Sum-more Summer on the Eve of the Threenado.

Brace yourselves: it's summer! It's hot. It's sunny. It's a month away from official threenagerdom. It's about one week away from Chaya switching preschool days to thrice a week (3 for 3!). And that same week away from starting said three preschool days at 8 a.m. (in the morning! Ack!) That's gonna take some adjustment as her schedule has actually been shifting later over this summer. Whoops. 

For now, we're thigh-deep in a preschool break and all the shenanigans stuffed into that. 

Our preschool break began with a frenetic foray to Tahoe. Andrew's mom has had a ski cabin near Sugarbowl Ski Resort for years, but it's only recently been discovered as a summer cabin worthy of a strapping young child (and boisterous Betty-dog)

. 

It's everything you could possibly imagine a summer cabin being. There's a lake beach (I know, right?? in Tahoe??)

 There's a bunch of trails.

There's a BBQ on the front porch.

 Aaaaand there's a swarm of bloodthirsty bastard mosquitoes!! Some may have left their hearts in San Francisco, but I'm pretty sure I left my blood in Tahoe. Not even some generic mosquito repellent, compression socks and pants kept them from pock-marking my legs into infected itch. 

The highlight of Chaya's trip was probably the plane. 

She was so infatuated with planes that our worst travel moments were waiting on the tarmac to get on the plane. Impatience doesn't cover it. CHAYA GET ON THE PLANE!!! With thrashing and bolting and the like. 

She also enjoyed (with some trepidation) the affections of Betty the dog. 

And perhaps the greatest culinary discovery of the weekend was those ooey gooey sugar kebabs known as toasted marshmellons! Or something like that.

 There were also many moments of Chaya demanding to go back to the house, refusing to go inside the cabin, telling the dog to come and then screaming BETTY NO!!! LEAVE, hurling herself headfirst into a body of bruises from a bed, and otherwise being her vividly youthful self. 

And there was a little bit of recovery required for the whole family on returning. We all might have been a little tired and snappy by Sunday evening, and Monday was "fun."

 Travelling is still pretty brutal on my body, considering I'm hanging by a thread of "not dead yet" in an amorphous fashion with all of my various at-home accommodations. The stint in Tahoe alone was enough to erase a handful of weeks of PT, foment some reflux redux and bend the rules of space and time to rack up a few months' sleep deficit in two days! The plane and car were physically exacting experiences all their own. But we trudge on with happy memories and cute photos (and the number of a very good massage therapist!)

That was a segue? Clever huh? Adella's health! To celebrate not  having that preschool time for myself, I added a whole battery of additional medical tests and appointments to this week! No really, timing just worked out that way. Lucky Chaya got a whole lot of gramma time as a result. 

So as of the moment I can say that mammograms ain't no thing (though I felt a minor twinge of guilt presenting my eensy decolletage to the technician who had to somehow get those babies into the machine). I don't seem to have breast cancer. In fact, joy of joys, breast pain is a negative risk factor for breast cancer usually. I mean I was more concerned that the sensitivity was related to the abscess I had during that nasty bout of mastitis a few years ago, but still nice to hear. I have no idea what the EMG (zapping your body with lots of little shocks to see how the nerves fire, then sticking some muscles with needles for good measure) of my right arm will reveal because I don't get to hear about that until after the MRI of my upper back/neck. That's a complement to the MRI I had some months back of my brain and the MRI I had a different time of my lower back (yay bulging thoracic disc and spinal degeneration in my lumbar region!)

Next week I finally make it to a neurologist to add to my specialist bingo (do two rheumatologists  and two orthopedists count on separate squares?). And probably will get a few more neurodiagnostic tests run on my other extremities. 

Things that have been diagnostically excluded at this time: MS, scleroderma, lupus, sjogren's, mixed connective tissue disease, brain tumors, heart attacks and other cardiovascular diseases (beyond a benign and occasional arrhythmia), most imaginable nutritional deficiencies, most thyroid diseases, and (this week) breast cancer.

A nice list of things not to have! Of course many of those aren't dispositive, but sometimes ya gotta take comfort in the "well if you had that, by now you'd be dead or way worse off" stretch of time with this nonsense. All my fingers: still intact! Still walking! Life is sweet. 

I do seem to have GERD/LPR (reflux, which seems a pretty common affliction), raynaud's with a nice side of chillblains and related eczema, low blood pressure, and a host of musculoskeletal issues that may or may not also be neurological. Oh and probably a vasovagal response that's a bit more acute than most. I probably have TMJ and lord knows about arthritis in other joints. We'll see.

My mother-in-law was commenting how she knew it was time for PT for her shoulder when the pain began to interfere with opening a jar. That just wasn't right. That struck me, I guess because I was thinking "opening a stubborn jar tweaks my wrists through my elbow through my shoulders and neck, which then seems to travel into my jaw and cheek... and somehow I'm sure it' then exacerbates my lower back through my feet and then I have headaches, reduced sensation and pain and... f- all those jars, I'll take things in bags, thanks!" So I'm a little less on the scale of "wow" when I see the PT forms that ask about various ways physical pain interferes with day to day activities. Don't get me wrong, I still can do a ton and I'm grateful for that, but it is a bit of a trade off in that it doesn't come free on my body. I'm still amazed at how well and quickly a pulled ankle healed itself. That's what normal healing is supposed to feel like? Astounding! And glad I'm capable of it.

And well, I've reached enough of an equilibrium that I can do mild walking daily, and several complicated PT exercises with a predictable level of acceptable pain/tingling. It's not without some discomfort (and reflux occasionally), but a tolerable threshold mostly. Especially as long as I have massages regularly. I'm surprised that I actually remain fairly strong and flexible even if I'm wonky as all get out.

We'll see, anyways. In the meantime, I have to find a balance of protecting myself and living life. So we're at least limiting plane trips to once a month! Chaya's gotta be a flower girl. That's just non-negotiable!

And the monster carries on with several bruises and the broadest multichromatic dazzlement of human emotion imaginable!

She's insisted on wearing the same pineapple pajamas all day long for abut a week straight.Our only respite is that if she gets any water or dirt on her clothes she MUST shed them and wear something new, and occasionally she's in such a panic about this that she'll accept other clothes than her pineapple shorts! I also couldn't tell you the last time she took a bath, but she remains surprisingly fresh and clean with the help of baby wipes and a wet comb from time to time. 

