Archive | May, 2012

Bless-Sed

17 May

First off, I would like to thank each of you who complimented me in such a way as to make me feel like “Super Mom”.  You all gave me a lovely gift, and I am grateful.

Secondly, I have to say that both of my children are very good at blessing me.  They stayed back from church on Sunday and worked on making the house (dogs bedecked with bows included) festive and beautiful for when I returned.  I was greeted at the door by two very happy, colorful canines and when I turned the corner into the dining area, I was further greeted with a bouquet of 40 multi-colored tulips (my wedding flower) which were sitting next to a lovely tropical arrangement courtesy my friend, Nora, and Bodega chocolates from my Candymoto.  Chocolate covered strawberries were in the mix, and a flourless chocolate cake made especially for me by my daughter (I am still living the ‘gluten-free’ regimen I began a while back) was wafting its dark decadence my way.  They even had my favorite Brazilian music playing in the background.  And because it was lunch time, they were both ready and awaiting the go ahead from me to order my favorite ‘gluten-free’ pizza which they picked up, payed for, and delivered to our backyard Shangri La…the one which I requested spend the rest of the day basking in.  In fact, that was my one request; for mother’s day I had hopes of sitting by the pool reading, playing cards, or just visiting with my children and husband.  Others were welcome as long as I didn’t have to wear my ‘happy hostess’ chapeau and could lounge until I was all lounged out.  Turns out it was just us four until Esther had to leave for work and then it was three.  🙂

Now a couple of comedic errors–well ironic really– occurred during time I was enjoying my blessing shower.  One, I received two Happy Mother’s Day cards from the two women who served as my maternal coaches.  The only problem was that I was so focused on my needing the day to do whatever it was (or wasn’t) I wanted that I forgot I had two very special women deserving of my time and energy.  Thus in the course of my forgetfulness and self focused mind, I failed to send them a reminder of their special place within my heart and life leaving them only to chomp upon the bitter pill of a phone call from me.  My other ironic chastisement came when I read a 2012 daily devotional for the date of ‘Dia de Madres’, for from it I learned of the proverbial wife and mother referred to by the name of, ” The Proverbs 31 Woman”.  She is not necessarily new to me for I had heard of her ways and means some years back, though I confess to have cast the lesson she portrays to the side for I have no interest in rising before dawn and working in the fields.  But here I was, once again, facing the lesson of this particular female as recorded in scripture many years past.  And by again learning of this selfLESS female from long ago, I concurred I am most definitely not her…just ask my two moms!

Even so, this past Wednesday I again enjoyed the gift of my children, the gift of our home, the gift of time, the gift of rest, and the gift of laughter.  All of which was unexpected, but superbly fulfilling just the same.  Cole, Esther, and I laughed our heads off in the morning as we dipped all kinds of foods in chocolate and ate till our stomachs refused another morsel.  I baked muffins and they both entertained me in the kitchen.  We lay by the pool, we napped, and we swam.  We listened to music and shouted absurdities at each other with such mirth we had to take pause only to reclaim the air to our lungs so we could carry on some more.  And the only reason our soiree came to an end was because Esther had to get herself off to her job–leaving Cole and I to wrap up the good time without her.  Which we did (with Brian who returned home from work and joined us poolside), until the makings of our evening meal required my attention and the ‘norm’ of the familial routine resumed.

While I know I am not a “Proverbs 31 Woman”  (nor do I have the slightest aspiration to be so for my stamina forbids it), I am a blessed mother and wife just the same.  I am graced with thoughtful and kind children and a loving and dynamic husband.  Besides, the daily devotional was written by a man; what could he possibly know about being a wife and mother? 🙂

So, do you know what I want to be when I grow up?  I already am what I would choose to be.

