I think perhaps...

I think perhaps, the best thing I did for myself was getting far the fuck away from my male housemates, physically, geographically, mentally, and spiritually for four full nights last week.

It's made this nasty GI bug that has impacted all four of us significantly more tolerable.

While in Phoenix I had no idea that my family would, within 36 hours of my return, be welcoming me home with what some folks call "the stomach flu...."

I've been up to my eyeballs in bodily fluids, including my own, starting with my older son waking up twice in the wee hours of Tuesday morning with vomiting. In a positive spin, he made it all the way down the hall and into the toilet, both times. He's come a long way.

Typically I'm the parent who deals with puking, while my husband is the parent who deals with Kids in the Night (that's got the potential to be a teen horror movie, so I'm claiming it now!). However, my husband, being a very kind man, dealt with the older boy in the night...knowing I'd be home dealing with the day shift. Because the older one always gets hit harder.

When I was in Phoenix, I spent all day Friday in bed. I was unable to keep down any food or water. I ran no temperature. Maybe I had something...but it felt more like a hangover...so I'm rolling with that self-assessment. It was secretly kind of nice...just the no obligation thing...not the puking thing.

I think perhaps I know myself pretty well...and am humble enough to say I'm still learning about myself and my life.

While in Phoenix, I had the opportunity to learn about how my relationships with each of my parents have changed. For most of my life, I battled with my mother. For reasons I can only speculate on, my dad appears to be angry at me. I think perhaps he's incredibly frustrated with his situation.

Never in our wildest dreams do we anticipate our life turning out as it does. I never thought I'd be a college instructor...or the mom of a child with disabilities...or a yogi...a breast cancer survivor...a tonsil cancer caregiver.... Similarly, I think perhaps my dad never anticipated that his retirement would be about caring for his wife in her rapid decline. Her brain is atrophying...she has very little color in her face...she's lost weight compared to the last time I saw her at the end of March 2016.

She's become quite happy...or at least she appears to be. I took my parents and My Little Brother to dinner on Thursday night in The Valley of the Sun. We went to some #GoddamnFancyPantsPlacePlace in Scottsdale called Postino. It was delicious. The Kid knows his food. And points to him for picking a place that accommodates his veganism and my need for real cheese. #Duh

Anyway, after dinner, we four made a stop at Safeway because the Airbnb my folks were staying at didn't have any food in the fridge...because that's how Airbnbs work. Incidentally, the Airbnb arrangements were made by the Beautiful Bride. Needless to say, The Newlyweds learned a lot and My Folks will not be staying at an Airbnb again.

So, naturally there was a huge discussion about who should go in the grocery store, make decisions about what people were going to eat, and be quick about it. #FuckThatNoise #ImOnVacation So, go Dad, go! You take your boy. I'll stay in the car with mom. Bro, gimme your keys so we can lock ourselves in. My ringer is on in case Dad needs to ask Mom questions. But you text me. Do not hand him your phone and let him call because then we will never leave Safeway, dude, you know what I'm sayin? Take your time. Trust me when I tell you he needs the mental health break. Dividing and conquering is how to parent The Parents. It's all good. It's why I flew solo.

As my mom and I were sitting in the car, even though she asked me at least three times how old my boys are, or what grade they are in, we had a delightful and relaxed conversation. I patiently answered her questions. I also explained that The Boys were not here for many reasons, including school, expense, sports, and stress. She completely understood. I told her that they enjoy things like Living Room Soccer, Hallway Baseball, and World Wrestling Federation: Living Room Edition. We had a good, and much needed laugh together.

So she appears happy. My dad...not so much....

While at the wedding reception of My Little Brother and his Beautiful Bride, I gave myself opportunities to have conversations with folks who are my parents' ages, people I know they consider close family friends. These people have been a part of my family as long as I can remember. Apparently, whenever my dad brings up my mom's health, and specifically her brain health, to my mom...my mom gets pissed and doesn't want to talk about it. And that's completely understandable. Denial is their coping mechanism. Alternatively, they are incredibly private people.

In my research and teaching of the health of aging...hopefully we make it there, right? Anyway, the research shows that strategically, it's best to not argue with them. In fact, it can just get you in trouble. I think perhaps my dad needs to develop some strategies to help himself best help her.

To help them both, I've printed the information in the "printer friendly" version from above link and will send it down to them. Because #JesusKnows that had I chosen to print the page, my dad would've become overwhelmed and thrown it away. The Internet is such a trend.

