Eve Isn't the Only One

Warning folks. They ain't all gonna be warm and fuzzy. 

"Throughout human history, we have been dependent on machines to survive. 

Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony." Morpheus

Now I understand why my Mum says she missed the 60's because she was too busy raising children. She had five spanning 1961 to 1972. While I am still at the genesis of motherhood, I get it. With a new baby in town, I have been watching a bit of news in the wee hours of the morning before our sons awake and Nick Jr. becomes our correspondent. Often the news I learn is only gained from headlines crossing my screen as I move to articles on parenting or health or while perusing facebook, the fun time-eater.

This morning at 4AM, the news covered Scotland and the IPhone 6 release before I drifted off, just after our baby did. It is 1:15PM. I am struck by the absurdity of it all, everything, just all of it. When I feel like this, my mind connects the dots until an image surfaces to help me justify my thoughts.

Here you go. Maybe my thought isn't original. There's probably a radical Christian preacher out there somewhere whose face turned red from raising his voice to the masses today. Perhaps there is a thoughtful Christian young person on youtube with a spoken word piece. I have not seen anyone make the connection I did. I am Presbyterian though I do not attend church often and practice more by living than listening. This just struck me funny today, not funny haha, but funny WTF?!?!

Thousands of people lined up today to get the NEW IPhone6. They contemplated which one to get and made pros and cons lists probably using some app from the Apple store. Hey if you're living in a bubble (which I am but still caught this), here's a link.

http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2014-09-18/apple-s-new-big-screen-iphones-draw-long-lines-at-stores.html

I hesitate writing this one because I know my opinion is not the popular one, but I never was the popular one. Fuck it. Deep breath. Go! We are lining up for phones... for phones people! What the fuck is wrong with us? There are people who line up for food, and I don't mean waiting in line at Wegmans. Today I also saw that six Iranians were arrested for dancing to "Happy". Check out their fate.

http://www.abc.net.au/news/2014-09-19/iranian-happy-singers-get-suspended-sentence/5754694

Today I saw an ISIS propaganda video with a British journalist who may never see his family again. I won't go on and on about all the happenings in the world that even my child-raising, news-sheltered self sees. These few headlines particularly caught my eye, and there is a tad more. Hundreds of Colombian girls are getting sick just after receiving the Gardasil vaccine. Speaking of girls, what happened to "SAVE OUR GIRLS!"

I'm sorry, not really. I'm pissed that we can flash mob any event anywhere but can't get our shit together to start making a difference. It seems like anytime we stand up for something as a mass, we are tearing shit down - hello Ferguson. Thanks for ruining lives of small business owners like me because you are pissed off about racism. Surely there is a way you could have made a positive difference. Instead you hurt your neighbors and your neighborhood and likely created more racists when they saw what you did to your own town because you scared them. But I agree with you, racism is still alive and well and I can't stand it. It's time to do a better job lifting each other up. Damn, we sure are good at lining up to buy MORE, always MORE. Why can't we line up to DO more, DO more good?

It's not just Americans who stood the line for a phone. Personally I am not an Apple person. You know why? Because everyone else is. I like to feel I am making my own choice and when I make the same one everyone else does is just feels like I'm being a Sheeple. I was not raised to be a Sheeple. Also most techie people (not all, but most I have met) do not like Apple. Lord knows I barely make use of the zillion features on my Samsung Galaxy (I don't know what number it is - sorry). You know it's the next great thing or some shit like that. I do prefer to buy the technology that people who do this shit for a living think is better. You're an Apple person? I don't really care nor am I impressed, but I hope you didn't wait in line. I do know there are just some people who are Mac/Apple people. I do know people who find their platform to be a better fit. This is really not directed at you.

I am impressed by the marketing genius that Apple is. Their commercials really make you believe that having their products will make you cooler (well I guess it does), will make you happy (notsomuch), will make you dance on the sidewalk as you make your way to work (never saw it personally). To date, Apple deserves the "Marketing Campaign of the Century Award". They have convinced us that it is not shameful and bizarre to wait in line for hours for a Goddamn phone! FUCK! That is NOT normal people! That is just not fucking right.

