.

Standing in the door to the kitchen, watching him pitch baseballs to the kids, over and over.

Him checking in with me to make sure we're talking about the stuff that is important to me, even though he is up to his neck in information and people and talking and is sooooooo done, so done with interacting. Making sure he's not losing something important about me and my cares in the process of surviving being an introvert doing extrovert work day in and day out. 

And a whole bunch of sex ones, but I'm not writing those out. :P

Ninteen years, this Friday. Happy Tuesday, babe.

Research: What we already knew (modeling works)

So, apparently kids will use adults as a model for how to respond in a situation. They watch the adults, and then do what the adults do.

Shock, huh? But research needs to prove these cases, too. And this one holds true.

I liked the term 'emotional eves-dropping' in this one. The kids are listening in to see not just how they should act, but how they should feel, and then act.

Allow me to wince, since I know 90% of my kids acting badly with emotions are straight from us modeling the same. Their stage of development is part of it, and so is their serotonin level (from the fructose malabsorption fermentation reaction). But a big part is us setting the stage for 'if this, then that'.

I also skimmed a long technical article about emotional regulation that had some interesting stuff to say about kids who don't seem to cope well at the early part of an interaction or situation (like, say, early part of school year or the transition out of the school year, maybe?). (There's a lot more in there, this was just something that struck me). The kids who apparently struggle with the emotions related to a new experience appear to be more likely to make a positive adaptation than kids who barely react. Kids who barely react may have a less sensitive emotional process at the neurological level, and may just keep their heads down and carry on in their usual track with less positive adaptation. Some of this may relate to introversion or extroversion (IMHO), but part is just that there's an emotional surge early in the process of adaptation and integrating new information and experience.

I thought that was really interesting. My kids express that surge differently, but they all have about a two-or-three week into the process AHHHHHH! freakout. Nice to know that's actually adaptive, since there's not much we can do about it other than be supportive in response. (Some kids freak out in anticipation, also - I suspect that's probably the same function.)

What I did over summer vacation (1)

When I was a kid, summer meant I ran around and climbed in the mountains and went fishing, and for the big deal we went to California to visit my relatives.

Mr G, Mr B, Miss M, and Miss R get to do something that I would have just rolled over and died for.

They're helping on an archeological dig. It's not hugely historically significant, just local history.

But.

Mr G and Mr B helped find and uncover the foundation wall of the greenhouse on the site we're working. (That's him working it there, next to the string used to mark the site.)

Mr G, being young and sturdy, got to be down in the hole, digging out the wall along its length, pulling out chunks of glazing from the greenhouse windows that had fallen to the ground.

He's actually disappointed that the next dig date he'll be at sleep-away camp. He's super excited about sleep-away camp, but ... he's gonna miss a dig. Dang.

And Mr B?

Likewise electrified by finding history in the dirt. He was working the surface of the wall, clearing it out so we could find out how far it went.
Speculating on where the corner would end, how big the building was, and then following the brick line to see where it actually ended, testing his theory.

Down on his knees, every bit of his attention focused on scraping down to get the top layer of dirt off, then sweeping it away to expose the shape of it.

No complaints. Trying to tear them away even to go get food in them was a challenge.

The experienced adults on the dig were skeptical that the joy of being on a dig would stick - they get a lot of kids, but they grow up a bit and then are too busy with other things to come back. I hope that my kids stick around for the rest of it. Granted, my kids are huge into history, too, so that should help. And it will be okay if they decide they have more important things to do.

They'll still have had a chance to do it, discover history they can touch, learn about how the process of recovering the past works.

Miss M and Miss R were less mentally engaged, even if they were totally there physically - they're not sure what we're doing other than digging up stuff, picking wormies out of the dirt going into the screens for sifting, or looking for chunks of coal or pottery shards.

But that's okay. They're 4. They're good at picking worms out and looking for coal and pottery shards (Miss R is working the screen, fishing out rocks, worms, and roots and searching for pottery shards and coal).

Miss M is even good at loading the dirt from the trench into the screen (which is what she'd doing here - she's in the long-sleeve purple shirt, bringing a trowel-load over).

And before anyone says 'wow, what cool parents to get their kids into something like this' - I take no credit for the experience. When I gave my mom the job of adding enchantment to their lives, she took it seriously. Part of that is the joy in discovery of the world that exploring presents. She'd have been on this fast...