This weekend she's getting still more grandparent time, as her Grampa Tom has come to visit! 

So far, we've attended an Arts Festival together and created many many works of fine art that were left fluttering in the wind to dry. Chaya is very zen about her creation. It's about the act in the moment. Once a work is completed, the fruits of her tussles with the Muses may be sent back to the Ether. It was the moment of creation, not the created itself. 

True art, of course, is bobbing in a bouncy castle. And Chaya got herself into a rather large one of those. She liked it ok when the other kids were in there, but far preferred it once the time had expired and all the other kids dutifully heeded the call of the operators and left. Her very own private bouncy house!! Nothing like a special ops extraction mission to give you a little bit of bounce for day. 

It may have been a full morning, judging by the maniacal howling the predated lunch and naptime, but summer's too full to throttle back. 

So we rounded out the evening at a big farm-style gala at a preschool friend's house. Let the 3 year old birthdays heat up!

It was a fantastic affair, and Chaya managed to avoid the highly prominent water theme and stay quite dry.  After a typical Chaya wander into the netherlands of the property, she even occasionally interacted with her preschool friends, largely when one of them gently told Chaya to actually go DOWN the slide after she stopped at the top in order to ponder the meaning of life!

Judging by the twenty minutes of "dinner" in which Chaya ran around howling and refusing to come to the table, the moment of sheer crystalized frustration that led to knocking over blocks into her water and all over herself, and the way she then managed to climb onto my head and make alien noises at bedtime... it might have been on the extreme side of stimulation for the kiddo. 

Today's been a little mellower, though we'll see how my body feels about an afternoon mini-hike on the aptly named Little Mountain. 

And we hike onwards through another week of break towards August and the big birthday wedding bonanzas with maybe a transition from crib to bed thrown in there. 

Eek. Wish us luck and we'll wish you a cool breezy July weekend back. 

June Vroom!

Chaya's third summer! Er fourth! The first one was a dark hot drag (oh oh oh flaming pregnant lady ear: good times). Her first on the outside was kind of a blur. I am pretty sure there were lots of parks and stroller walks and I know there were birthday parties. The second was actually in Mt Vernon. Eek. And now this one. It's got a bit to live up to, but hopefully not in terms of hospital visits or nasty smoky air pollution. Maybe in terms of "exciting" excursions that daddy or mommy could actually manage without physical pain, but daddy's (hopefully) healing rapidly every day. And mommy is double-doing the PT with a vengeance so who knows!

I'm past any attempts to quantify where in the twoness Miss Beastie is. As far as I'm concerned we're now at the place where I can say "she's almost 3" or - if I'm feeling precise - "she's three in August." Simplifies life when you no longer feel like 2.5 is just developmentally different than where she is at two and nine months BUT it's a little awkward kind of breaking it down into fractions or months. Sure, anyone who doesn't have a child under five is happy enough grouping her as "toddler/preschooler" for purposes of  general categories.

 I think for people who don't have children around this age, really they just want enough to know "CHILD probably doesn't speak in eloquent iambic pentameter, doesn't have any sports scholarships, doesn't want to sell me girlscout cookies... and might be sporadically loud, a tiny tempest, and potentially very messy... p.s. might eat boogers or other bodily fluids. Best approach: smile, wear earplugs, and back away slowly."

But I tell ya every month makes a difference!! Except in shoe size. I swear she's had the same boots for over a year now. But in every other way we're growing up every day.

Ok... not like in terms of sleeping in a bed instead of a crib or - gasp - using the potty. Chaya's not in a hurry to grow up in those ways, despite the endless rounds of diaper rashes. She adores the compilation of potty training songs I put together on Youtube. She makes me draw picture of Chaya peeing, pooping, plunging the toilet (long story), and flushing the toilet.

But every time we ask if she just wants to sit on it, she's recently burbled out an enthusiastic NO! before running away. Too bad, since her diaper rash popped an ugly absceess that's required antibiotics, but then again the antibiotics are strawberry milkshake flavored, so that might be a win in Chaya's calculations.

Attendant to the potty-sitting aversion, she seems to have just developed an aversion to the bath. Oh how dolefully and baleful the sob "NO BUBBLES!!" can sound! We're wusses and/or compassionate parents, so we have not thrown her in the bath like a panicked house cat, instead opting for frequent wipe-baths, but it's becoming an issue in terms of her recently developed desire to have long hair. Something's gotta give here! I'm guessing it will just be mommy's cool as we spend hours brushing knots out of a sobbing and filthy little girl's tresses. Hopefully this is all because the diaper rash makes sitting in water painful. Hopefully. She actually did relent and demand a bath today, only breaking into howls of "NO BUBBLES" after a good twenty minutes of pro-bubbles.

And as for giving up the crib, that is probably nearer on the horizon. Chaya can climb out of it if she's not in a sleep sack. The sack does seem to slow her down for the interim. She really just hasn't tried though, so we don't fully know. Seems like she really likes the safety and barrier of a fully ensconced crib. Plus her room is SOOOO not toddler-proofed yet. There are chords. Expensive baby monitor cameras perched precariously atop a shelf that's built like a friggin' ladder! There's a closet that leads to our water heater. We will deal with it all. We will. Really. Soon. Maybe.

But in most other ways, we're back to various jags and jolts of that runaway train to threenagerdom.

We're riding a little wave of self sufficiency and helpfulness at the moment. Chaya is really into making food at the moment, which I love. Nothing as elaborate as actual cooking or baking. Most of my meals are 'take some premixed stuff and combine them, and then nuke or instant pot it all." But some serious mixing of food ingredients is going on at our little chef's station.

I actually tried a different meal service called Gobble that was far more our speed than Sun Basket. Everything was really simple and you just have to chop some veggies, then put things in a pan in a certain sequence. And Chaya could do a bunch of that. She's into tearing up herbs as well though she doesn't like eating them. And I let her "season" our veggies with a shaker full of sumac.

Most of the time she makes oatmeal and eggs. All day long. No matter if she wants to eat them. It's deadly serious artisanal level oatmeal and eggs (ok I pop them in the microwave to finish but the oatmeal involves bananas, chia, raisins, blueberries, squash, wheat bran, and some whole hearted mixing). I've starting just reducing the portions to minute amounts and then combining all of her days' efforts into a single bowl of tomorrow's breakfast. She does usually eat the eggs she makes.