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Pushing Mediocre

10 May

I admit it, I am in a serious battle!  The battle?  Fighting mediocrity.  Not for me, mind you.  For my son, and for my daughter.  For my son, Cole, the medicinal world wants to offer him a text book answer.  My job is to not accept the pat answer, but to advocate for my son’s life, and in the process challenge the doctors who come our way to get off of the chair and investigate the options.  For my daughter, the adolescent world wants to chew her up and spit her out “common”.  “Common” meaning devoid of her spark, her gifts, and her standards.  My job is to encourage her to rise above the robotic thinking of the teenaged mind, while providing her solid truths to keep her focused on the bigger picture–the adventure of life.

Today, Cole and I met with a neuro-opthamalogist.  It was a long awaited appointment.  Cole’s most significant sufferings come from the problems with his eyes.  All of which are present due to the cranial nerve damage resulting from the tumor resection.  In fact, because of Cole, I have learned so much about the anatomy of the eye–and how integral moisture is to its health.  Our tears are paramount to the entire functionality…more accurately, the physical functionality of the eye ball itself.  But let me tell you, if your physicality of the eye is impaired, guess what?  So is your vision.  So keeping Cole’s eyes lubricated is of great importance and him not producing tears is a real, and serious problem.  Yet the only solution offered today, from the “specialist”, was to insert gold weights into the eyelid to help bring the upper lid down, thus covering more surface area of the eye, which would help hold in the artificial tears Cole uses every 15-20 minutes (in addition to the gel he uses in the morning and at at night and on breezy or windy days).

Gold eyelid weights…a pat answer.  We’ve heard it before–we’ve perused the thought, the practicality of the procedure, and the risks and benefits.  Been there.  So I asked the doctor today, “Is that all you’ve got, really?”  He looked at me a bit bewildered.  Then I probed his superbly intellectual mind for possibilities.  “So doctor, tell me, is Cole’s Lacrimal gland still producing tears?”  His answer, “yes”.  So I continue, “Then let’s explore how we, actually you because you are the one with the knowledge, the gifts, and the access, can find a way to bypass the non-functioning cranial nerve five and redirect the signal via another route.  In other words, if the tears are being produced but just lacking a messenger to tell them to fill the eye, let’s find another messenger.”  And since I was fired up from having a lovely cup of coffee before our appointment, and because Cole was lower than low due to exhaustion and an hour wait to see this specialist, I continued my probing…  “What about accessing liquid from the salivary glands and channeling them up to the eyes?  Or is there a way to utilize the flow from the naso-lacrimal duct?”  (FYI: because of having such a long wait for the doctor, I was able to study the eye anatomy chart for quite some time, much to the ‘surprise’ of our specialist I’m sure!)  At any rate, as I was spewing out ideas with the impetus being “hey, this is a twenty-one year old kid with his whole life ahead of him and all you’re going to offer is gold eyelid weights?”, something began to stir withing our long awaited neuro-opthamalogist.  He all of a sudden had a spark in his own eye–the spark of excitement.  He began to see the box in which he sat, and it was as if, simultaneous to my denouncing of it, he began to tear it down himself.  The possibility of looking beyond the mediocrity of the day was stirring within him.  And you know what?  This story is just beginning.  We are off the line, wheels are turning, engines revved and running.  But as every seasoned driver knows, there are road blocks ahead.  And they pose no problem.  For we will meet them and challenge their presence…or at least I will, and by default, the I turns to we.

In addition to the aforementioned innovative process, the mere excitement which comes from bouncing ideas off of one another builds trust and confidence within the working party.  And as a result, Cole was set up with a product that was entrusted to us in a “hush hush, closed door” type of manner.  A product that usually takes quite a while to procure for patients due to its high cost and low demand.  A product which could aid in the regeneration of brain to eye communication–for that, we are keeping our fingers crossed!

The final step of today’s appointment was that we were to be given instructions for a nighttime patching system.  Now as we were wrapping up the already extensive meeting with the doctors (yes, we had more than one toward the end of our visit), I was given a gift.  The pay off, if you will.  For instead of having to endure more time in the clinic than was already invested, the specialist turned to his associate and said, “I have no doubt these two know exactly how to put it on (the patch system).  I trust them;  just get them the supplies.”