But this isn't even my mom's range. This, in particular, is my sister's gift. My eldest sister does a lot of charitable work, and particularly enjoys getting physically involved with some of it. In this case, she learned about this dig (which is run by a non-profit), and thought it was a perfect situation for the kids to get involved. She's a contributing member to the non-profit. And we provide strong backs and not-so-weak minds to shovel and clear, dig, sift, and collect.

Mostly, we cleared the site and started two small new areas of digging for the dig season. That one trench managed to hit the greenhouse wall was cool. But for the most part, we found nothing  interesting - a few pottery shards, some glass (period glass - turn of the century), a lot of coal. It's grubby, manual effort, with just a few moments of glee sprinkled about. It's also family time, working with mom and dad, aunties and Baba, and making friends across generations with others who came to dig. Mr G and Mr B worked mostly with a couple of older gentlemen - one probably easily in his 70's, the other nearer his 50's. We didn't supervise that, just let them get to work. More management was required for the girls, no shock.

Very satisfactory. I end up so grateful for family willing to engage my kids in their passions. Even if my kids never come back to the dig again, hopefully they'll remember, and have the roots of their lives forever tapped into digging in the dirt, and finding that history is something they can touch.

Hey, there's another hedra out there

I was checking out Bing search, seeing how things come up (cough*binging-myself*cough), and look who I found?

hedra. She's a mom, smart, thoughtful, self-aware, interesting. Probably more interesting than I am, too.

Anyway, I liked her writing, so I'm linking her here...

And you know what's funny? Her real name and mine are the same (first name). I've never met another who used hedra as a nickname before.

Cool. :)

Status report: All good

I think... we'll see when I get to the end of the list.

We just finished up school, and also did the annual exams on the kids (at least the three that still get annual exams... nobody told me that after 10, it's every two years!).

So, status report on the crew:

Mr G: Still himself. He's definitely growing into the preadolescent thing, getting comfortable with the body hair and body odor, and not minding that his body is shifting toward muscle mass and physical bulk. He's still a lean slim type, but he doesn't look skinny so much anymore. He also did a good job in school this year - he dropped some balls, but learned a lot of skills.

One of the key skills he learned this year was how to pull out of a school crisis. You may recall that we were voluntarily quarantined because of the whole Flu Incident. He lost a week of school, and picking that back up was somewhat challenging. Even though we did a lot of schoolwork while he was home, some stuff got dropped. Latin, for instance. And when I say dropped, I mean one of the assignments fell on the floor and was under his desk... Though the other incident was rather more interesting, from a parenting perspective.

Mr G had an in-school assignment where he and another student had to write a story employing Latin words. Not all in Latin, but pulling in things like avian, and pro forma, that sort of thing. The other student took charge and told Mr G that he'd write, and Mr G could just look up the terms. Mr G did not complain, just sucked it up and did as he was told. Only, the story wasn't working. They couldn't find the words they needed for the story the other kid wanted to write, and after three weeks, they had three sentences... (one class a week). Everyone else had three paragraphs. They were supposed to come in at recess to work on it, only the time that the other kid could, Mr G had Band. And then there was the whole week he was out (where no work was done by the other kid at all - and I do understand that it would throw off the sense of fair at this age to do it alone).

Now, to me, this would have set off the 'I need to solve a problem here' alarm, and I'd ask someone - say, the teacher - how to get past the roadblock. But no. Mr G dislikes confrontation, so he neither addressed it with the other student or the teacher. Instead, he ignored it. Until the teacher emailed us and pointed out that as things stood, with the missing assignment and the unfinished final project, his grade was 51%. Um, ouch? The final exam could pull that up substantially, and he was getting 100's on his tests and quizzes, so that would help. But he'd probably still get a C, without the other work.

So we proceeded to coach him on how to approach the problem - how to talk to the teacher, explain what the problem was, and ask for help resolving it. How to make it right with her (because a) she didn't want him to fail, and b) she might be a little sad that he wouldn't talk to her about the problem - or not, but humanizing her side of the problem is always a fine idea). We went through the Effective, Prudent, True process - how do you effectively get the grade in, without making it crazy for anyone, while holding to your values and ethics? Mr G learned a lot about how classes work - he had assumed that 'the assignment is the assignment, and the grade is the grade, and there's nothing you can do to work that system'. Which, as we all know, is wrong for many teachers. There's nothing wrong with going to the teacher, explaining the situation, and asking what you can do that would make it better. Sometimes the answer will be 'nothing'. But many times there's something extra you can do to get your grade to reflect your actual knowledge level.

