So far, March goes well. Nobody was stabbed on the Ides. Saint Patrick's Day occurred. Oh that magical day where we celebrate the fact that Irish Americans maybe had a tough start in the US but then gave us green beer and big parades... Or is it when S. Paddy the Leprechaun sneaks into houses and leaves green jello in the toilets? I can't keep up!
Saint Patrick did not hit our house when it comes to snakes. Thank goodness, because Chaya is a budding herpetologist here. The Muppets on her diapers are "frogs" and I'm pretty sure her first imaginary friend was a "snake" who lives and sleeps and talks to Chaya about lord knows what (fruit maybe? She does like to eat fruit). Everything long and circular is a "snake" in Chaya world and she loves them. Makes sense, given all the snakes in her books are quite happy and delightful. But snakes are admittedly pretty cool. She also digs chameleons and lizards, because they are also pretty cool.
Mostly for St. Paddy's day, we celebrated by wearing a little more green (and orange where possible because we are Protestant), and eating greener food. Pesto on shamrock ravioli totally is Irish, right?
Next weekend will be even more exciting (albeit less chromatically emphatic). On Saturday we go in for Chaya's second haircut. And then... oh and then... Mommy and Daddy are getting out of the way so Chaya can have a full day with Gramma Pam. Chaya loves GP (or PAAAAAM as she still calls her), and often banishes mommy to the kitchen when they're having a playdate. But this will be the first time Pam will get to put Chaya down for a nap. Mommy and daddy, meanwhile, will be going to their first PNB performance in a handful of years. It used to be our thing, so I'm kind of excited.
The next weekend will be Chaya's first observed Passover Pasach. Ohhh yeah. Gramma Lisa and (Not-Grampa) Tom (still working on his official title there!) are visiting. We have a children's Haggadah involving a slightly psychadelic and terrifying spider (Sammy!) celebrating his very first Passover. We'll see how Chaya tolerates it. I think we really need like twenty different illustrated haggadahs to keep up with Chaya's "Mamma READ A BOOK!... DIFFERENT BOOK!" Preferably featuring snakes, bunnies, and dinosaurs. Sammy the Spider is pretty good, but there are some pages with a ton of WORDS per picture.
There will also be an Easter get-together and egg hunt. There will no doubt be cute photos and chocolate bunny goo smeared everywhere!
And of course we'll see how I do with the holiday weekend. The reflux abides (dude does it), but it really does seem to be keeping a bit more under control when I follow the dietary guidelines for LPR. This includes basically cutting out several delightful foods (garlic, onion, chocolate, coffee, tomatoes, and anything with a pH below 5, such as almost all fruits) and spices. Also best to stay upright for 3 hours after eating and I prefer to go to bed fairly early, so Passover will be an interesting stretch for me. Especially after Daylight Savings time. We may have to fudge the sun-down and employ some black out curtains for Chaya's bedtime alone. I'm also realizing that as traditionally made, I can basically have the roast egg, parsley and/or romaine, some whole wheat matza and maybe a banana larabar crushed with water to approximate Charoset. We'll swing it.
Before we get to all that, I have several lightening round specialist appointments to run through. ENT on Tuesday. Orthopedist on Thursday. I'm going to go ahead and make the original appointment I scheduled with Everett Rheumatology before getting the earlier appointment, because I'm still getting rashes/chillblains and a few other symptoms that would make a specialist in Raynaud's in particular useful.
I'll try to refrain from kvetching about all my maladies for the rest of this space, but let's pretend I'm actually being profound instead. It's weird. I really do feel like the weird crap my body is giving me is fine, but I also feel this persistent guilt and incredulity about the ways it limits me. When I go out in slightly chilly weather, I seem to get a bad reaction in my hands that can last for a few weeks. I'm still sensitive to heat. My right arch and back both seem to flare up when I do much of any exercise. And if not that, then the reflux makes most exercise too unpleasant. I have pinched nerves or neuropathy from my upper back into my hands that makes my wrists and fingers feel weak and some moving and lifting uncomfortable. It goes on. And I still don't enjoy or succeed going out late.
So I've slowed down a ton in the last year or two. I have even more dietary restrictions than before, so socializing becomes a little more difficult. The dry eyes and mouth makes all kinds of things more uncomfortable. Travel really zaps me. Etc etc.
And again, as long as I'm in my little cave, I think that's fine and just life, but as soon as somebody suggests we do something "fun"... well I feel like I'm bleeding out all the fun I had in my introvert reserves. I feel bad for Andrew, who has so many things he wants to do, trips to take, adventures to make. He's dealing with his own weird limitations in a slow-healing collarbone (probably low vitamin D). I think that has helped him understand a bit of where I'm coming from, but it's still kind of several degrees of magnitude apart. So, trying to manage that balance.
I am realizing that I"m only 35. I feel like so much of life is behind me, but by even conservative estimates, I'm just shy of halfway through my likely life. I have aches and pains through my body. I don't know what that means but that I"m not "old" and I'm not infirmed exactly. Just limited. And hopefully that I have time to discover ways to work with my body instead of trying to work against it. And hopefully I can still be fun for Chaya somehow.
I was also realizing that Chaya and I will have a very different relationship than I did with my mom. In some ways. I was the second child so my childhood is certainly informed by that dynamic. But beyond that, my mom and I were besties in my world. The divorce was the best thing that happened to my relationship with my dad, as I was mostly ambivalent towards his presence and rules in our house of fun before that. I didn't really care for my grandparents (no offense, but I definitely did not get excited about hanging out with them). I did enjoy preschool when I got there, but I started later. My mom was so full of life and energy, she filled a million roles and stayed one of my closest friends through my life in various ways.
Chaya has a much broader attachment network. She banishes me from the house/room to play with her gramma. She gets upset if I don't take my "treadmill time" or "momma go downstairs" after weekend breakfasts, because that's her time with Daddy.
She digs her other grandparents a ton as well.
She loves preschool and hugs and trusts all the teachers there. It's really cool. I won't say it takes the pressure off of me. But it changes the dynamic. She'll have so many different people to love and trust in a different way than I did. And given my personality, I suspect Chaya and I will have more battles than my mom and I did (almost none). And I bet we're due for a serious Daddy phase soon.
No evaluation there, but just interesting. Again we are never our parents and our children are never ourselves. Perhaps it means that my physical limitations won't be as unfortunate, since Chaya will have plenty of people to have crazy-fun with.
And of course I love the little bugger and I'm so touched that she seems to like me as well as love me. Even when I'm boring. Even when I don't let her climb up and try to balance on my head for the fifth time.
And maybe - a gal can dream - there's some specialist out there who might at least give me a name or a something to take the edge off the bother and add some edge onto the pleasant. But if not, we trod on. Well into April and springing through spring! Break out the claritin, it's time for life to bloom!!
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