If everyone who was in line this morning got together to protest Monsanto, maybe, just maybe our food would not have additives that are not safe. Maybe we could put a stop to Frankenfood and demand that Monsanto scientists and engineers figure out how to produce more food for the world without compromising people's immune systems. That one bugs me personally, but there are hundreds of issues which could use some masses and some leaders to get us there. Hey, here's one since we are all a little techie. Let's march our asses down to Facebook headquarters and demand they stop violating our privacy while forcing us to use Messenger. Hey Facebook, we like your shit! Can you stop harvesting things that are none of your damn business?

Fuck it. Stand in line, drink your Starbucks, don't forget (like you would) to take a selfie of you proudly waiting (did you take off work for this?!?), pay for your phone with plastic, take another selfie with it, then bitch about how long the updates take, whip it out everywhere you go while only hearing every third word your companion (friend, boss, cashier, server, whomever) says, and tell everyone how fucking amazing it is. Maybe iOS 8 can cure cancer. I hope the bugs are small. I hope it makes you happy. I know it makes you cool. I guess we'll see you in line on Black Friday waiting for the curved television. If not then, we'll catch you in the headlines next year or two when the IPhone 7 is released.

Meanwhile, while "Everything is Awesome" in your world, I'll probably still be asking forgiveness for F bombing; and I'm sure I'll still be trying to find peace in a world that has lost its collective mind.

All I'm sayin' is Eve isn't the only one who ate that apple.

Guardian

We went to our first baseball game last night as L. has been wanting. Thankfully a friend gave us the tickets and we even found free parking. Great relief to have a night out that didn't make me resentful of our woes. There were several highlights: My sister holding her niece as she focused on something invisible in the sky. She voiced that perhaps Robert came to see the Roberto Clemente presentation. Watching L. let loose a little and stomp his feet and even almost dance brings a wistful smile to me as I recall that mind's eye snapshot. Seeing a couple friends from Howard County, people who treat us as family whenever we see them was great. Watching children, whom I don't know, cheer for their team and exude joy was cool. While I wanted him to shush, I still appreciated the adult who bantered to the players though they could not hear him. I imagined him as a child listening to his own father at Memorial Stadium, "swingbatterbatter". Seeing our oldest on the shoulders of my husband with our second along their sides was uplifting as we have too few family outings. The time we have gives me peace as it makes me feel normal for those fleeting minutes. I struggle in those seconds to forget our reality.  

Truth is for me the night was beyond overwhelming. There are symptoms of illness which remain. At times I have random pains. My tolerance has grown but my arm throbbed in a pulse. I tolerated it as I held our baby in a carrier and put my mommy mask on to let L. enjoy this night. I get disoriented and anxious in unfamiliar places and crowds. I'm not talking about that normal anxiety which many people feel. I'm talking about something that comes with the poison inside of me. It mutates normal feelings, twisting and magnifying them to a place that rationally I know is not real. I breathe to exhale the discomfort from my soul but the modified emotions are intense. My logical nature often loses to their toxic force.  

I have much to say about being sick and am contemplating how to tell my story when part of its unfolding affected my mind, when putting thoughts together frustrates me to a level that does not make sense. My calculating mind has always been able to process. The fog has not yet sufficiently risen over the bridge. Each day I nurture the breeze to whirl away the haze which hides my clarity.

Both our sons have risen to be my protectors, each finding soulful gifts. This story about the baseball game is not about our seven year old finding a compromise with his introverted nature and the big wide world. This is a tale of how my heart exploded with honor as I watched, almost from outside of myself, N. show his love towards me. 

My darling second son has long batting dark eyelashes that will touch some girl's heart one day. He clung to me almost continuously for his first eight weeks, and shares my genetic inability to clear mold toxins. When I learned this, the intensity of his newborn need for me made sense. Infants are driven by instincts and his knew there was danger. I worry for his future. I will research until I take my last breath so that he can hold onto his health. His predisposition to stereotypical male behavior has taught me something about nature versus nurture and love. He only says "I love you" to me - well, until our baby girl arrived. I think it took her about a week to steal his heart. Otherwise he will punch people for whom he cares and wait for their reaction. Also, his first reaction to protecting his space is physical not verbal. I am amused by that insight as he is so much more verbal than our first. I am able to see how his jabs differ in caring and in fending off.  

