Dark, solemn, rainy, overcast. But, this blog post helped. A little.
We’re waiting for Hillary’s concession speech at work.
Dark, solemn, rainy, overcast. But, this blog post helped. A little.
We’re waiting for Hillary’s concession speech at work.
We made it until midnight last night. Nothing had been called officially, but numb with shock and disbelief, we resigned to turn off the TV and wait for the final results that would greet us this morning. Rolling over at 5:45 this morning, I know I held out hope that the BBC, Globe, and CBC alerts on my phone would have a different name, the right name, announced as the next President. My stomach sank. And it remains there.
Shock, disbelief, dismay, and utter bewilderment. Fear, and sadness. Shame.
How has a nation willingly and freely chosen this man to lead them? To represent them. To protect and defend and advocate for them?
How have they decided that what he stands for is the example that our children ought to be following?
How are they proud to have him stand on the national and international stage, spittle spewing from his racist, sexist, fear-mongering, antagonistic mouth, telling our children that this is the man that we can confidently follow; this is the man who represents our common values. This is the man that should inspire us all to be better and to make this planet better.
So many smug little comments I’ve made over the last few months about ‘being thankful that I have my Canadian passport to fall back on.’ That’s hardly the answer. It sure as shit makes returning there a hell of a lot more real. But we are all in bed with this moronic elephant. We are all going to feel his every roll. And for the first time, I feel a a real unease. An unease at the choice this nation has made. An unease at what this reveals as the guiding values and principles that such a powerful nation upholds in electing this man. An unease at the impact this poses on our safety living in New York.
Anxious in going to sleep last night, for the first time asking ‘if we’d be ok’, I reassured my daughter last night ‘not to worry. There’s no way Trump will win.’ We’ve talked a lot about the election over the last few months- the signs and the talk has been visible even to a 7 year old, and just on Monday the playground erupted into a ‘Hil-ar-y’ chanting party…(it’s New York. and it’s a certain part of New York, where the blue flows).
I don’t know what to tell her this morning. I don’t know what’s going to happen. And I don’t know if we’re going to be ok.
What a colossal disappointment.
Just a quick note on our current photography gear.
Sara is still running her tiny, awesome, easy and insanely capable Sony Rx100m3.
I’ve purchased a new Panasonic GX8, to compliment my older Panasonic FZ1000. Most of the new shots on my instagram are with the new GX8 rig. Along with the body, I’m using a 12-35mm Panasonic F/2.8, a Panasonic 35-100mm F/2.8 and a Panasonic 25mm F/1.7 prime.
Pearson was diagnosed with terminal lymphoma on April 1, 2016. Somehow, we’ve made it through 4 full chemotherapy cycles in ~6 months. It’s been a lot of added stress , financial cost and gross diarrhea, but we finally got some good news yesterday.
“No evidence of residual lymphoma microscopically.”
What a relief. We weren’t sure how we were going to continue his treatment, as he’s actually finished the normal protocol.
He had only reached partial remission on chemotherapy alone, so I think the addition of the lymphoma vaccine might have done the trick. I’m very glad we took the chance on treatment AND that our pet insurance covered everything.
We have no idea how long this will last, but he goes back in a month to check everything out once again. He’s getting a shake shack cheeseburger this weekend for being such a good sport.
I really should listen to the Earth, Wind and Fire song again- it’s got such a great peppy little chorus, and their moves are so damn happy… I have absolutely no idea what words they’re singing other than ‘September’ but based on the upbeat groove of the song, they must be singing the praises that so many others seem to be at this time of year.
I absolutely adore summer. I love the pace, the heat, the permission it grants for kids to be kids, and for adults to slide into playing a bit more easily… Grab a ball, lounge on the grass, take a little bit longer to get to your destination, stay up a little later and sleep in a little longer…. Spend time with family and friends near and far. Listen and slow down. Take it easy. And enjoy.
There are other realities that present some challenges.
Juggling sporadic and pieced-together child care, filling in the gaps while shuffling from one camp to other, and accommodating summer start and end times.
Altered living conditions that compromise some usual comforts in order to allow for time together with those visiting for the summer.