He ended up writing the entire story on his own (the other student got credit for his own work, Mr G got credit for what he did). And we found the missing assignment (which he hadn't mentioned that he couldn't find and had therefore not turned in... ARGH), and got that in. And he aced his final. Ended up with a good grade.

He actually ended up with the grades we want for him - split between B and A, with A+ only in the 'easy' classes for him (Spanish, Music), A's in the classes in which he grooves (Science, ELA), and solid B's in the classes where he has to work for it. I'd rather see more B's in the grooving classes, too - I want him to be working for those, as well (otherwise he coasts), but this is okay. Enough bumps and lumps to learn from, enough rewards to make it seem worthwhile.

He also scored well-enough in the standardized tests in math, and distinguished in reading/language. That's more 'him being still exactly him'. He likes math fine, but doesn't have a passion for it. Reading and language, those he's owned since he was 18 months old. I could always get a few moment's peace by giving him a book, actually from much younger than that. So, yeah, he's still him.

Mr B, likewise. Mr B started the year very stressed about reading and talking. The whole 'mom failed as speech-language coach' thing had sunk him on that. He resisted, avoided, and generally was miserable around anything to do with language arts. BUT, we'd discussed this with the school, and they'd placed him with a reading specialist as his teacher. End of year? He scored outstanding on his reading. Years above grade level. YAY! The teacher had said she does not hand out O's easily. If you're doing really well, you'll get a P. Only the rockets get O's. Mr B's report card was nearly half O's. WOO! I'd pretty much forgotten (in all the stressing around language arts) that his first love (maybe second, after Art) is math. But he showed that he hasn't changed, there, either. He loves math and logic and figuring. He was the puzzle master, always - could put together puzzles that his four-years-older brother struggled with. It's a nice reminder that he is who he is, and even when I pay attention to just one aspect of him, he's paying attention to the whole thing (at least his teacher is!). This is why I like school.

And then there was the physical. He's returned to his curve, thankfully. Last year, he'd dropped to 10-12th percentile for height. Anything below 50th is Not Good (given our genetics), and he's been tracking at 25%ile since 3 1/2 or so (with periodic plunges below and the very rare creeping above). This is presumed to be related to the multiple carbohydrate intolerances (both lactose intolerance and fructose malabsorption). The combo in particular can stop upward growth. Short stature and higher weight is one of the signs of fructose overload (kids who just drink too much juice will end up the same). For him, it's pretty catastrophic. He was holding a 90th%ile curve until he was 15 months old, and fructose was introduced... sigh. But I'm glad he's at least back to the 25th%ile, now. 10th was troubling. 25th%ile is good enough, even though he'll be a lot shorter than the rest of the family, that way. (ep and I are both in the 97th%ile.) Still stocky, but not as much as before, which also means his diet is more effectively balanced - but not quite enough. More to work on, there.

Miss R's physical was also fine, and she's up around 90th%ile for height. She's got no trouble with the growing thing. And she also never stopped (she is also not apparently lactose intolerant - just fructose malabsorbing). Good, good.

Miss M also rebounded on her curve again. She's been weaving back and forth between 25th and 50th%ile. 50th is probably her normal curve, but when she stopped growing (same age as Mr B), that plunged her down the percentiles. She's all the way back up to 50th now, so while she's petite and notably smaller than her twin sister, she's also just fine for her.

I'm still waiting for the followup from the endometrial biopsy - they didn't expect results back until next week at the earliest, so I'm still hanging fire on that. Ah, well. Waiting is all I can do.

Ep has now got his license, and is a Registered Architect. WOO! :) :) :)

And my work is still crazy, but it's still working, too. There are some major shifts in how things are being done, but in good ways. And I'm still regarded as valuable. My 'report card' is coming back in the form of feedback surveys from the training sessions I'm doing the materials for - the materials are getting high marks, and there's a lot of positive commentary that direction. They'd asked for something really simple, I gave them more than they asked for, and they actually liked what they got (just 'simple' was not going to meet all the needs they had - they really needed complete and depth). And I'm still being asked to help out on my old project, both for the social/cultural stuff, and for the actual thinking and work. I like being asked to help 'because of my brains'. It's nice.

