putting the dys in dysfunctional

Any of you loyal readers, like really loyal longtime readers, might remember when I wrote about my Dad last fall and the heart trouble he was having. I never elaborated on the results of his angioplasty, or our visit that weekend, because I often close myself off from things when they become overwhelming. It's comfortable for me. It's why bulimics binge until they're going to puke and then do puke (did that merry go round off and on for 12 years- total waste of money and yummy sweets), or anorexics starve themselves skeletal or alcoholics drink. Self medication can be a wonderful way of sticking your head in the sand when life becomes emotionally overwhelming. When we had visited my Dad back in October my Aunt wouldn't even open the door to see us. My Aunt has never seen my children. While I knocked on the door to the one bedroom apartment, in a run down building in a run down city, Cleveland, where my Dad has been living with her for 5 and a half years, there was no answer. Toby started to swell with anger, rightfully so, thinking we had driven 2 1/2 hours to see my Dad and he wasn't even at home. We called him on his cell and he met us out in the front yard where he ranted about his sister being terrible and how poorly he'd been treated by her during his health crisis. My Dad being who he is, I can never know just what the truth is. And, hey, if I had siblings I don't know that I'd let one live in my tiny one bedroom with me for five plus years. Suffice it to say that weekend had it's ups, seeing my Dad and taking the kids to the children's museum, and downs, spending the majority of the weekend in our cramped hotel suite watching cable tv and waiting for Oona to collapse from exhaustion.

My father's heart trouble turned out to be dilated cardiomyopathy, which is associated with alcoholism. But the medication he was taking was improving his condition. He was out to see us for a long weekend at the end of February, when I finally gave him his Christmas gifts, which was better than last year when we didn't see him for close to nine months, and seemed to be doing well. So imagine my surprise when I find out the call Toby took before dinner last night was my aunt letting Toby know that my Dad has been in the hospital for the past week because he's had a bad cough and has lost a lot of weight since we saw him. At that point I was feeling like, I'm never going to fit into the adult world because I constantly feel immature. I process things like a teenager, although, believe me, my pores and sagging jowls are telling me otherwise. I was overwhelmed to the point that I wanted to run up to my bedroom, slam the door and sulk, very teen angst. Sadness, for my Dad's condition, frustration, because my Dad thinks it's better not to worry me with pressing details like he's been in the hospital for a week and never even let me know he wasn't feeling well and a lot of anger, at my Dad. Oh yeah, I was angry at myself too and feeling very guilty. I should have called him earlier. I should have known about this.

I got my Dad's version of things on the phone when I talked to him that evening. I asked him to have his GP call me, if he was okay with that, so I could get a better sense of what was going on. My Dad's version is the optimistic, chain-smoking, alcoholic's version. It doesn't look like cancer, I haven't drank for six months now and haven't smoked for a month or so now (neither of which I believe) so I think it's just some infection that I'll beat and come out stronger than ever. I am dumbfounded by this hope, is he just saying it to allay my fears or his own or is he truly deluded enough to believe what he's saying? I spoke with his doctor this morning who told me that they couldn't get the results they wanted from the bronchoscopy due to bleeding (Dad's version - bronchoscopy results showed no cancer), he had a pet scan that lit up in his lungs (Dad tells me he lit up everywhere indicating some systemic type infection), he's responding well to the antibiotics which is good. He probably has an infection but they want to due a biopsy given his history of smoking and the sudden weight loss are indicative of lung cancer. I said to the doctor, 'You know that he's also an alcoholic. I know that can increase your chance of cancer. He hasn't lived a healthy lifestyle.' He responds that they know he hasn't been leading a healthy lifestyle. I feel awful, like I've exposed my Dad and really, is it useful to school the doctor on increased risk of cancer in alcoholics? But I want them to know the truth about him and what they're dealing with. I am not good at many things. I am not outgoing or optimistic. I am extremely judgmental. I have very few friends. But I am loyal and honest and however fucked up my family is I know the importance of being there when someone needs help. It's why I wanted my Grandma here in Pittsburgh and why I get so angry at my aunts and, to a certain extent, my Mom with they way they treat her. It's why I feel so bad learning things late about my Dad, there's a very helpless feeling when dealing with an addict, and wondering how much time he has left.