Though I had the worst symptoms during N.'s block of severe selfish toddler behavior, my little fellow was the only person who never made me feel guilty for being ill. He accepted the difference in me in stride. He did not like when I cried and would tell me to stop my "whining" but it was in such a matter of fact way that I was pretty sure he just didn't like the weeping competing with his television show. His continued need for me felt more like his way of making me feel safe than a ploy for attention. 

We had a thing... 
N., "Hey mAWWWWWWmmmeeeeeeee. I wUUUUUUUUvvv you." 
Me in reply, "Hey N.!" 
N., "I know what you are going to say. You are going to say that you love me too." 
Me with a smirk or laugh at the repetition of this game, "Yep, N. I love you too." 
N., "I knew you were going to say dat." 

No matter what type of day I had, he always showed me love and friendship. He didn't have fear in his eyes about my behavior or lack of energy. Sometimes I noticed my oldest did. While he has a strong attachment to me, he is a pretty independent kid and makes due playing by himself. Honestly, like me and Mark, some days he prefers it that way. Alone he can complete the missions he creates in his mind. 

Back to last night. N. is not much of a hand holder but there are situations that we reign in his independence and grab his hand. I just remembered his first sentence, "I do it", ever so ready to do things all by himself. L. and Daddy have taken the lead as we leave the stadium. I have baby M. in the Bjorn and carry a bag of bottles on my shoulder. My arm is pulsing in inflammation. I ignore it as it's time to be mama bear and help deliver our children home safely. The energy of the night time city is new for the children. Daddy and L. get too far ahead. N. says, "C'mon Mommy!" as he turns his stroll into a forward scurry using the momentum with a determined purpose. He is pulling me and baby to move more quickly, to catch up. When we walk as five again, I look at him and see how much he has changed the past year. 

While he still expects and wants me to take care of so many of his needs, he has become my guardian. We fall behind again. He pushes ahead and almost lets go but grabs my hand tighter to help me catch up. My fingers are twice the length of his, but my hand feels small in his somehow. N., "I don't want this place to lose you. Cause this place is vERRRRRy big." I look down at him again. I imagined the day I will look up at him, the day when I need help and he is going to be there for me. This child just took on the role of a man. Guardian. 

As I type this, he just said "I love you." Through the side of his eyes, he looks at me and points to me and the baby as he says "I was saying that to you and M." Then he pats her on her sleeping head and says "Good baby". I will keep reading and learning in the hopes of gifting him his health as he ages. I whisperingly know that he is prone to an illness which will pickpocket his wellness without him knowing, like it did to me. We are a growing silent epidemic on the horizon. We are invisible, misunderstood, condescendingly scoffed at and not believed. We are lost in this country's medical world. What I realized last night is I am protecting the boy, who, with a manly sized wisdom, is already protecting me and guarding his little sister with his soul. He has a strong supporter in our battle, his big brother whose heart has exponentially grown with his thoughtfulness to me in my illness. But L. is moving to a place in life where he is not so much dragging me to safety, but looking over his shoulder from time to time to make sure I am still there.

One day, one today, N. will read these words and I hope they are enough for him to know that he was my best friend when I was the worst. He approached it all so matter of factly and with such acceptance that he was the only person who made me feel whole when I was so broken. Others came around, but he never left my side. It seems strange that a child who spanned the ages of 3 and 4 would be the one to be there for me like that. In contemplating this, I just now realized that because this illness does not make sense to anyone except those who study it and those who have it, an adult never could have been there for me like that. Mycotoxicosis, mine from tricothecene, seems absurd, seems too paranoid, seems too far out there for many to grasp. I am not allergic to mold - I've had that test. When you suffer from this and know that it is being poisoned from a toxin in our environment, not an allergic reaction; when you walk into a place and immediately begin to itch and break out in a rash as what's left of your immune system attempts to fight; when you've had people whom you consider the closest look at you like you need a psychiatrist - this is when I realized that my darling second son would be the most logical person to have been my best friend. Without intentionally doing so, that relationship encouraged his primal, protective nature until this almost 5 year old of mine guards me in a city which he does not know, at a time of night he rarely sees. 

There is a book we read together when he had insomnia. I would read a page and then he would recite a page. The last is me saying "Is it the end" and him saying "or just the beginning." After our first baseball game, I know this is the beginning of him being there for me as I age. This illness eats memories, but I hope by writing this that the snapshot of him pulling us forward is framed in my mind's gallery.           