I've also had some good luck inviting her to help us clean up after meals.

I've had a fair bit of luck in a variety of places, really. For an almost-three year old.With sweeping (waiving the broom around wildly, knocking some things off the table and then throwing the dust pan in the trash quite proudly). With putting away laundry (gleefully running to her room with a stack of clothes/my-bras/underwear/towels and stuffing them all in any available drawer).


 With wiping (markering the table...

...demanding I spray it with water, brushing the ink into a modern masterpiece, demanding a paper towel to wipe, markering her hand, demanding that be sprayed...

 ...dripping ink everywhere and then smooshing it all around...

 ...eventually demanding a wipe).


 With putting cutlery on the table (running around with a big handful of them and then eventually plonking them on the table). With putting cutlery in the dishwasher (actually not bad at that one).

I am skeptical that I've hacked anything or that this interest will last, but as long as it does, I'll be cultivating it. It's a big enough mess in here anyways that a little extra chaos from Chaya branded cleaning is a drop in the toddler-chaos bucket.

I like to think that Chaya is not alone in "growing up" though I suppose at a certain point it's far easier to just "get old" (me? I never get old!). I like to think all the vocabulary and verbal alacrity shed by Chay's truly made space for wisdom and insight, but I'll take "capable of forming basic sentences and able to continue dressing oneself."

I did have a brief flash of something akin to a positive insight while reading C.S. Lewis' The Great Divorce. Which necessitates a little plot summary (SPOILER ALERT: it was all a dream... but true... but metaphor because nobody can really see eternal truth fully or know what lays before us). The narrator takes a bus from a gray town that is hell to the an exquisite eternal place where it is almost daytime. He and those who travel with him are but shades in the brilliance of this transitional place. Too insubstantial to even walk on the grass without pain or pick up the lightest leaf. They're each met by a guide from the eternal place - some earthly connection who is now radiant and joyful beings of light. They basically are there to help the shades walk and traverse towards the truth. The truth is painful, physically. All struggle and most of the shades refuse to take the journey because they are so bound by some aspect of their humanity. Whether it be a conceit of their artistry, a fear of being seen naked, a need to control, even the angry love of a mother  who cannot let go of the love that has consumed her Only one other character definitively transforms by finally allowing his guide to kill the animal on his shoulder. The death of the animal (which was the voice of his lust) was excruciating to the shade, but the dead lizard arises from death as a giant horse and the shade becomes substantial and rides furhter towards the truth. The conclusion being that all parts of ourselves will be redeemed but only after we allow them to die.

I've been ruminating on this. Even the highest most beautiful particular of a person is neutral intrinsically. If it leads us to the unity of all, then it is good. If it isolates us from that, then it becomes evil. My loves. My highest and noblest sentiments can lead me away from true happiness. And any part of self or ego can become habit and can consume the self.

I think of all the parts of myself that I've "lost" - the different versions of self I have become. And I remember my dad or others asking in a somewhat sad tone "don't you miss dancing/working/ writing?" I think of all the points of pride and joy that I no longer can lay claim to. And I've never been as sad about those not being a part of my life as I suspect makes sense. But there is always still a yearning. I think those things were ways to experience that divine something-beyond, but they themselves were not that thing. And it reminds me that all of what we are will come and go and we remain ourselves. Of course it makes me also ruminate on what does anchor and consume me from that more transcendent truth. Sure there could be doubt, pride... but I'm gonna go with Ice Breakers Bubblegum.

Wherever we can't self-improve, we can attempt some light home improvements. A month or two ago we went on a lark of a trip to a window treatment showroom to talk about better window treatments for our wonderfully expansive and assymetrical big windows. They have this feature in which they let all the light and heat in without letting much back out when it's warm. And sucking all the heat out when it's cold. I'm told black out curtains would help. And our shades are looking a shade seedy after all of Chaya's acrobatics. So we had plans. The estimate was a mite bit out of our price range (oh just double), so we asked some follow up questions and... never heard back.

In the meantime, we had our landscapers plant severa lovely new trees. They are growing beautifully, but nowhere near as voraciously as the weeds devouring our porch. So, perhaps more landscaping is in the future.

But Chaya's second-year apple tree is flowering and flourishing! I think this says all the most promising and lovely things about our future time here.

And in the meantime, we'll celebrate our PNW June by breaking out the sunscreen for midday and the gloves and heaters for the evening and take our sun breaks before the pending summer heatwaves!

Summer Ascending and the Medical Mayhem Quickie (yeah right) update

May we Wright ourselves right into June?

 We may at that. Summer is clamoring at the door, with the giant Ski to Sea kick off coming up this weekend.

Andrew will not be cycling this year, but he's still captaining a team and providing full mascotry for Team Dadbod yet again.

After that, well, it's June. Bring it on! Trips. Preschool reshuffling (up to 3 days a week and starting at 8 a.m. ack!) Family visits. Birthday parties.


In the meantime, Chaya's best friend (I think - honestly now that she's at preschool, her social life is far more her own business and less mine, but they are always so happy to see each other) Sebastian is off to Mexico for the summer.

 They plan to eventually move there, but this is "just" a four month visit this time. Claudia is probably doing it wrong by leaving during the warmest part of the year and returning once it gets nice and wet and cold. But she has citizenship hoops to jump through in fall.

This isn't the only original baby play date Exodus: her buddy Alex (and as importantly our family friends Jen and Joe... and their daughter Olivia too) will be moving to Virginia Beach in summer. It's a good thing for them: Joe is getting a job with tenure.** You can't really find fault with that. But it's definitely the end of an era.


** edit, everything I said about Joe and Jen's future contains middling accuracy, but rest assured they are moving somewhere better for a better job.

2nd year birthday bashes!

I guess you could say we had a final hoorah picnic in the Park with all the kids the other day, but we can at least hope it isn't the final-final. There will be trips and visits somehow. We'll coordinate. We shall.

. In most ways, Chaya doesn't seem particularly aware of gender in many regards. She swaps gender pronouns regularly and occasionally announces Daddy or Mommy have anatomical features of the opposite biological sex. But she has reently discovered dresses. She's had dresses before, but never been particularly interested in them. Recently, she demands DRESS every other day or so. She now has plenty, and of course is persnickety and particular about which ones she wants in a given day. Today she demanded her tiger dress instead of pajamas. She's also discovered pigtails. My doing. My hair is an annoying in between length so I've been pulling it out of my face with pigtails. Chaya was fascinated and then wanted her own. She holds them like little horns and insists on wearing them to bed.

