The Doctor wants to control my entire life!

I'm taking Queen Teen to see a therapist in Mill Valley tomorrow. This person is supposed to help us manage Queen Teen's anxiety issues, especially around doctor's appointments. But right now, this appointment is creating anxiety for her, not helping.

When I told her about the upcoming appointment two days ago, she yelled that she wasn't going. Luckily I told her in the morning right before the school bus came so I didn't have to listen to the yelling all day. When she got home, she seemed to have forgotten about the appointment. But today when I picked her up from school, she was really quiet. When we got home she told me she didn't want to go to the doctor's.

"I'm tired of going to doctor's. Why do they have to be so far away?"

"I'm tired of them too, Honey. I wish they were closer."

"Well I don't want to! I hate doctors!" Then she started crying. It got even better from there.

Her councilor came to the house for his usual appointment and the two of them talked in her room for a while. She told him how angry she is about having to go, how much she hates doctors, how they are boring, how the car ride is too long... and on and on and on. She started to cry and he told her everything would be okay. When it was time for him to go, she went into the hallway and hit her calendar with two fists. "I'm not going and you can't make me!"

Oh this is fun.

Sometimes I really hate being the mom. I hate having to drag my furious daughter to doctor's appointments, hate having to hold her down when they need to do blood work, hate bribing her to get in the car. I hate the long drives, the long hours, the endless paperwork. I hate my daughter's screams of rage and then the tears when she realizes there's nothing she can do to stop it.

At dinner she looked directly at me and said, "The doctor wants to control my entire life!"

That is probably exactly how it feels to her. She has very little say about what happens to her. All she can do is fight for the meager control she has.

Where is the balance in all of this? How do I help her stop feeling so helpless, while also providing the care she desperately needs? How can I help her understand doctors are trying to help, not torture her?

Maybe the councilor and the therapist tomorrow will help me find some answers. But for now, this really sucks.

Um, excuse me... could I have my vacation now please?

I must have been crazy to think I would actually get some time to lounge on the deck in my underwear and read books this summer. Since school ended two weeks ago, I've been racing the clock every day, playing catch-up with the pile of work that's gathered since the first day of Spring semester (back in January). There are forms from various agencies needing to be filled out, doctor's appointments to drag Queen Teen to, book marketing and book orders, submissions to the press needing to be read, mending, housework, inventory, and the end of the business tax season (hello sales tax!),  all joining forces in one colossal mountain of work, demanding attention now. There will be no lounging in our underwear reading books; there will be tasks to complete! Many, many, many, many, many, many, many tasks to complete, and all before the end of the month.

Starting with : your car! 

If I can't keep up with the housework inside the house, do you really think I'd manage to keep my car clean? Not likely. But when my husband pulled half a burger from under my car seat and asked, "How long has this been here?",  I knew the car had surpassed filth. That first Monday after school ended, I cleaned my car from top to bottom, vacuuming upholstery, scrubbing spilled soda out of the cup holder, wiping six months of dust off the console, picking something sticky off the steering wheel (chocolate?)... I won't tell you what other things I found buried under the back seat (things I can't blame on the child, unfortunately). And while doing all this scrubbing, I discovered a universal truth: dog hair is forever. No amount of scrubbing or vacuuming with an industrial Shop-Vac can remove dog hair from the interior of a mini-van. Can-not-be-done. But at least all signs of graduate school filth have been removed from my car.

The next day, we all went to Stanford for Queen Teen's MRI. We made tuesday the fun day, wandering around the Stanford mall and then exploring downtown Palo Alto, which is lovely. Spending the night in a motel, we got up extra early to haul Queen Teen kicking and screaming to the 8:00 am appointment at Lucille Packard. She had to have general anesthesia for the procedure, but you'd think we were asking her to eat that month old burger I found in my car. Rick had to drag her out of the car and into the hospital, and then when the nurse tried to get her to drink the medicine that would help her relax, she started screaming and kicking. One Nurse got so upset she left the room. I can only imagine what she must be saying in the break room. At one point in the battle, Queen Teen managed to break free from Rick's powerful arms, only to be capture by me and then forced to drink that yucky medicine with her head held back and the nurse squirting it down her throat with a syringe. I don't know if the medicine started to work, or she just crashed from the adrenaline, but she looked at me with angry eyes and said, "Let's just get this over with." Then she fell asleep.