chocolate madness

Owen and Oona had a great time going on an egg hunt Easter morning. Owen was so excited he woke up way too early in anticipation of what the Easter bunny left him, but I was able to keep him in bed until 7:30. They collected eggs and Owen found the special egg with directions to their easter baskets, well an, easter purse for Oona. I got them both peeps, which Owen called chicklings. They both were transfixed by how the peeps looked but they didn't really like the taste of them all that much. I understand that feeling. When I was young I always wanted to have a cone with Daquiri ice from Baskin Robbins because I thought it was the most lovely shade of green. Alas, after each taster scoop of Daquiri ice (I tried it for years) there was no way I could commit to eating a whole scoop of that stuff, however pretty the color it was wretched.

Owen got a few playmobil figures, I couldn't resist buying him this cop and robber set (this guy took a great photo of the package on flickr). The figures are very deranged, so disturbing in so many ways. So, naturally, I couldn't resist buying them. I bought Oona a Hello Kitty umbrella, because she's been quite jealous of Owen's Batman umbrella. This just winds up being yet another thing for her to drive me crazy with, going into the dresser in the hallway to get her umbrella and play with it inside. I only have myself to blame

What will I do when the kids are old enough to realize that it's me that's rapidly depleting their chocolate supply from Easter, Halloween, Christmas? I am a chocolate addict and I need help. But I seriously don't think I can go a day without the stuff, it's like my version of crack, that and coffee.


Oona's caught snacking on m&m's from her egg. Easter Sunday was all about three meals of chocolate for Oona.


The S&M homoerotic cop and robber set that somehow squeaked through Playmobil production and into Target

the good, the bad and the ugly

The good? I'm famous! Well, not really, but I'm in print. No, it's not my debut novel but I did get my letter to the editor published in April's Vogue. If you look for the letter, those of you who know me only through this blog will learn that the inherently cool sounding Amelia Plum is just a pseudonym for my more run of the mill Hitchcock actress meets Nascar driver real life name.

The bad? Spring break started today and I almost lost my mind before noon. How do you homeschoolers ever manage?! I took the kids to the zoo even though it was cold and windy but it seems like nothing is ever enough - Owen whines incessantly when the littlest thing doesn't go his way and Oona is the two year old steamroller, nothing is going to stop that girl. I think the parenting problem I face is that I let my kids walk all over me, but I will reach a critical boiling point (after a thousand no's, don't, stop it, get out of the kitchen) where I just start yelling about how ungrateful they are and it's horrible. It makes my soul feel like bile, I get so unsettled by it. I apologize to the kids but that's not good enough, it's not like you can take a giant blackboard eraser to the event.

The ugly? I never understood this one. My parents had the album of this movie and I was always so perplexed, 'who would want to be known as the ugly?' My feeling at the end of the day, like I'm the world's worst mother, I guess I'm the ugly now. After making dinner and giving the kids a bath (the photo is the little heathens ransacking my shoes before getting pj's on, Owen's totally working the camera) I ran over to the gym and lost myself in an episode of Law & Order: Criminal Intent while moving like a hamster on a wheel, except in my case it's a middle aged Mom on an elliptical. I find the formulaic Law & Order franchise and repetitive exercise perfect for depersonalizing from the bad feelings, for an hour at least.