So, we might not get away with pixie-cuts for much longer. Which is unfortunate because it's still impossible to groom the little dervish and she still likes rubbing food and snot in her hair. We'll figure it out. Messy pretty monster chic?

And...

It's been a while since we checked in on the Adella-"health" updates.I'm still not dead yet, but I'm awfully crumbly.

The reflux abides. It got a little better when I changed to a lower dose birth control from straight out HRT, but worse again after I got one of my daughter's baby plagues. Per my ENT's order, I also had a "barium swallow" test (very fun and the first fizzy drink that I've been able to have in a while... yeah it tasted like chalk, but the burping feeling was amazing). They're a full on medical kiddie-ride: you drink something thick and fizzy, and then get X-rayed as the liquid (and your tilt table) goes down.

Me, during the test: glug glug WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE BURP

 Amusing, but it didn't find any mechanical issues.

My new GI refreshingly supported my hesitancy to take PPIs (e.g. prilosec, nexium, etc). She told me to continue my restricted low-aid diet (I miss you, Mexican food and Indian food), to take zantac, and that we'd do an endoscopy to see what's going on.

Unfortunately my insurance company is less supportive. In order for them to pay for an endoscopy, I need to have taken PPIs for at least 3 months. Meaning, I have to start taking something immediately and call again in three months, then wait another month or two (from what I understand of the scheduling calendar). And that's for a test that may or may not reveal much. 

I'm told the really definitive test is another one that you only qualify for after the endoscopy. But oh well. Break out the prilosec or whatever and more vitamin supplements for my pill container!

Meanwhile, my back two left molars have been turned into mush over the last 6 months. My dentist was quite concerned but felt reassured that I was getting medical help for the reflux. So more dental work of course and a prescription toothpaste! Disconcerting, but a time to be glad I have good dental and health insurance I suppose.

I've also been seeing a massage therapist once a week and that is amazing. She is a very intense person with a dedication to figuring out WTF is going on with me. And she's one of very few health practitioners who an really look at my whole body. She's working on my arms, pectorals, back and... well I'm icing a lot. The sheer volume weird areas that are nothing but nasty knots is impressive. My sheer knottiness and general physical wonk concerns her deeply and she will never sleep again until I am slightly more functional. This is refreshing in a world of pleasant shrugging doctors. 

Meanwhile, my orthopedist saw a bad looking disc and an atypical level of arthritis in my spine. He didn't explain much and instead wanted to send me for a steroid injection. I decided I wanted to slow it down and find out more first, since my whole body seems to be feeling effects (wrists, spasms in my legs, occasional lost sensation). I'm going to quiz him more thoroughly at an upcoming appointment.

Because why not, I also consulted with a chiropractor who turned out to be out of network on my insurance coverage.

 Whoops. That's $500 I'm never gonna see again. 

 She recommended three weekly adjustments for the conceivable future to address an ill-aligned lumbar vertebrae (pesky number 5 is VERY off). It was not highly inspiring that their lending library was almost entirely full of books about the evils of vaccines; nor was I thrilled to see they had some kind of note about how since they followed all these alternative wellness practices, they had great immune systems, so come on in to their clinic even if you're sick.

 More off-putting was the potential cost of an out of network series of adjustments. I"m not averse to finding a chiropractor in my network if that's safe, but I cannot pay out of pocket for that. We've already eaten up our HSA savings this year.

I am guessing my next steps are finding out more from the ortho about whom to consult for my legs and wrists/arms. If I can get a greater sense of all the moving (clunkily moving if not so happily) parts, I think I could have a more fruitful PT relationship. Part of the problem with PT before was that I was inevitably stymied from doing at least several of the exercises by other injuries or the reflux.

Lord know. And maybe a different orthopedic specialist or sports medicine/rehab professional will add something to the mix. Or maybe the neurologist will have input. Who knows!

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE 

BURRRRRP

As doth the acid reflux, so doth I abide. With a little bit of highly capitalizable guilt-self-resentment or something about my current invisible illnessish existence. I feel so bad that I can't do all the crazy fun things Chaya keeps demanding I do that i even feel bad about not being able to do things I wouldn't have even done anyways.

I won't call my husband the kind of theory of mind psychological manipulation, but he's inadvertently (or not? Who can say with a savant?) nailed it a few times. Which is to say, I'm in a certain headspace right now where peopel can inadvertently headtrip the heck out of me. 

To wit, Andrew's mom is planning a fantasy trek to Japan to hike all around some amazing trails with her and her companions. He really wants to go.

 He could have said "hey, darling, I'd like to leave you and our darling daughter for about 10 days while I use up the majority of my remaining vacation days, and 99% of my planning and attention bandwidth go off on a hiking trip in Japan." He could have. I woulda probably shrugged and said "sure, knock yourself out," with a minor sigh, because what am i gonna use that vacation time for at this point anyways. 

Instead he said "There's this trip in Japanthat  my mom's been planning. Would you be interested in going?" 

Knowing that  he's even said with no prompting from me that hiking with Chaya.

  Knowing that he's unpromptedly concluded that ten plus hour flights are really not doable with our three year old.

  Knowing at least theoretically that nobody is able to watch our toddler for 10+ days in a row even if we hadn't already agreed that the five night trip we took last year was "a little much for her." 

Knowing - I assume - that I have been having issues with my legs spasming and going numb after walking more than a few minutes at a time.

  Knowing I have been dealing with reflux that makes it super hard to feed myself even at home.

  Knowing I have really bad back pain that gets worse with sitting (like on several hour flights).

Knowing all that and just going for it anyways.

And thus putting me and or allowed me to put myself in a position where I bent all over myself explaining how this wasn't the right time, that I hoped we could xyz in a few years, and how I'd really like to do a smaller trip with just us... feeling increasingly more guilty and awful that I was - ONCE AGAIN - the wet blanket and the buzzkill... 

Until I was just relieved that he said "I figured. Well, I'd like to go."

Simultaneously letting me off the hook, leaving with with some major residual buzzkill guilt and not even directly asking if I would willingly watch our daughter alone for that many days and/or sacrifice our (yes, OUR) vacation time. 