Times like those make me wonder if all these tests are really worth the trauma they generate.

Now we're back home. Queen Teen seems to have recovered from the torture of the hospital MRI. She and I are hiding from the 100 degree temperature outside, and fighting epic boredom. The AC in my van died, so we're trapped when it gets over 90. Queen Teen can't tolerate the heat, so we watch movies, color, play games, and try not to drive each other too crazy. I dash around from task to task, constantly interrupted by "Mom...."  There's another reason I was crazy to think I'd be able to do any lounging this summer: Queen Teen is out of school, too. There isn't a mom on the planet who gets to relax when the kids are out for summer.

Maybe next month?

Ice Cream, Yogurt and Mashed Potatoes

 

(image from Burnt Lumpia)

While eating her vanilla yogurt, Queen Teen stared at her bowl for a long time, then she said, "If yogurt is white, and ice cream is white, and mashed potatoes is white, how do you know which one it is?"

I laughed. I couldn't help it. It was such a surreal question, so I assumed she was joking. But she looked at me so studiously I suddenly realized she was serious. Ooops.

"Um... well... you can smell them," I said.

She sniffed her yogurt. "Smells like yogurt."

"Exactly. If we had any ice cream you could smell that and see how it's different."

Nodding, she kept looking at me as if waiting for me to go on.

"And if we had any mashed potatoes, you could smell those and see how they're different from yogurt and ice cream."

"But what if you can't smell them?"

"Um... you can taste them. Also, mashed potatoes are usually hot and ice cream is usually cold. And yogurt is cold too, but not as cold as ice cream."

She took another bite of yogurt and then looked at me again, waiting.

"And you store them differently. Ice cream is in the freezer, yogurt is in the fridge and mashed potatoes are cooked on the stove." There. I had explained it from every angle. Now she would understand.

She nodded again and took another bite, her eyes looking dreamy as she gazed off into the distance, pondering my explanation.

How did she not know this? I mean, really... isn't the difference between ice cream, yogurt and mashed potatoes obvious?

Not when you're visually impaired.

This was another reminder of how much of the details in life Queen Teen misses. Everything she knows, she's had to be shown, through explanation, contact, and hands-on experience. There is very little incidental learning when you can't see clearly, and it gets even harder when your hearing is poor as well. You can't sit in your chair and watch Mommy cook dinner, you need to be beside Mommy going through the steps of a meal preparation with her.

Sometimes I think I've got this mommy-gig nailed, then other times I realize how much I've assumed she understands and didn't take the time to show her. What else has she missed?

Waiting

It feels like I spend a great deal of my time waiting. Just waiting. Sitting in my room surfing the internet, not really getting any work done because at any moment Queen Teen will yell for me to come and help her with something. She can't find her book, or her little puppy figurine. She wants to play with her Groovy Girls but can't get the box down from the shelf by herself. She sneezed but can't find the tissue box. About every ten to fifteen minutes Queen Teen will call me and I will drop whatever I'm doing to see what she needs.

I've tried relaxing and just doing what I want, not worrying about the moment she calls me. Maybe I can sit down and read a text-book, or work on my novel, or fold ALL the laundry at one time. But what usually happens is that I get so frustrated with the constant interruptions that I give up on doing anything that requires too much concentration, like my homework. I do my homework in the morning, or when she's watching a DVD (thank goodness for Sponge Bob!). At night, I wait for her to go to sleep because if I try to go to bed before then she'll pull me out of bed with more needs: she can't get comfy, her pj's are twisted, she needs a drink of water, her hair is in her face.