Today we're off to go help with an archeological dig (kids included). Should be a good day. (Last time, Mr G discovered a silver fork from 1897.)

I know the good stuff is often boring, but this is the payoff zone. We struggle with how to coach, how to allow them to be themselves without just letting them range entirely without structure, how to find our way to our own successes without sinking the rest of the family. The balance points tip back and forth all the time - crisis, or problem, or issue, and then problem-solving out of it. Finding ways to be effective, prudent, and true, over and over and over and over and over. It doesn't stop, but the effort gets to be comfortable - most of the time. And then we get the status points that work, get a chance to glimpse the system from a different perspective. They don't all look so pretty. This time, good. Next time could be another problem instead of a success.

But then we'll carry on and try some more, and hope that the time after that will look like this one. Good.

Linkety link link: Breastfeeding support and information

Alanna is working on a breastfeeding resource blog, with stories from real moms about breastfeeding. There's some good stuff there.

Here's mine, complete with philosophizing - I can't stop, apparently! (part 1 and part 2).

Negotiating in real time

Negotiating is one of the skills my mother taught us intentionally, and one that I teach my kids intentionally. It is also a skill I use in my marriage, and one I use at work.

With the kids, it is like a lot of skills and even character traits. More of a pain at their current age than a benefit. I'm taking the long view, but it is a major pain in the butt when they don't yet understand where the line really truly is, but know how to work the angles...

Saturday was one of the big street festivals in our town. Every agency, group, organization, restaurant, student group, and what appears to be half the home-based businesses in the entire town show up, set up booths, and prepare for the flood of families. A lot of regular folk turn out, and it is unusual to wander for any length of time without running into someone you know. (Strangely, this time the first person I encountered was someone from work...)

And it was negotiation central.

Mr G was all over those skills. Before we even reached Main Street (yes, we have a Main Street, which is actually still the main street), he had asked about what his options were if he found something he wanted that was outside his financial wherewithal for the moment. I said I'd spot him change if he was close. Otherwise, no.

And then he saw the first place he wanted to go. Instead of just at the booth, he wanted to go inside. And honestly, I didn't want to. I wanted to stay outside and hang out with the work friend I'd invited down with his wife. It is challenging sometimes to create a friendship outside of work, and more so when you're working across cultures. In general, I haven't pursued a new friendship for years - I just do not have time to make friends with all the people I think would be good to be friends with. Certainly I struggle to keep up with the friends I already have. But still... This guy is enough above the margin that I'm pursuing it intentionally. Plus I majorly need a work friend. I've been at this job since November, and he's the only likely candidate. He's a really good candidate (despite the culture difference), at that, but it's a lot of famine in the friend variety at this job. I'm going to take the one shot I've got.

So, when Mr G wanted to go inside (and wanted an adult with him), I really didn't want to go. I wanted to hang out, be present, be the good host, and...

Sigh. I was faced with a child who knew how to ask for what he wants, and negotiate when faced with a no. He asked for reduced time commitment on my part, stated his case on why he wanted an adult with him, persisted, and explained why the inside of the store was important to see. Okaaaaay, okay. Yes, I'll go with you.

He didn't buy anything, but Miss R did. That left ep on the sidewalk with our tentatively new friends (said work friend and his lovely wife). I think ep got a lot more face time than I did, all in all. Because the negotiation just did not stop. I've mentioned that at this age it can be annoying, yes?

Next it was where we were going next, and how far. Just those two more booths? We can go by ourselves and meet you back here. Can we just look there, please? We don't need to buy anything, we just want to see what is available. And then there was the place with the glass jewelry, and then could he have his own french fries instead of sharing them, and ... My brain hurts. He was good at it. Persistent, challenging my logic and my assumptions, working the system for his greatest benefit without tipping the scales too far.