All leaving me still vaguely guilty that he will not see his daughter for two weeks AND is nearly out of vacation time to the point that he doesn't have any extra to spare on that other-summer trip to Tahoe with his mom or the Chicago trip to his cousin's wedding where we'll be travelling on my birthday. All because I'm lame. Somehow.

Masterful.

No I don't have time to see a shrink on top of all my other dental and medical appointments, why do you ask??

At any rate, we're all in as many pieces as is practical and buckling our seatbelts for our second Mount Vernon Summer. Start your engines (and plug in that darned air conditioner hose already!!!)

April Showers on your Wedding/Moving/Surgery Day

April! Andrew and I recently celebrated a handful of anniversaries. Our first year in the new house and town.. Five years married. Six years since that fateful April Fool's engagement. Five years of Andrew's engineering employment with old EI-EI-OOOOOOOOH-Nelly!

It rained on our wedding day. And oh - vernal varieties of pluvial pulchritude - it's raining a lot these days too. Guessing there's some kind of heavy handed moral mummery about how new life must spring from the dreariest dampness in there.

But let's start with the flowers. Because they're flowering in all their allergenic glory. Even Chaya's apple tree has survived that hot and dry summer and cold winter. It's looking quite verdant already.

Our little flower herself continues to spew brilliance (only 50% snot and phlegm-based). The youngest Wright is clearly no longer a piddling two and a half.

 No no, she may not be three yet, but I am not quite there for reporting age in six month increments. She's got such a depth of complex syntatical structures, wicked ideas, numeric understandings, emotional nuance, and coordination that blows away her February self. As predicted, her time in preschool has attended a major mental, social and physical spurt. Kid is most definitely coming up on the exciting TWO AND THREE QUARTERS. But right now, more like "2.7" We leave to you to decide if that's base 12 or base 10 (Andrew joke).

We're still on a schedule of twice weekly preschool with a little music class mixed in there. This summer, we'll escalate to thrice. Because, well, she likes it a lot. Itty bitty Art School suits her.

We're going through an appropriately artistic phase with an obsession over markers, coloring, and drawing. She's made quick magnificence of her first coloring book. And mommy and daddy have both been drawn into (har har) the chromatic Fauvism. Our meals now involve several pads of paper and the three of us all scribbling away in our own separate spheres.

Can I just say that washable markers may be the best invention ever imagined? Chaya also rather enjoys markering the table, demanding I spray water on the drawing, and then wiping it up with a wipe. This alone is an art project. And the marker actually completely comes off. Yes, daddy and mommy have also started coloring straight on our brilliantly cleanable Ikea table. Not so much on our faces in the same exuberant way that Chaya likes to. Maybe in time.

The elder Wrights continue to crumble but in a loving way.

After a seven month stall in healing, Andrew has finally been cleared for plating. This means he'll be a little more Wolverine and a little less lamed (fingers crossed). Basically things are just not knitting together right in his collarbone, so they're going to put a little mechanical wizardry in there to start the healing process all over, but much faster. He'll be going in sometime on May 3rd (exact time to be determined in cable serviceman style with a last minute informative phone call just to muck up childcare and the like). Then probably some time in a sling and maybe another month or two of healing. He gets to keep using his tantilizingly-named "bone stimulator" in the meantime and take the wretchedly-redolent Vitamin D drops in the interim.

Not to be outdone, I've got my usual rotating health oddities. My hands are currently de-chillblained and largely look like hands again. My reflux issues come and go but are currently a little mellower on a very observant diet. I had the ever exciting "barium swallow" test, in which I swallowed radioactive soda and got pictures of my insides taken. They were beautiful, but revealed no abnormalities. So that's goodish news. And I've currently received a prescription for a lower dose birth control pill after a "fun" tour through actual hormone replacement, which left me with the full scale progesterone miseries.

So I go back to some prior issues: back, arch, and neuropathy. I have no idea where one thing begins and another end but it adds up to "not super able to move/sleep/exist without some kind of serious stiffness and discomfort." I used to think numbness/tingling in my hands and feet was just part of the Raynaud's, but I guess not exactly. I've always have hands and feet that are prone to falling asleep faster and occasionally get said neuropathy. There's also tingling that seems to come from my lower back and down my leg. There's tingling that seems to come from my injured arch and the tarsal/tibial area around it. And there's an increasing bit of weakness and muscle spasm in a very tight leg that doesn't thrill me. I've got knots in my calves instead of muscle these days and it hurts much worse after walking. And I get some seriously reduced sensation in my right leg and foot right now.

The tingles touch my fingers, with some reduced sensation sometimes and some weakness that may just be texter's thumb.  I've been waiting much of the year for a neurology appointment that will not come until July. In the meantime, I am limping along conjuring up slivers of body for other specialists to look at. A podiatrist is arranging for custom orthotics to help the pronation and arch issues. It's quite possible that the old running injury is turning into tarsal tunnel syndrome. It's also possible that whatever compressed disc in my lumbar region is causing sciatica, so I'm seeing an orthopedist and have had an MRI done. My doctor finally sent a referral for a electrodiagnostic test through the orthopedics in the interim. Lord for all I know the twitching ain't fasticulations as much as the first stages of ALS. Wheee. Who knows. Or maybe it's all in my head and i'm taking psychosomatic to special new levels. But enough about my medical mystery mayhem... for now.  I'm out of shape, but still alive so far and awaiting new and exciting testing to hopefully tell me if there's a progression I'm due for or maybe even some kind of treatment. In the meantime, I'm happy for whatever energy I have.

It's cute that whenever I say Chaya goes to preschool she says "mamma go to doctor." But you know, I like to sometimes mix it up. Sometimes Mamma go to church. Or I try. I attempted going to the 8 a.m. "service" at the church I attended on Easter. This because it fit  better with our current schedule. But turns out that it kind of lacks anything I'd connect with church other than being in a church. That is, it was five women who read the Book of Common Prayer together for a half hour. No music. No sermon. No standing or sitting even. So back to the drawing board/Ikea table. We've talked about maybe I go to the actual church service and let Andrew know if their coffee hour is sufficiently full of "little treats" to justify dropping in to say hello to coffee hour.

And while I have that old present of the present, I'm trying to learn to be present in those present moments.