My dad is a prideful man and appears to be completely satisfied with his "ignorance is bliss" mentality towards the fact that he's not on the Internet...no, really, I wish I was making this piece up. I distinctly recall living in Flagstaff, attending NAU, 23+ years ago, having a Math T/A require we have an e-mail...? WTF is this email nonsense? And who in the goddmamn does that T/A think he is requiring such shenanigans? Seriously, you guys. Is he really that important? Yes. Yes he is. #MathProfRockStar

I recall my dad calling the Internet "trendy"...he said it was a soup of the day. #JesusDad #IThinkPerhapsHeDoesntKnowWhatAHashtagIs #GodLoveHim #WhatElseCanYaDo And now, the Internet and the Information Age is just how the world works. And no, my dad's got no #GoddamnClue about Amazon. Netflix? Prolly not...Maybe a DVD Player...? But I'd bet money the VCR still blinks 12:00. I know for a fact it's a VHS and not Beta.

If you haven't jumped on the Web...well, as my dad said, he's on a stage coach and everyone else is driving a car. I think perhaps a better analogy is he's chosen to remain with the Flintstones, and damn near everyone else is like the Jetsons! Bless his heart.

Anyway, I've also printed a picture of me, My Little Brother, and our folks, the night before The Kid got married in an elaborate ceremony (more on that to come). In typing this, and putting some pieces together in my head, I recognize this could be one of the last pictures the four of us take while my parents, my mom in particular, is coherent. I'm not intending to sound cold...it's just reality, you guys.

My Little Brother, Mom, Me, Dad. The night before The Kid got hitched.

Today is Friday and it's the first day my older son went to school since Monday. My younger son had a horrible night and didn't sleep...because of the GI bug. My husband drove my older son to school, and went to work...but ended up canceling classes and came home. I'll leave soon to pick up my older son, and make a couple of stops on the way...including getting a card for my parents, and a stop at the Post Office to mail the card, the info on dementia care-giving, and the picture of the four of us. Hopefully the picture will distract her, jog her memory, and my dad can keep the paperwork on the down low. We'll see.... It may just end up in the trash. In my heart, I know I've tried my best and set boundaries.

Ultimately, at the end of the day, to my dad, it doesn't matter that I'm a college Health instructor, and I research and I teach about topics such as aging. It doesn't matter to him that I have years of experience caring for my son, whom I love very deeply and who happens to have myriad neurological disorders, struggle to simply get through the day sometimes...and that he needs a pretty significant daily dose of anti-seizure medications to stay healthy. That doesn't matter to my dad. Like I said, he's got a lot of pride. From his perspective, I don't have a clue what I'm talking about because, the bottom line for him is: I am a child. I will always be a child. I will never be an adult. In. His. Eyes.

I think perhaps this has something to do with the fact that he's never seen me parent. I've never traveled with my children to Arizona. The last time my parents were in my home in Washington State, my 13-year-old son was ten months. You read that correctly. Ten months old. And, no, they've never even met my 10-year-old. It's horribly unfortunate and quite disappointing that my kids do not know...will never know...my folks.

But, I'm allowed to be a selfish bitch, and if you don't have the courage, the capacity, the ability, to deal with me, my husband, our kids, and our numerous health issues, of which I'm quite outspoken, then you don't deserve us. No matter our connection prior to those numerous health issues. You don't get us dad, and mom. My Little Brother, and his Beautiful Bride: they get us. He came up during My Cancer Adventure. And in the space of 10 months, they came up to visit us TWICE. They get us. Just like I told every guest at their reception when I made an awesomely witty speech and toasted them. They. Get. Us.

Except when they got married. Then they only got me live and in person. But, they still get us as a family. Because that's what family does.

They get it.

On a slightly different note...and bringing us full circle back to "the stomach flu"...it's my blog, so I think perhaps I'll get on my soapbox now...

I think perhaps...actually I know people that say "the stomach flu" make me want to poke out my goddamn eyes.

There is no "stomach flu" people.

The flu, or influenza, is a respiratory infection. It hits you in the lungs. Not the gut.

So, with kids who have parents who smoke, those kids are at an increased risk for influenza and other respiratory impairments, like asthma and bronchitis, as well as ear infections...because they are inhaling secondhand smoke.

And while I recognize that folks have the best of intentions when they say "the stomach flu" it really tends to be a pet peeve of many health care professionals I know. So, please, use the correct terms. If you have "GI issues" and are dealing with barfing and hoping to make it to the toilet before you have liquid come out of your ass, then you're more than likely dealing with Norovirus. Alternately, you could also be dealing with Ebola, but that usually involves hemorrhaging. Like, bleeding out of your ass. And, Ebola hasn't yet made it to America. Hopefully it doesn't.