As soon as she gets on the school bus, the clock is ticking. I rush around trying to get everything done before she comes home, which is impossible, but it makes me great at time management. I've had 14 years of practice. Right now I'm not working, but that will change when I finish school. How will I get anything done once I have a full time job?

By now, I thought she'd be doing more for herself like other children her age. Instead it feels like I still live with a toddler who needs constant supervision.

Do other moms feel like this? How do you balance the waiting with your own needs?

At last she said something other than "I don't know!"

For many, many, many, many, MANY years, Queen Teen's favorite sentence has been, "I don't know." Ask her anything and she will almost instantly respond with, "I don't know." Do you want ice cream or a cookie? I don't know. Would you like to watch a movie or read a book? I don't know. Would like me to poke you with a sharp stick? I don't know.

She is capable of saying something else; I've heard her many times. If she really wants something she'll speak up in a loud, clear voice. She'll tell you her opinions, her ideas, her desires and what she doesn't like.

But usually, her response to any question or suggestion is "I don't know."

The other day, I reached the limit of my patience.

"Would you like a cheese quesadilla for lunch?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"Do you want something else?"

"I don't know."

"Are you hungry?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know! I don't know! Can you say anything other than I don't know?"

"I don't know." She shrugged.

"Fine! I guess when you're hungry you'll tell me what you want for lunch. Or I guess I can just cook you anything I want and you'll eat it because you don't care!"

We stared at each other for several moments, me with my arms crossed and she chewing on her bottom lip.

Then she said, "I'm not sure."

I burst out laughing.

She grinned.

I guess "I'm not sure" is more accurate than "I don't know."

I am terrible at relaxing

I had minor surgery on Tuesday and have been lying on the couch watching old movies and drinking tea for four days. You'd think I'd be in heaven. What mom wouldn't love to spend four days lounging on the couch while other people do the laundry, the dishes, the housework, the childcare, the shopping and the bills? Unfortunately, I suck at relaxing.

I can't do it. Lying here, I think about the thousands of things that need to be done, like homework and editing and refilling the hummingbird feeder. I worry that Queen Teen is feeling stressed out by my incapacity and I feel guilty because my husband is having to do everything. He races from room to room, helping Queen Teen, doing the housework, answering the phone, running to the pharmacy, while trying to work on computers. My mom came one day to help, my friend Jane came the next. My sister-in-law stopped by with a Starbucks latte and some scrap booking magazines. All of these people came to help and support me while I recover.

I hate it.

I am the one who takes care of people. The one who waits on people. Not the other way around. So getting all of this attention is disturbing. Which forces me to ask: do I really think I don't deserve the help?

Why can't I allow myself to relax, say thank you when help is offered, let go of any guilt at watching the Thin Man in the middle of the afternoon, and stop worrying that Queen Teen will be damaged by my four days on the couch? Are all moms like this, or just me?

My family is struggling, but managing. Queen Teen has done a good job taking care of herself and my husband has dealt with all the extra responsibility without entirely losing his mind (mostly). They aren't the happiest people in the world though, and I see clearly how my energy keeps this family and our home running smoothly. But no one has died from my incapacity, not even the fish.

Perhaps I just need more practice letting go and relaxing. Although next time, I'll go on vacation and skip surgery.

The Bathtub Pillow

Queen Teen loves to lounge in her bubble bath. She stretches out, arms behind her head, feet propped against the side of the tub to keep from sliding, and sings songs as loud as she can. "This little light of mine. I'm gonna let it shine!" "Oh Mr. Sun, Sun. Mr Golden Sun. Please shine down on me." "And I say hey, HEY. What a wonderful kind of day. When you can learn to work and play. And get along with each other."

Lately though, she's complained of not being "comfy" in the tub. She says resting her head on the tub is "too hard." And so I said, "Let's find a bathtub pillow." She thought I'd made that up, but I insisted there was such a thing.