I always go back and forth with my internet addictions. I think there's a fair deal of histrionics over our usage of electronics, but I have noticed that I am much terser with Chaya when using my smartphone. I know there's research supporting that parents tend to have harsher interactions with children when their using their phones. I always question cause and effect, but I do think that a pattern I notice is that Chaya will momentarily be off doing her own thing. I'll then let my thumbs wander to the lockscreen of the ol' pixel. And of course just when I'm in the middle of a long diatribe against somebody else's strange political developmental theological dietary theory... MAMMA! And if I close the phone I'll lose everything. If I keep writing Chaya will get more and more rabid. And it gets high pressure. It gets intense. Crazy 2.75 year olds are prone to doing risky things when unattended. And that's just arguing. What if I've actually wandered into a conversation with somebody I liked?

So I'm trying a little bit more just to take minimal steps to limit my wandering texters.

It's actually quite amazing how easily the temptation can be mitigated just by obstructing habit. I turned off all my notifications, as well as turning the sound off on my phone. So if i look at the phone face, there's nothing there. Blank and boring. There's a lockscreen and an empty home page. I've also started carrying the phone in my bag instead of my pocket. And I've started leaving it on the charger in the kitchen when we're home.

To make this more doable, I've been carrying at least one pen everywhere because I'm one of those people who needs to take notes constantly. But that seems to work pretty well. The issue of the camera is still tough, since I need to constantly photograph my child's every moment. Sometimes I wish I still had a standalone camera, but at least when the notifications are off, I don't get horribly distracted.

I'm still constantly hovering over the computer, but at least it's usually locked with a screensaver that Chaya likes (pictures of herself).


And so we stumble on with our slings, our surgeries and our rainy days. Fortunately little Miss Thing has a rain suit and boots. And the rest of us will just spray ourselves down with mildew killer and wait for the sunshine (and all those fun allergens!) with a fist full of tylenol and claritin!

Paschal Pesach Party Weekend.

Happy Easter/Passover/April Fool's Day/Wright Engagaversary!

Big day to fill some big horsie rainboots over here.

What a weekend. It's been a mix of fast action and something a little different. In many ways, the time I spent with infant Chaya, and when I was pregnant, I felt intimately connected with the divine and selfless. 

It's only now that we emerge as separate individuals that I turn back to my own connection to _____ (insert something that doesn't sound prosaic and banal in attempting to capture something spiritua)l. Oh boy are we separate entitiies, as Miss Healthy-Attachment's new favorite game of "No MOMMA!!!" explodes into inconvenient timing galore.

For Lent, I decided to mix in a little mindfulness with my phone use (as usual). I also began engaging in something akin to contemplative prayer. I read a small passage from the Episcopal Services reader, then sat for about ten minutes listening to Palestrina's Sicut Cervus and a few others. I know silence is more apropos, but the music has always had a certain way of guiding me into and beyond myself. It's been sometimes challenging even to slice out that time, but valuable. And it's continued a path home that perhaps I'd begun some time ago. This simmered well into the culmination of Lent and all the depth of thought and passion involved.

This weekend was certainly a melee of colliding (and complementing) holidays colliding. As seems to be the case for several years before and to come Easter and Passover coincide. I love this in some aspects. It is also exhausting!

Chaya's Gramma Lisa and Tom came out for the weekend to celebrate Passover. And so forget Chrismahaunnakwanza. This was our Peachy Pascal Pesach Party Weekend.

The Pesach was rather appropriate for a holiday celebrating leaving in flight. If we don't have time to leaven the bread, then are we really going to actually come up with candles and matches and anything anyone needs at all?? There were some missed communications. I swear, I started with the best organization. I really did start making an inventory of our kitchen to supplement appropriately, but wires crossed. Not thinking the kitchen was going to be used, and then everyone thinking everyone else was making food and... naturally we ended up with the entire Seder meal being cooked in a kitchen that was particularly filthy, chaotic (especially since the whirlwind cleaning may have involved shoving several things into several drawers to free up space for impending ingredients). Naturally we had very little that was needed.

And in the perfect messiness of said improvisation we managed to pull something together quite perfect for toddling Chaya and her friends Sebastian and Cedrick.

Chaya guzzled enough grapejuice to give herself GI distress for a couple of days, but made up for that by eating almost entirely matzo bread. Cedrick proved to be the most adventurous eater of the kiddos, tasting a bit of everying. We sang and stumbled our way through Sammy the Spider's First Passover, the Haggadah that I thought perhaps was not going to be adult-approved after we reviewed several addition grown-up Haggadah the day before. Bitter herb and horseradish were consumed. And Affikomen was discovered with only a little - a lot - of adult help.

The weekend continued as full clip with a few meals out at glacially cuncatory restaurants (picked by the Wrights of course, but at least COA was delicious) and some excited tours of all the Non-Fred-Meyer places one might purchase foods, as some people apparently are nonplussed at shopping in a grocery store that also sells clothes, autoparts and hunting gear.

We made it out of the weekend with a new cast iron dutch oven and a grill. And the salmon from a local fish market made it into everyone's bellies. Chaya also led several excursions through the grass and otherwise delighted her doting grandparents (who likewise delighted her).

On Saturday, we also attended Chaya's third egg hunt of the season at Claudia's house. This time things clicked with the imp and she rounded up bags full of eggs. Claudia, being a very good witch, conjured up some beautiful weather, so all the children and families lolled on the grass in their yard afterwards.

Things capped off with a christening of the new grill and a slightly late and only moderately manic evening with the toddler.

Kiddo was scurried to bed in between some manic meltdowns, as she said goodbye t    o her visitors and mommy and daddy cleaned and appropriately recluttered the kitchen.

Of course, we began the morning an Easter morning with a "basket" (ok, a strainer because it was the right size) to share with Daddy.

Needless to say breakfast was chocolate (other food thrown on the floor in disdain as Chaya demanded more CHICKEN EGG, which apparently meant easter eggs). I didn't even put that much candy in her bag, but that was all she'd eat regardless

She did enjoy her Easter bonnet though!

We perhaps were all feeling a little holiday burnout by this morning, but I'm happy that I decided to go ahead and try out the church service at the St. Paul's down the road. In all the hubub, I was struggling to have the contemplative time that usually attends Easter weekend.