Also, you can feel free to watch this nifty 60 second video that the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention made about the flu. And refrain from whatever your stance is on vaccines. #ScienceWorks

Peace out, dudes.

Thanks for reading.

And wash your hands.

#MaRa
Ringleader
Anderson Family Circus

Feelin' Better

My 13-year-old is feeling better. #PraiseBe

I can tell because throughout the morning, in small doses, he was able to handle a variation of the BRAT diet: bananas, rice, apple sauce, toast.

Keeping down a hot soft pretzel (available in the frozen food section bc ain't nobody got time for that!), an apple sauce packet, a banana, and a red Popsicle. I know I'm not supposed to give a red Popsicle to a person who has been vomiting and has diarrhea. But seriously...? It's a reasonable risk, you guys. #JustEat

He's also been keeping down water. Which is really good. Especially when compared to yesterday when he couldn't keep water down. And in his world, that means he didn't take his anti-seizure meds. Of which there are plenty.

So far, with this GI distress, he's missed three doses of his anti-seizure meds, and naturally, he's at an increased risk for seizures. #Duh #CauseAndEffect #Science

I've been watching him closely and haven't seen too many. From his initial diagnosis when he was 4, I've remained cautiously optimistic that he'll outgrow his seizures. Many kids do.

Even though he has a rare form of Epilepsy called Lennox-Gastaut Syndrome...and those kids usually don't outgrow their seizures. I remain diligently optimistic. Because, according to my son's Pediatric Neurologist: my son doesn't do things by the book. So, maybe...someday...he will outgrow his seizures...?

When sickness runs through our home, my child with special needs gets hit the hardest and longest. It is unfortunate. But it makes sense. Because of the numerous anti-seizure medications my son takes on the daily, his excretory system is working harder, making him more at risk for kidney stones. And, he's already predisposed to those since both paternal grandparents have had them. I've heard women who have experienced both vaginal birth and kidney stones...hopefully not simultaneously...have said they'd rather give birth again than pass a kidney stone a second time. I can't say for certain, but it seems to me there's a lower level of long-term commitment with passing a kidney stone than giving birth. #WTFDoIKnow

And, of course, his digestive system is working harder...so his liver is also affected by the meds he takes. And he takes the meds so that he won't seize. And if he seizes...when he seizes...his brain stops for a few seconds.... And, yes, it's stressful to watch. every.single.time.

So far, he's missed two days of school. He may or may not go to school tomorrow. In our house, we say "We'll deal with tomorrow tomorrow." So that's what we'll do with that.

He's concerned about missing Fun Friday. I'm concerned about getting more food and liquids into him and out of him in the healthiest way possible.

While he's not moved off the couch in two days, he's definitely feeling better. And for this I am thankful. It remains to be seen if he'll be at school tomorrow.

Oh! JOY!!! The boys are fighting over what to stream!

#ThankJesus I went to Phoenix so I could come home and get my Mom on at the Boss Level. 

And don't worry, you guys...the wedding blog is coming.

Thanks for reading,
#MaRa

Perspective

I am home today with a sick teenager who has GI issues. 

 

But, today I am choosing to celebrate, because also on this day...

Forty-seven years ago I was born.

Seven years we were at the Autism Center in Seattle, and when I signed us in I accidentally put my birth year instead of the actual year.

Four years ago I completed radiation treatments for breast cancer.

 

And even though I'm planning on being up to my eyeballs in bodily fluids and laundry for the next several days, I am healthy and can be present with my kid during this trying time for him.

Life is all about perspective, you guys. 

 

Choose wisely, younglings. 

This is the only life we have.

 

And, Happy Birthday to ME!

Flying Solo

Due to events that are beyond my control, I'm flying solo to My Little Brother's wedding.

He and his Fantastic Fiancé have decided to get married in a church.

Not just any church. Like, if it was A Little White Chapel, in Vegas, my family would be more likely to make more of an effort swing that...maybe.

Alas, My Little Brother and his Fantastic Fiancé are getting married on Saturday in Phoenix, in the Coptic Orthodox Church of Alexandria. My future sister-in-law is an Egyptian immigrant. She and her family moved to America when she was about five years old.

And the ceremony is gonna be at least an hour.

By way of comparison, Vegas weddings are like 5-15 minutes, depending on the Chapel. When I worked at the Treasure Island Hotel and Casino's Wedding Chapel, the longer versions of the ceremonies were 15 minutes.