Drying off after a sticky commute in the sweltering heat, and packing a few changes of clothes for those extra clammy days.
Struggling to fit in some sense of discipline and regularity, whether that be in working out, moderating food and booze intake, or ensuring that your kids’ previously respectable behaviour doesn’t completely unravel with the extended lack of routine.
But in spite of those challenges, I cherish the summer mood, and I struggle to not get the fall blues at this time of year.
My school stomache aches have started already. I am not in a classroom. I guess for some you don’t ever completely forget that anxiety, but I am doing my best to not transfer that to my kids who seem generally content to move from one phase to another, at this age anyway. I’m doing the same positive reenforcement to my kids that my Mom did for me for so many years, to get me excited and focusing on the good things that September represented… What made me feel better as a kid still makes be happy, and I enjoyed taking the kids on the ceremonial runner shopping trip (they call them sneakers now- blasphemy,). They also picked out some pretty flashy backpacks. We’ve been talking about their friends, and have chosen fun new lunch snacks together. And are eagerly anticipating the start of fall sports season.
So all of these comforts and routines will be ok. As will the fresh starts, with new teachers, new topics, new friends, new lessons.
Finding peace in the familiar , as well as inspiration in the new possibilities.
I’m going to treat myself to a PSL tomorrow.
Right after I join the spamming parents with adorable pictures of first days.
And I’ll also blast some E,W and F.
We’ve signed on for another year. In the apartment Brett found. That I didn’t see. Before moving here. It’s a corner unit with lots of nice light. On a steerage-like floor that ‘let’s us use the stairs’. We negotiated a lower rent increase and felt good. Until we recalled again how expensive rent really is here.Things are going well for everyone. The kids are making friends and generally really happy. And it just sort of happened that we extended our original contract.
It’s odd to pause and lift your head and look around at what life looks like right now.
We jumped at this opportunity 2 years ago for very obvious reasons.
We were itching for some kind of a change. We didn’t know what that meant, but we could feel that we wanted to change direction. But in which way, for how long, with the intentions of it leading to what? We really didn’t think that far ahead.
An amazingly exciting and different and challenging opportunity had been handed to us, in a salad bar line up, quite literally, and by the point of handing over my $8.00 for my bland and soggy salad, we knew that this was the change that we’d wanted.
Not New York, specifically. Hell, we’d only been here a handful of times, and all well within the expected framework of bewildered and overwhelmed and anxious tourist or business visitor. Most certainly not through the lens of actually setting up camp, establishing routines and living ‘normal’ life here.
And we’ve made it nearly 2 years. Later this month I’ll think back to the blurry last few days in Calgary, and even blurrier, and yet remarkably sharply-imprinted-in-my -memory, first few days in NYC.
Packing up and saying goodbye, and then unpacking and saying hello to our old and new homes.
We entered into this with no expectations of what was ‘next’. But we safely held a foot on our old home, leaving a home for rent and an enormous storage locker full of ‘stuff’… As thoughtfully as we could getting rid of things that ‘the kids would outgrow by the time we returned in 2 years.’
And 2 years have come and gone, and we’re here. For another year for now.
Such a gift, really, to have these options in our lives. And it comes with such responsibility, again, to make the most of it, to take advantage of it for us all, to not f*%# it all up, and to not f*#+ our little babies up in the process of it all.
We are wrapping up this week at work before 2 glorious weeks of holiday time.
It’s tempting to enter into holidays as a chance to really ‘focus’ and ‘figure stuff out’ and ‘make a plan’… Perhaps it’s my own age, or the age of my kids, or just pace of life right now, but I am so happily excited to try to relax and enjoy as much of the holiday moments as I can. I have fewer expectations than I might have previously. I have done the minimum amount of planning. And I’m happily looking forward to this time of resting, reading, playing, lounging, sipping, and snacking. So a few expectations then I suppose…but really, nothing of consequence other than to be.
I was eager to return home today to hear about Crazy Hat Day at camp- . we decided that the day and our amazing representation (f*%#ing remembering at 9pm the night before that we needed to craft something and actually pulling it off with substantial support) called for Mexican out.