The "Holy Week" (the stretch between Palm Sunday and Easter) is a complex cornucopia of mystical and familiar for children. I remember it well. The smooth texture of the palms across my lips, the tenderness and intimacy of foot washing, the solemnity of last communion,  the pain of the cross mixed with a dizzying understanding of the Agape of self-sacrifice, the gravid state of loss and hope, and the eerie joy of rebirth. Tied to Christian theology, it is powerful. Even from a purely secular state, the messages are powerful, but I am not purely secular.

It's the music, ritual, and community I've experienced since before I had the words to philosophize. It's hard to walk into a service and find myself unmoved. Each subsequent manifestation connects me through the ages to those times past. Yes, I can find myself a blubbery teary mess in any opera, ballet, or symphony because of a beauty of human experience too expansive to be described, and because of the childhood familiarity that draws me through time to my earliest memories. Church has a similar blend of spiritual transcendence with earthly roots for me.

 I needed the familiar service today. Church here is quite different than the St. Paul's my dad attends. Church was quite small and the congregation only hinted at filling it halfway. There is no children's program. Instead, there's a place in the back for children to play. There is no choir. There is a beautiful organ and a few talented pianists and organists.

But the vibe is all so familiar.

As I come  back to my own sense of the divine. I'm beginning to grasp the complexity of being an "interfaith couple." For quite some time I've considered myself spiritually fluid, believing that all religions are merely slivered glimpses of the divine. Before Chaya was born, I pretty well said that what mattered to me was finding a spiritual community. Jewish, Muslm, Buddhist, Unitarian... all would fill me with different expressions of that epiphanic spiritual joy. Granted, I still snuck out and attended services on my own time with my dad or alone... I see now how powerful that familiarity of the experienced rites are for me.

I don't want to force my faith on anyone, but (1) I want to find a way to share it, and (2) it is lonely not sharing it. Andrew's faith is his own to figure out, but his very strong roots and identity are based on Judaism. That is beautiful, and there is a lot of commonality between our upbringings in those regards. But for him it is very specific to the story of his family and their ancestor's experience. And, as perhaps is expected, there's an almost implicit hesitancy at expressions of a religion that has largely been used to oppress his own. I realize I've emphasized the secular aspects of the Christian traditions for some time because these feel less threatening. And that I want to find ways to celebrate my traditions in an open and non-doctrinal way with my kiddo. As much as I want him to continue to tell her the story of her Jewish family and their roots.

It can be especially challenging when religions and their holidays won't take turns!! I'm sure there are many more years to sort it out, but I'm glad to find a place that may be my spiritual roost for a while.

And, now that we've been gifted matches, we won't have to attempt to burn the house down trying to light candles on the electric stove burner... so perhaps a little Advent reading and wreath may be in order next year.

The end of the service heralded something our whole family can get behind though: brunch potluck with Easter ham for the big meat eater. Andrew and Chaya met us at the service and we brunched with another few families who were first time attendees, including one of Chaya's preschoolmates.

It was grounding, but definitely the easter grass that broke the bunnie's back for my little toddler, judging by the fifty meltdowns she's had leading into naptime today.

It's been an amazing weekend, but we may be about ready for a spell of perfunctory days. Or outright boring, since Preschool is on break this week. Ah well, at least mommy has to head out for a barium swallow tomorrow during naptime. I'm sure that will be exciting!

Until then, enjoy the smears of chocolate bunnies and extra hugs to you and your families.

What I did on my Babeless Staycation... The Self-Indulgent Dr Google Edition.

Bye bye Blue Bear

The house is deafeningly quiet, and the mess is strangely sessile. Dross just languishes there dolefully. Never shifting. Never scuttering across the room, or into the trash, or out the door. Just glowering at me as it punctuates the stillness and absence haunting my little domicile. 

Yes, I'm having my very own Home Alone moment this weekend. 


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Except instead of being left behind in my bed (is that how it played out? I haven't seen the movie in years), I seem to have gone all the way down to the airport with the rest of my family. And then to have driven home. Husband blindsided me by very rationally choosing curbside check-in when we arrived at the airport. I had this whole mental image of drifting through the airport. Waiting in line with my family as bags are checked. Bowing kisses and waiving to them in the security line. And sipping a cup of tea at the terminal while waiting for news the flight had taken off. As I moved the stroller onto the sidewalk in preparation for some kind of goodbye, he looked concerned and barked something about not abandoning his car... But but but car versus mommy!! I did manage to kiss them goodbye, get into his fancy car and drive it back home with only an occasional sob. 

First, preschool (incidentally going so well, we're planning to increase her days to twice a week!). Now weekends in Tahoe. Soon, Chayas going to be moving to Albania to study circus craft. She does like elephants. 

I managed to drive home. I had a little snack (Papaya and almond butter for the win). Now I'm walking on the treadmilly trying not to immediately gather my leaf blower and fight back the disembodied clutter. 

And thus time for a plebian personal update mixed with a peppering of whinging and a whee bit of merriment (so we hope). 

So, I left off with a season finale cliffhanger there. Not eczema!

 Raynaud's! Somehow! We're not sure! Plot twist. DUN DUN DUUUUUN. I wouldn't say we're quite at the Season Premiere here, but there's the inevitable drift through the off season. 

I have a rheumatology appointment on the 21st. February 21st. This is actually extraordinary. As I have spluttered before, I highly recommend demanding referrals to any and every conceivable specialist immediately. Even if you cannot possibly conceive of a reason you may need to see this person, just get the referral.

 By the time they can actually see you (roughly two years from now give or take) you may in fact need them. And if not, well... you can cancel and reschedule for another two years out, I'm sure. 


Rheumatology wasn't SO bad for that. It's been about 3 weeks since the Dermatology appointment. Most clinics only had spots available at the end of March. This "early" appointment is due to a combined effort of my doctor juicing up the urgency in her post-referral questionaire and to a cancellation by a prior patient. It turns out to conveniently occur exactly during Chaya's preschool time. Life is amazing sometimes. I don't expect ot have a ton of answers, but there are some things I specifically know to ask about and to expect now. And I think it will be helpful. 

In the interim, hormones have entered the body, folks. I'm pretty sure, anyways. I no longer need to strip down to a bikini and ice my ears when a house is above 65 degrees. And I sometimes even manage to sleep underneath the sheets all night long! In fact, I'm often even kind of cold. Which is good and bad. It makes it less painful to keep my hands warm. It does seem to also make my hands slightly more prone to pruning. I haven't completely stopped having warm ears or flushing, but they are less severe and way less frequent. I can actually walk on the treadmill in the basement without feeling nauseous. 