This just shows how desperate I am to keep my daughter from getting the blues in the Summer. And to prove how desperate I am, I took her to Walmart. On a Sunday. Anyone who's ever been to Walmart on a Sunday knows how desperate I must be. I hate Walmart, so I avoid it as much as possible. But finding a bathtub pillow became extremely important.

Of course, Walmart didn't have one, but Rite Aid did. A soft, cloth covered bathtub pillow. Queen Teen couldn't wait to try it out.

I made her a bubble bath and she got in, started singing, then lay back on the pillow. She shifted her weight, sat up, fluffed the pillow, lay back again, sat up again, glared at it, fluffed it some more, lay back, sat up, then announced, "I can't get comfy."

I tried moving the pillow higher on the side of the tub. No luck. Queen Teen declared it wasn't comfortable. My frustration level slowly began to rise. Do you mean to tell me I went to WALMART on a SUNDAY, fought crowds, stood in a too long line to buy a filter for my fish tank despite the fact Walmart didn't have a tub pillow, drove around town to find the damn pillow, spent good money on it, and YOU DON'T LIKE IT?

She lay back again and then said, "I can't get comfy because my feet are on the other side."

"What?"

"My feet touch the side."

I looked down at her feet and saw her toes pressed against the far side of the tub. "If you're feet didn't touch the side you'd slip."

"But they're touching the side."

"That's a good thing."

"I don't like it."

I took a VERY deep breath and said, "I think you're determined to be miserable."

She looked at me closely, pondering what I said for a moment. Then she slowly nodded her head. "Probably."

Goodbye Hug Bear

About a week ago, I went into Queen Teen's room to tuck her in and found Hug Bear on the floor. I picked up the soft, matted, lumpy teddy-bear she's slept with since she was 5 and put it back in the bed with her.

Two nights ago I helped her climb into bed with her books and while I tucked the blankets around her I noticed Hug Bear wasn't on the bed. I secretly scanned the floor, even checking under the bed, but there was no sign of him. Rather than say anything to Queen Teen about her missing, favorite bear, I left her to her books. When I went back to cover her up for lights out, I waited for the question, "Where's Hug Bear?" She didn't say anything.

Yesterday I noticed she had moved her Disneyland dolls onto the bed (baby Belle, Little Cinderella and Rosetta the Fairy). I was still puzzled about Hug Bear. Where was he, and why wasn't Queen Teen asking about him? She's never been able to sleep without him; in fact when she left him at her dad's house one time she cried every night until her dad mailed him back to her. When she was in the hospital for her feet surgery Hug Bear never left her arms. And he has been a constant companion during every doctor's appointment for the last 9 years.

While putting her sweater away, I found Hug Bear. He was shoved into a cubby with the other dolls she doesn't play with but doesn't want to give up. Hug Bear was unceremoniously stuffed in with Sally, the Russian rag doll she got when she was 2; Magenta and Blue, Pooh Bear, Little Bear, Emily, the four stuffed dogs and Dirga the kitty who purrs when you squeeze her tummy.

I stared at that stuffed bear as if I had found a bag of weed in her room. The day had finally come: Queen Teen no longer needed Hug Bear.

She had decided on her own that she didn't need to sleep with Hug Bear anymore and hadn't said a word to me, so I didn't ask her. But the thought of her most treasured stuffed bear hanging alone in a cubby on the back of her door makes me very, very sad, even though I know her giving up her bear is a good thing. She's growing up, gaining skills and maturity, becoming more of herself and not a child. I'm excited for her, but sad at the same time. I will miss that little girl.

The Original Five Things I Love About Being a Mom

I found the originator of the Motherhood Meme.

Check out Her Bad Mother for the post that explains it all, as well as to read a new, funny mama blog.

This was my first meme, and I really loved the idea that all us Mama's are connected through our devotion to our children and our love of blogging.