He did max out eventually, and get to the begging for a loan stage - just a few more dollars to spend. Granted, he'd misunderstood something I'd said, and then he felt like I'd gone back on my statement (rather than having misunderstood or misinterpreted). And so when he'd spent his money (plus the change I said I'd spot him), he thought we were still going to go back to another stall and get something he'd seen there. Only, he was out of money. But I'd said. And yet he was out of money. And then it was like this...

Mr G: But you know, mom, I'm very good at earning money. I'm good at it, I'm fast, I will have the money in just a couple of days. Baba is paying me more and ...

Me: We don't want you getting in the habit of spending outside your means.

Mr G: But it's inside my means if I have it in two days.

Me: No, it's not.

Mr G: That's not how I see it.

Me: It's how I see it, though, and I'm not comfortable teaching you to buy on credit.

Mr G: It's not credit!

Me: It's a loan. The International Bank of Mom is closed.

Mr G: But you know I'm able to get the money, and you SAID.

Me: I said, yes, but I meant only if you hadn't already spent your budget - which also fits within what I said.

Mr G: But I really want BOTH, mom!

Me: I understand you want both. You really, really want both. You chose to buy the better item, more valuable and a more reasonable option, which will last longer and suits your style better.

Mr G: But I think the other is really cool.

Me: Hmm, I recall that at the time, you weren't sure if it was good enough, which says to me that it wasn't.

Mr G: But it was!

Me: Okay, even if it was, opportunity cost is something we all have to live with. You got the better item at the expense of getting the merely good item. That was a good choice. To me, that seems the best choice. It still is uncomfortable, because you'll still feel the wanting for the 'just good' thing that you also wanted. But you'll feel better about that sooner than you think. (realizing lecture mode started, cutting back)

Mr G: Are you sure?

Me:  Yes, I'm sure.

Mr G: Really, really sure?

Me: Very sure. You made a good choice, Mr G. It's just uncomfortable when you can't make every choice you want to make all at once. It is kind of ouchy.

Mr G: Yeah. (Collapsed his head against my chest for a hug.) I still really want it. I think you should...

Me: No. Bank is closed.

Mr G: You know I could earn it.

Me: Yes, I do. And I'm still not going to give you the money. It would be a bad habit to start.

Mr G: But I don't ever ask for extra money or loans!

Me: Actually, Mr G, you do. Nearly every time you find something you can't afford, you ask us to spot you the extra. I already did that today. I'm not doing it again.

Mr G: Oh. (Attitude shifted as he realized I was actually right, and this wasn't a case of 'you never, you always, it's not fair!'.) Okay. (pause) Can we at least walk past the stall?

Me: No.

Mr G: But you SAID.

Me: No, it will just eat at you. We're going to walk our guests home now. This direction.

Mr G: ARGH.

Me: I understand. But we're going this way. Now, please.

Mr G: Okaaaaaay.

That part wasn't the ideal negotiating methodology, but it was a good conversation anyway.

When we got home, he was still on the verge of tears from frustration. He sooooooo wanted to buy both things. But no, mom held her ground and didn't roll over. Dammit. But he also solved that emotional state problem by asking if he could get out his woodsman's blades and hack some cardboard up to put in the recycling bin. Yeah, sure! So he banged away, distracting himself with the exercise. He didn't do it angry, either - not aggressive  banging, just something that took some concentration and effort. By the time he came in, he was looking a lot more peaceful. Next morning, he was still wishing it could have been otherwise, but he's not depressed about it.

All good.

And that's just one layer of negotiating I did. There was also the uppies/carry-me negotiation (I overdid things earlier in the day and started bleeding from the endometrial biopsy, so I was trying to keep the physical effort down... only, I didn't manage that, because there was too much fun to be had carrying Miss M upside-down, and dancing with them on my hip, and doing dips... and uh, that was stupid. Stoooooopid. Can I say stupid again? STUPID. ARGH.).

Beyond that further, and much more important, is the slow, gradual re-negotiation of our roles (ep's and mine), the arrangement of who we are together and who we are apart, and how we shift those. I've been appreciating him a lot, and it has come out in ways that he appreciates NOT AT ALL. Oy. So, we're re-negotiating how to even express things effectively, and how best to attend to each other. Negotiating where one role starts and the other ends, and how to structure the re-connections, and all of that.