There are side effects. My ankles are a little swollen. I had a few days of headaches. There is cramping from time to time. Hard to finger causality precisely, but at three weeks in, I've developed some pretty vigilant reflux. Not straight heartburn, but the fullness, difficulty swallowing, and sore throat that's even more fun. Yes I'm taking antacids, eating small meals, avoiding traditional triggers (though man my usual diet is one big globule of triggers, gently exercising, and not eating before bed. . 
I'm currently sleeping with (1) a wedge pillow, (2) another couple underneath that, and (3) a boppy pillow to help me sleep a little more on my left side despite a pulled pectoral muscle.  So yes, I know the usual tricks. There is so much contradictory stuff about managing reflux, but right now I'm enjoying a diet of papaya and herbed tofu and trying desperately to identify triggers without plunging into any particular potential triggers. 

And then there are my hands. They still look awful up close, but they are admittedly a lot better. I have been keeping them a little more even keeled with a mix of hand/foot warming pads, mittens, gloves, and warm water (finally). I randomly wave my arms around in windmills (helps bloodflow). And tuck them constantly between my armpits. I wear gloves to open the fridge and pre-heat vegetables in the microwave before cutting them. It mostly works. 

The burning and swelling is significantly better. And they occasionally hit a normal color. The blisters seem to largely be receding, though I think a few coldblains form here and there. This morning I put handwarmers in my mittens and think I got a little burn on my pointer finger. It goes on. They still go between white and freezing and red and burning, but it's a different kind of burning. More of an internal throbbing. I can (again) actually gently treadmill without them totally blazing up. They get warm and irritable but nothing like before. This is miraculous. 

Of course, the reflux now makes me ever less inclined to do any true cardio, so it's long uphill walking in the basement for me. I did get a run in between hand blight and reflux. It felt good. 

But as I said, they still look ravaged. I can't really tell if they are just so totalled from an untreated winter of misery or if there's actual skin changes from something more underlying. 


Which leads to my current mental game. The What's Wrong With Adella Pool!

In my odd balance between hypochondria and self-negligence, have a few other odd symptoms that I never really think much about, but actually are pretty prominent: (1) really dry mouth. This is probably part of why I drink so much water and chew so much - I thought it was a side effect of taking antihistamines, but I haven't taken any in a long time now and my mouth is really dry. This may also be contributing to the reflux incidnetally. (2) Dry eyes. There's a family history of this and I had LASIK, but it's getting more noticeable). (3) Occasional tingling in hands and feet, which may well be muscular and my PT is giving my plenty of stretches. It may also be Raynaud's related, since that's a common complaint. (4) Dry splotchy skin. With red all over my face that's also pretty par for the Irish family flushing course...

Why wait for a professional to flub my diagnosis when there are support groups AND google? 

I am my own episode of House, M.D. Remember it's not Lupus. It can't be. Thanks for playing. Amusingly, it actually could be Celiac, though it isn't a perfect fit.

Not really, but I do have these migrating working theories. Biggest odds are on: 

1. Scleroderma

Basically a condition involved with overproduction of collagen/scarring in place of healthy tissue. It usually manifests on the skin, hence the name. But it doesn't always have skin manifestations. Depending on the kind, it can be pretty local or it can hijack an entire body. A bit of a grab bag but it explains a disturbingly complete scan of symptoms. Limited scleroderma (once called CREST, because it is so minty clean) is diagnosed by presence of 3 of 5 symptoms: Raynaud's, skin tightening/puffiness/shinines, reflux, spider veins, calcinosis. I've got Ray's, have reflux. and my hands are weird AF these days. Calcinosis, not so much, but there we go.

It also can some sometimes lead to dry mouth and eyes and skin, though it isn't the most common symptom.

The systemic version is very scary but every diagnosis varies considerably.

Doubt on this bet: I tested negative on my autoimmune antibodies test and my sed rate (inflammation marker) was normal. And there are plenty of symptoms I don't have. That said, it should be mentioned that the autoimmune antibodies that my doctor did run has a 40% false negative incidence, not to mention some people don't have the antibodies. So, still a pretty good bet considering how varied it can be and how funky my hands are.

2. Sjorgren's Syndrome - A funny one that largely causes dry eyes and mouth. Swollen lymph nodes (I'm always sightly sick so who knows, but doctors always ask if I'm sick) are somewhat common. And Raynaud's. And dry skin or rashes.

It can also be comorbid with scleroderma out any other number of autoimmune diseases, so really this could be more of a complementary diagnosis than a standalone!


3. Just crazy hormones having a super tough time with any other number of bodily oddities - Occam's Razor mofo!

Dry mouth is idiopathic and exacerbated by birth control, dry eyes are hereditary and exacerbated by LASIK and birth control, dry skin is dermatitis and birth control, horrible hands are a massively bad case of poorly cared for chilblains, reflux is common and... exacerbated by the birth control.

...

Or it could be something I haven't even imagined. Some combination of hormonal stuff, chilblains and dermatitis run amok stress and some other random disease.

Regardless, there isn't a sense of certainty in the future under any circumstances. None of the likely conditions have cures or definitely predictable courses. It's likely that there are no magical cures.

If I still have reflux in a few weeks, I can try a new birth control pill. My hands may or may not clear up. If I have scleroderma, it may or may not progress much. If I have sjorgren's there are some treatments that probably aren't much different than what I'd already seek out. There are medications that may or may not work. The usual.

It all could be very bad very good, or very "that's life ... and then you actually die from a car crash after totally recovering from some far more heroic fight with disease."


I'm actually not too spooked yet, but because the first two are tricky to diagnose and really benefit from early intervention, I'm trying to stay informed. Next step is for a rheumy to look at the capillaries in my finger. If they're all screwy, then on we go. If not... See Option 3.


And minimize symptoms anyways.

Since the toddler is not present I plan to have a nice mellow grown up diet free of the cheesy ravioli she is insisting on shoving into my mouth (and or my eye). Drinking some mellow water. Destressing. And ... ok I am going to flame thrower the rest of the house soon. Really I'll resist only so long. But then? Maybe a movie? Do they still make movies? Do people watch these?