I had a lovely Mother's Day. Slept in, got my traditional, once a year breakfast in bed, went for a long walk with my hubby, daughter and dog, then went to a play that afternoon (saw Agatha Christie's Mouse Trap at the Ukiah Player's Theatre. Great acting and the set was amazing, especially when you consider this is a small, local theatre with a microscopic budget).

I hope all you Mama's had a lovely weekend too, regardless of whether or not you live where there is an "official" Mother's Day. Every day is a day to acknowledge the work and devotion of motherhood everywhere!

Grad School and Mommy Guilt

It amazes me how much I can do. I'm a mother in graduate school who owns a small business. Those three things compete for my time and energy. Right now school has to take top billing because it's the end of the semester and I have finals and papers due. For this, I feel guilty. My daughter should be the top priority, and of course she is, but my time is spent writing research papers and studying for tests, not taking her for walks or playing games.

I hate that, and it makes me wonder if I've made the right choice going back to school.In the long run, it will be very, very good for my family. But right now, I am putting two years of my life, of her life, into classwork. I am focusing on the outcome and my future earnings potential. What about today?

It will be worse this summer when I go to summer school. I am taking two classes in a short, five week, semester, which I know is insanity, but if I have to go down to the bay area for several days, I might as well take two classes and get it over with. I'll be gone all week, only home on the weekends, and even then I'll more than likely need to lock myself in my room to read textbooks.

And now to make it more interesting, I'v lost my childcare. We had an amazing respite worker, a young woman full of energy and creativity that Queen Teen bonded with and started to call "friend." She moved, so now we're without child care and Queen Teen lost her friend. She's sad and I'm stressed. Will I find anyone before summer semester starts? And how will Rick and Queen Teen get along when I'm gone all week?

My business is the lowest priority, which is unfortunate, especially since I launched a book and now have zero time to market it. I throw receipts into a folder, respond to emails and phone calls half-heartedly, and haven't updated my inventory since January. Pretty ironic when I just wrote a book about how important it is to manage your publishing company like a business. Yeah, yeah... I'll do that later.

My own writing? Forget it. If I'm not reading a text book I'm spending time with my girl. Something had to go and it couldn't be sleep.

Queen Teen just rolls with it. On Tuesdays I put her on the bus and wave goodbye because I won't see her until the next day. At first she was sad, now she just waves back and tells me "see you tomorrow." When she gets off the bus Wednesday afternoon she smiles so big her whole body shakes. It only takes a day for me to miss her. I dread this summer.

Why do mothers beat themselves up for being away from their children?

Here I am, "wasting time" blogging. I'd better get off the net and finish my paper. Sorry I've been so out of touch, everyone. I'll read your posts asap. I really do love reading what you write.

Five Things I Love About Being A Mother

Tagged by Terri.

1) I love watching my daughter grow and become her own person. She is utterly fascinating, and often surprising. We are different in many ways, and so alike in others.

2) I love how I can soothe her fears with a simple hug; how I am the person she comes to first for help and advice; how her face lights up when she sees me waiting for her at the bus stop and she yells, "Hi Mom." (and yes, I know how blessed I am that my teenager daughter is still happy to see me.)

3) I love how my daughter has changed the way I look at the world; how she has helped me learn to literally stop and smell the flowers, enjoy the sunshine, listen to the birds, hunt for butterflies, and look at rocks. I play more and explore more, all thanks to Queen Teen.

4) I love how motherhood has taught me to be more organized and manage my time better. Before I was a mother, I spent HOURS writing terrible poetry while sipping cappuccinos in a cafe, pondering my life, and wandering aimlessly, feeling lost. Now I have a set amount of time to write or blog or manage my book press and those deadlines make me far more productive and creative. My life has a direction and a center, which was something I needed.

5) I love how motherhood has made me stronger and shown me that I am capable of far more than I ever gave myself credit for. I feel confident and smart, something I never felt before I became a mom. Through trial and error, I've learned that I'm a good mom, and I hope I am teaching my child that she is smart and capable as well, even more so than me.

Tag! Tama and TJ, I'm passing this on to you.