Our dinner conversations revealed that Nora had worn a Velcro suit at the Camp Fair today. While wearing her awesome Mother-in-the-clouds-dragon hat. And was tossed to a wall. And we learned that Eli was put into a rolly-polly friendly plastic Zorb ball thing at the park after camp by the babysitter. And they both loved the shit out of it.
And then, as I sipped my margarita, Nora told me how she asked their babysitter whether she would be voting for Hillary or Trump.
Brett has one expectation of our holiday thanks to my second margarita.
What kind of a goalie can’t juggle?
And on and on and on…
It’s nearly summer in New York. Among many things, it now means for us, as parents of school-aged kids, the month of 900 birthdays, as all of us with summer month babies get the brilliant idea to jam a party into the 28 available June days, before 3/4 of New York retreat to the water, away from the swelter and stink of the city….!
So this weekend we have 5 birthday parties. Next weekend 2. The weekend after 1. And the weekend after that, Nora’s own party and another 2.
The social experiment of birthday parties is fascinating, and terrifying, to me.
And navigating it in New York is something I had no idea about.
I’ve experienced a range of parties, from ‘Housewives of New York’ caliber parties that far out numbered the budget of my own wedding, to gatherings at the playground where the balloons from the Duane Reade alone marked the celebration.
I vowed last year to not repeat my mistake from my first New York birthday party, where I thought that ‘doing it myself’ was acceptable. Without the accessibility of dollar stores and cars and a backyard, hosting 17 kids on a pier playing goofy golf in the 90 degree heat with no staff from the golf course was dumb. I didn’t lose a kid, but at least 3 filled the water guns from the goodie bag (BIG taboo) with water from the Hudson and shot it in each other’s mouths, and at least 4 parents turned their noses at the visors I gave them ( it was a GOLF party and that’s effing smart and cute) as they were in a communal box and forsure one of the kids had lice…
So this year. Have I learned?
We’re having a puppy party. With live puppies. In our apartment. With 10 girls.
I will order absolutely all food. I will have wine for parents who linger because of the effing inevitable awkwardness that comes with drop off at parties ( do I stay? Is that weird? Am I a shitty parent if having 2 hours to do stuff alone is cool? Should I try to make new parent friends? Is my kid ok? Where is the wine? Can I have 2 glasses or is that weird too?)
I will splurge this year and get fancy TriBeCa cupcakes. And a lot of balloons.
And I will have crafts and practical goodie bags.
I hope Nora likes it.
I have learned a bit…
Such a sad irony to hope that you can be as at peace and comfortable and happy with the choices you make in life as you can… Before you get too old and it’s not available to you…
So we’ll see.
In the meantime, I am getting my nails done while Nora is at a party at a children’s art gallery. Maybe I’m a jerky parent.
I think she’s happy though- she blew me kisses and yelled ‘I love you, mommy’ across the gallery. And I had 1 glass of rose with the parents so that’s gotta count….!
1 down. 4 to go…
Pearson took his first treatment cycle like a boss. He’s doing well and continues to be his awesomely annoying self (howling, stealing food and counter surfing). I think we should change his breed to “f_ucker spaniel!” 😉
All of his lymph nodes have returned to a normal size except for one that is only slightly enlarged and we have this week off for treatment… he goes back in next Thursday for the second cycle.
We also just found out about a clinical trial for a vaccine that might either double his remission time(to 2+ years) or potentially cure it entirely(slim chance but it’s there). It’s based out of Philly and would be a bit of a drive for 4 shots over 2 months. But I’m seriously thinking about it.
This week marks the end of his original 4-6 week life expectancy prognosis, without treatment.
*UPDATE – June 3rd, 2016: His lymph nodes didn’t shrink at all after the doxrubicin and week off. :/ This means he didn’t reach remission in the first cycle, and this is generally a bad thing for survival projections. But, the nodes shrunk again after vincristine last week, so we proceeded with cytoxan yesterday and will continue the front line CHOP protocol until he stops responding. This complicates things for the vaccine, but we’ll find out soon if he meets the requirements.