At least the doc did say that I need only wait three weeks to resume, er, activity. But still six for biopsy results, unless there's something more important sooner. I'd have rather not waited any weeks for the former. Or the latter, really. But the former is always good when renegotiating roles and boundaries and needs with one's partner.

Meanwhile, negotiating in a different way continues, too - negotiating the tricky boundaries of an intercultural friendship just ticking over the line into the real friends category. Still too new to lean on without breaking it, and far too many tricky areas to just let it grow in without some careful observation, and yet more negotiating.

There's a lot of that going around.

Work rocks; Getting older

Sorry for the slow posting - very busy life.

Work is good. Too busy, too exciting, too many hours. And strangely, I'm so used to NOT loving my job that I've had a harder time coping at home. When work was sucking my soul out my eyeballs every day, coming home - no matter how noisy, messy, or overwhelming - was always refuge.

Only, now, work is fabu-freaking-losa. I like my coworkers, they like me, I'm doing interesting stuff, I pretty much get to play most days, or do work I'm well-qualified for... people ask my opinion and take it seriously, and any time I suggest that maybe I'm not 'all that', my boss tells whoever is listening that I'm just modest, and they're amazingly lucky to have someone of my caliber and experience. Uh, okay, sure. I like the flattery, and for some things I know they're right (and others they're probably right, but I don't know it all the way down yet, and some they're not quite that right, but they don't care because I'm still better than what they have already). Pressure is on to perform to expectations, but ... you know, it's nice to be appreciated.

And then there's home, where the kids want to be carried, fed, and attended to, they all want my attention at once, they fight going to bed, they try to dodge going to sleep, and at the moment I have no idea how to handle Miss R - she has my number, and dials it frequently, and I have no clue how to handle it yet. She's very 'you can't make me' right now. ARGH. Hate that stage.

Sigh. So, coming home not quite the refuge and shelter it had been, and that means I'm not quite as overtly grateful about stuff as usual, and that means ep ends up feeling resentful and unappreciated (which is totally valid), and that means we grump at each other more, and that makes work look even better by comparison... oy. At least I realized this weekend what the trigger point was (the whole 'wait, work rocks, home is lumpy, I'm not being terribly appreciative of the home front stuff, and I know how much I hated that feeling when the situation was reversed, so... uh. whoops? wince.). And then there's further lumpiness over the grouchiness with each-other, and that cycles, and then we don't work in unison quite so much as usual, and lumpity lump lump. Ouchies.

Though when we start rolling and clicking in tune again (like when we encountered a lovely expectant mom of twins through a school connection) we slip right back into gear with each-other. Nice to have the reminder about how smoothly we work together when we're working the same project. It's an automatic 'got your back' feeling, picking up gaps, handing off the tasks between us, rolling from one area of focus to another, easy handoff. Lovely. I miss that on the parenting front. And if I work late, by the time I get home, it's now harder to just shift into parallel gears because he's already past his margin, and I'm not yet up to speed on the transition, so gears grind yet again. At least now we have a sense of where the gear grind is coming from, so we can true that up. It works better on the weekends, but weekday evenings have sucked a bit, all around. Bleah.

And then there's my other stressor - endometrial biopsy tomorrow. My cycles have been getting worse instead of better as I've been getting older and closer to menopause (probably at least partly due to being hyperovulatory - more than one crop of eggs a month means thicker endometrium). But rather than just assuming that it is thicker for normal-ish reasons, we're checking into it. More, because having twin girls pushes risk of estrogen-related cancers up (due to the double estrogen loading). So we're being cautious, and doing the biopsy route. Likely I'm just in the normal-range 'heavy flow' camp, and the procedure (D&C, hysteroscopy) will shift everything in the right direction anyway. But if not, better to catch it early than to wait and see too long.

I'm less worried about the biopsy results than about the anesthesia. I've never had general anesthesia before. Even if I had endometrial cancer, likely it would be very early, and while treament wouldn't be fun (by any means), prognosis isn't too scary on the early ones. And for some reason, people messing about inside my uterus is not a problem - I've had an OB's hand inside my uterus before (fishing out Miss R), so that doesn't weird me at all. It's the never-been-done part that usually bugs me, since I don't know how I'll react to it.

Getting older. Have to think about these things. Definitely out of warranty, and starting to lose parts on the highway.

Ah, well. The engine is still running, at least!