Yes. Yes, I was a professional Wedding Coordinator on the Strip. It was before grad school. I can tell you that not everyone is happy on their wedding day. So, being a Wedding Coordinator is actually part of the reason I went to grad school. My 9-month stint in Corporate America enhanced my record-keeping skills, and as a mom of a child with special needs, those skills are employed frequently.

My children are not church trained.

Circus trained? Yes.

Church trained? No.

And neither my husband or I have any desire to church train our children.

I certainly planned on taking them...My Little Brother's wedding...after all this is a once in lifetime event...and my kids worship their Uncle...and #JesusKnows in my family, with the myriad health issues that plague us, we certainly need to party and celebrate whenever we are given the opportunity.

Well-meaning friends who attend various church services said that most churches have a family room...? Like I could take my kids if they started acting like the monkeys that they are...?

Nope. Not happening. But thank you, well-meaning friends, for the suggestion.

When people who are autistic are taken out of their comfort zone, and expected to be on their best behavior inside of a place where they've never been in...a church for a minimum of an hour...and let's face it, it'll be more like several hours because pictures...there will be no chilling.

I hate to think of the discomfort and stress my older son would have...the increased case of the giggles...the increased chance of him wetting his pants. Not to mention the different shades of red my husband's beautifully bald head will turn trying to manage his own frustration and subsequent anger with the entire situation...no, thank you.

As parents, our primary job is to set our kids up for successful experiences. Yes, our kids need to fail every so often. But I'm not hauling my monkeys all the way from the North Olympic Peninsula down to Phoenix and expect them to sit quietly and not interrupt their Uncle's wedding...when they are hungover from traveling like they never have before in their entire lives...all in heat and sun they are not at all accustomed to...and, let's be honest, when it's 85 goddamn degrees outside, would you want to sit in a church with a fancy outfit on? No. You'd want your ass in the pool. With SPF 20 Million. Because my family of Pacific North Westerners have pasty white skin...and as a cancer survivor...SPF 20 Million is required, yo.

When My Little Brother and his Fantastic Fiancé came up to visit us in July, which was the second time inside of ten months, they graciously told my husband and I that if we needed to not go to their wedding, they totally support us and our parenting decisions.

Due to life circumstances, My Little Brother is the only person from my family that came to help me, my husband, and our boys when I was going through breast cancer treatments in the summer of 2015.

My mom's brain health is declining; dementia is a bitch. And the way my parents tend to cope with life-altering health issues is to not address it. Denial is a powerful coping mechanism for them.

And I get it.

But I don't.

Because if I didn't speak up when my son was three and having these weird eye movements, who knows what would've happened. Turned out he has epilepsy.

And had I chosen to not speak up when I found a lump in my breast in February 2015, I'd probably be dead. Cancer sucks.

Had I not pushed my husband to persevere through his own battle with HPV-caused tonsil cancer in the summer of 2016...we'll he'd probably be dead...and my kids would be orphans...because that's just how life shakes out for some families...and that totally sucks.

My point is, I choose to parent my family very differently than my parents parented me. (Is it socially acceptable to use three different forms of "parent" in one sentence?) It's not good or bad. It just is what it is.

And, for those of us who are parents, we know our kids better than anyone. My Little Brother and his Fantastic Fiancé know my kids pretty well. My parents, on the other hand, have no idea who my kids are...they have never seen me parent my children...the last time my parents were in Washington State, my older son was 10 months old; he is now 13 years old and in 7th grade. They've never even met my younger son, who is 10-1/2 years old and in 10th grade.

I know that this past springtime I said I was gonna train my monkeys to get on a plane, however, plans change...and ours sure did. Honestly, part of me says there's no fucking way I'm gonna haul my kids all the way the hell down to Arizona and back to Washington State at any time because my parents have put forth zero effort to get to know my kids. So, they don't deserve to spend time my kids, especially during the school year. And regardless of when you travel, traveling is expensive.

So, the best decision my husband and I made was for him to stay home with the boys, while I fly solo to Phoenix. Do I wish they were with me? Kinda. I'm not gonna lie, I'm thankful for the much needed break. Do I wish things were different. Of course I do. But I can't change it...so why waste time and energy on things you can't change?

The bottom line, My Little Brother loves his Fantastic Fiancé so much that he's willing to learn about the religion she was raised with and get married in that particular church. And my husband and my kids love My Little Brother so much that the best choice is for the Male Andersons to stay home.