Another ugly? Conservative talk show hosts who skewer Obama for his response to his pastor's racist comments. I've been on the fence with Obama or Clinton although, to be honest, I'm a democrat but even McCain would be a relief after Bush. I've read a lot on Obama, running the gamut from Vanity Fair to Foreign Affairs. After reading Obama's response to the whole Reverend Wright controversy I'm like, he's got my vote. Obama is intelligent and very thoughtful. He didn't want his campaign to be based on race but when forced he spoke of the racial problems in America with an eloquence and honesty that's lacking in most politicians. He didn't shy away from the whole matter and because he didn't disavow himself from Reverend Wright, even though he disagrees with what was said and his choice is not the easy one, I'm feeling major love for Obama right now.

Happy Easter everyone!

bite update

I fear I might have sounded a tad rash in my last post, like a mama mad max out on a mission for a four year old boy's hide. I called Owen's karate instructor yesterday and explained what happened with the bite and talked about him broaching the biting incident with the parent, if he felt comfortable with that. After sleeping on things I realized that I didn't want to approach the parent and make them feel uncomfortable or defensive and the only reason I want them to know is so they can try to curb the behavior before the biter gets in more trouble for biting or gets hurt because of his biting. So hopefully this will be his last attack. Poor Owen still has a bruise, that's roughly the size of his kneecap , this kid must have a large mouth for his age.

boy bites boy

So I'm giving Owen and Oona a bath tonight when I notice this mark on Owen's leg. At first I thought he had somehow given himself a hickey on his thigh but I don't know that's it's human possibly to do this to yourself. Then Owen told me a kid bit him in karate when they are all allowed to play and run around like maniacs at the end. I asked him if he cried or told anyone what happened and he said no to both. My son is very against being seen as a tattle tale so he tends not to say stuff to teachers when, I feel, he really should. He did tell the boy that he shouldn't bite, so reasonable at five, but I'm ready to kick some 4 to 6 year old butt, since I'm not as level headed as my son. Not really but I think that is completely out of control for a kid that old to bite him through his pants to the point that it would look like that. I asked Owen if he knew the kid's name and he said no when I asked him to describe him he said he had grey hair, I think Owen might have some degree of color blindness since I don't know of any kids with that hair color - he did say he'll point him out to me on Friday. I'm grateful that it didn't break the skin but my adrenaline is already racing for Friday when I take him to class and talk to the instructor and parent about what happened. And here I've spent all my energy worrying about dog bites.

purple belt

Owen tested for his purple belt last week when my Mom was in town. He had to do a front kick through a block of wood which he did without any problem. Some of the more advanced belts had to head-butt a block of wood, the kids were really excited to watch that, or else do very complicated 360 turn kicks. One poor kid could not get his block after many attempts but there's a lot of pressure what with all the parents watching and taking pictures, some parents are even videotaping the whole event. I tried to keep my picture taking to a minimum, one when he breaks the board and another when they all pose with their new color belts. I'm glad that Owen seems to still be enjoying karate but also taking it more seriously, he's a bit more focused and not staring off into space or playing with the wall any more.

This past friday I brought the kids to class and got to see them practicing with their bo staffs (long pieces of pvc pipe wrapped in duct tape). They would take turns doing figure eights to confuse their opponent (more confusing to the one doing the figure eights as this seems pretty tricky for the 4 to 6 years olds) before striking above their opponent's head, the opponent is supposed to have his/her bo staff above their head to deflect the strike. They would also do high blocks and low blocks and take turns swinging the opponents staff out of the way. This was like a dream come true for the kids, being allowed to fight with big sticks, and an absolute nightmare for me to watch. Owen kept holding his bo staff like a baseball bat so his opponent would have to step forward to strike Owen's staff, which he did quite enthusiastically, and it was very close to Owen's head. Fortunately, they seem to be done with their bo staff training for now.