Letter to My First Grader About What He Wore

L-
Today you started first grade. I was so happy and proud of you as you walked across the sidewalk. No tears shed from any of us. You didn't look over your shoulder, you didn't cling to me for a hug. I have no picture of what your eyes looked like as you went off to face the beginning of a new day in your life. My mind sees you walking away. No, you weren't doing that at all. You were walking towards something. 

But then again, you don't know what is about to happen so why would you look back? You don't know that this blink which began today is not mine to own but yours. You don't know that 36 years from now you may be telling me, as I just told my own mother this week, about something you despised, something which will bring me guilt decades after the fact. I have no grudge against the thing that I did not like and hopefully neither will you. Still I will feel like I did something wrong just as my Mum felt when I told her that I didn't like riding the bus. All you know is that, well I don't know what you know or thought when I woke you for school. I'd like to think you know there are big things to learn ahead, that these educators are the keys to something new. Perhaps you just know that you are ready for something different.

Last night I washed the shirt you wanted and Daddy set out a proposed outfit after you were asleep. When you awoke, you quickly put on those clothes but that is not what you really wore to school. You didn't wear excitement. You didn't wear anxiety or fear. You wore more of a "this is what I do today" attitude. You did wear readiness for what was next, not lingering in the past. You wore today but not yesterday. 

I wore pride because you wore today. As cautious as you can be, you wore comfort to your first day in a brand new school. I don't remember looking into your eyes because we did not make that contact. I remember looking into the principal's eyes. He paced on the curb observing and helping welcome all of you. I was excited for him and the teachers and administrators and workers because they know what starts today. They don't know what today will bring, but they know it is the beginning of a new day, a new chance to educate, to enlighten, to hopefully inspire and encourage young minds. They all wore smiles and new beginnings at this brand new school. They wore hope for the world tomorrow because of what they will do today. But you my son, my sun, you simply wore today.

Your Dad and I smiled as we drove off, not because we were happy to leave these lazy days of summer, but because we liked what you chose to wear to school. We have so much more to learn from you and you from us of course. Together we drove you to school because we are learning little by little that these moments in your life, your brother's life and your sister's life are what has to supersede yesterday and tomorrow. After a year filled with sorrow, we are learning that the present is far more important to appreciate, and perhaps we were missing too much by wearing yesterday and tomorrow. We did not drive you to hover. We drove you to say thank you for being the sun we so needed to warm us during our struggles.

I have to admit that I cried about an hour after Daddy dropped me off at home because I changed into yesterday. Yesterday, we brought you home. You and I were alone a lot the first week. We listened to Coldplay and I cried tears of wonder and joy to hold my first child in my arms. Even now, I can close my eyes and hear the shadowy piano of "Clocks" and "The Scientist" and feel the late September sun shining in our window and feel the warmth of you in my arms. I had not been sure that day, that tomorrow, would come. I had not known what wearing this kind of love would feel like. It fit me better than my favorite dress from my childhood. It fit your Dad better than his softest shirt. I wanted to make a slideshow of the pictures of what you wore today, but the pictures could not show that you wore today.

As I sit idle, not out of sadness but in a carpe diem kind of way, tending to your brother and sister - but not trying to get all those things done that I don't get to in a day, I think that I want to choose today from my wardrobe more often. I have told you how you taught me to be a Mommy to which you do not respond. I will say it to you again and another time, or maybe today, to your brother and sister. Today you taught your Mommy what to wear. Tomorrow I will try harder to choose wiser. Today I can't help but think of swinging you around in my arms when all I wore was love, unconditional overwhelming love. All those yesterdays ago, I did wear today but it got pushed to the back of my closet.

Today, on your first glorious day of first grade, I was the one to learn the bigger lesson because of what you wore to school. Shine on my son, my sun. Our lashes are falling into a blink and when we open our eyes so many todays will have passed. Because of you, I will make a stronger effort to breathe in each moment and wear today as much as I can. Yesterday doesn't fit anymore and tomorrow is a bit too loose. Today fits snugly and it still smells of that yesterday of unconditional love and feels soft against my skin.

Love,
Mommy-o's