We are settling NOT for mediocrity, the ordinary, nor the average–which is why I must drink more coffee!

A fitting funny courtesy, “NYCitylights.wordpress.com”

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Crystallized

8 May

Through the generosity of an anonymous source, Brian and I (Cole, Esther, and friends that came to visit while we were there), had the privilege of spending a few days at Crystal Cove state park in Laguna Beach–a couple weeks back.  Crystal Cove is a place fond to all of my maiden and Bent family.  Essentially, “the Cove”, as we call it, took part in molding and shaping each of my siblings and I into who we were, are, and will be.  I was born in 1970, the true year my family began (my humble estimation of course), but I am told my parents and the elder siblings ventured to our private coastal get away in the years preceding me.  As a child of the Cove, we had freedom that sadly my own children have not had the opportunity to experience.  It was a private beach and to ensure the privacy of its residents, Alan (and his little mutt of a dog “Ocious”–short for ferocious), patrolled the beach, the road, and the homes on foot (and bike) with a shotgun under his arm or slung over his shoulder.  I don’t remember having boundaries of any sort while there.  I’m sure, in my infancy and toddler-hood, I was more closely watched.  But as a child I had the uninhibited ability to roam the coast and tide-pools at my leisure…as did us all.  As an adolescent, the roaming continued even though the beach had lost its “privacy status” as it was traded from the Irvine family and given over to the state of California in 1979.  Even so, our mindset was that it was ours.  And Alan continued his antics though now the state park rangers had something to say about his shotgun totting ways.

Throughout my 42 years I have experienced love at the Cove, loss at the Cove, joy, sadness, adventure, little green men, perverse men fondling themselves in the crevices of the cliff, starfish, abalone, shells, dolphins, whales, sea lions, seagulls, pelicans, lobster traps, skunks, movie stars, common folk, driftwood, sea life, tar, splinters, stickers from plants, etc.

I have had every kind of holiday, through out the years, at the Cove.  Had sibling fights, watched siblings break things, like a foot and glass, jammed my toes on the boardwalk more times than necessary, fell in love, fell out of love, fell in love again.  Attended one, two, three–(whose counting?)–weddings.  Had parties, played volleyball, rode horses, lit fireworks, learned about drugs and the city of Newport jail, learned about chorizo and eggs, and had my first fruit smoothie in the Benson house.  I would go on, but at this point I am truly only indulging myself with the memories, and if I continue,  I will get lost and unable to find my way back to the point of this post!

Nowadays the homes are called cottages, and they are for rent to the general public.  So to treat my weary soul, my anonymous donor sent me and my family off to the Cove and we basked in the serenity of the sea life and the slow pace required to do “nothing”.  I confess that one day, when Brian and I were alone, we both felt awkward.  Mostly because we were both accustomed to having friends (whom we considered like family) to interact with, either at their home or on the beach.  So we found ourselves a bit uneasy, until the evening when several of the former residents had come to the Cove to celebrate the birthday of a mutual friend.  Finally, the hustle and bustle of catching up with friends and having people in and out made us calm down and rest–as was the intent of our being there.  And when the patriarch of the “Yacht Club” rustled the feathers of the park ranger, as was his custom when living there, I knew I was home.  But then the party was over and the group packed up and left.  Thankfully Esther and two friends showed up for a sleepover, so when we all awoke in the morning the house was full of life and interaction…just as I remember.

Which brings me to a place where I need to wrap up this writing.  I honestly don’t remember the original intent of my starting it.  Did I want to impart something profound about rest?  Was I going to simply share the experience?  Did I have a comedic angle?  …questions that will linger unanswered;  for life has again resumed at a rate too great for me to keep hold of.  So instead of conveying drops of wisdom or truth, I will simply leave with a photo collage of our few days respite at Crystal Cove State Park.  The locale of my formative years, and the locale my ashes will receive upon my departure from this world.  …it has served me well.

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