the donut

I didn't get a picture up yesterday because during my naptime drive Oona would not fall asleep. She kept crying while I was driving and I finally asked her if she'd stop if we went back home and got her dolly to which she said yes and then threw up. It was a lot of puke and very smelly and all over her car seat. I was trying to drive and check that she was alright when she hurled again and then I was about to hurl, the puke was so nasty smelling. We were only a few blocks from home so, naturally, we went there and Oona waddled up the front steps covered in puke while I carried her puke filled car seat inside. I stripped Oona and the car seat and threw everything in the wash, while I soaked the straps and buckle to the car seat in warm water. I was putting Oona into a pair of pj's when she started puking again, three more times, all over the living room carpet. Poor thing, she started saying 'crib' so I brought her upstairs, gave her a quick bath, dressed her in puke-free pj's and put her in her crib, where she asked me to turn on her nighlight, told me she was okay and promptly fell asleep. I was left with an hour and a half to clean up puke and get rid of the puke smell, by that point I felt like it was coming out of my pores, before getting Owen from school. It got on her seat in the car and the carpet too, ugh! I spent the whole time scrubbing living room carpet and the car. Thankfully, I found a neighbor to come over with her kids and sit at the house while Oona slept, so I could go pick up Owen, since her carseat wasn't clean yet I didn't know what else to do. This godsend of a neighbor took Owen to play with her daughter when we returned and I crashed for an hour still smelling puke between fitful napping. We're very fortunate in that whatever bug Oona got was short lived. She woke up right before Toby got home from work, well rested and happy as a clam. We only allowed her bland food the rest of the night but this morning she seemed back to her usual self so I indulged her. I know I shouldn't of after being sick such a short time ago, but she's my baby and loves those 'donuts with snow on top'. Can't say I blame her, I've been known to eat half a box in a sitting - horrible, I know.

the highs and lows of the devil's food crumb donut

the hound of the baskervilles

A literary friend of Toby's mentioned enjoying Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories years ago and I put it on the infinite 'to be read list' in my head and promptly forgot about it. But since the fall I've become obsessed with watching House. Toby's a bit perplexed by my love of House rightly stating that I would never be happy if I went to a doctor like that, but I tried to reason with him that my love of House is his eccentric id-driven brilliancy. What's not to love?! So I read that House is an homage of sorts to Sherlock Holmes and that moved Holmes back into my consciousness and the top of the book list. I enjoyed this book, it was a quick read and a page turner. The thing is, I feel like contemporary culture and the oversaturation of crime shows on TV sort of take the bite out of this book, a lot of the twists and turns are fairly transparent in this day and age. I mean the bit about the two stolen boots and then the unworn one is replaced is really obvious. The character and catch phrases of Holmes have a certain ubiquity that can make reading the original seem almost quaint. It's awful to say, but at times I was like, isn't that cute, wanting to give precocious Conan Doyle a pat on the head. Maybe I need to read the complete Sherlock Holmes stories to more fully appreciate him, I just didn't find this book terribly complex but it was an enjoyable read. Although I'd love to read a biography on Conan Doyle because I think his life story is fascinating and tragic, especially in light that a man, who's most famous character is known for stressing deductive logic, turned to believing in fairies after losing his son in the war.

the haircut

On Sunday Toby's brother and family came over for dinner. As I was putting the tortilla pie, quite yummy, in the oven, Travis mentioned that my haircut looked nice and when did I get it cut. I thanked him and told him last week ago, then made a quip about how Toby hadn't even noticed. But then I heard his wife commenting on Oona's cute haircut in the living room and thought to myself, he's not talking about my hair but Oona's. I mean obviously, I could grow a tail and I don't think anyone would notice. It came across as funny and sad, one of those moments that Lorrie Moore can write about in such a heartbreakingly beautiful way. No one cares about my hair, and to be honest my hair grows at such a glacial pace I can't really have any dramatic before and after looks unless I go super short. The only people that noticed the cut were my parents (Dad visited a couple weeks ago and Mom's here today thru Sunday) and a lady I'm acquainted with at the gym who has hair I'd kill for, so thick, shiny and a lovely rich shade of brown. It just seemed to sum up my occasional feelings of invisibility as a Mom who, let's face it, isn't getting any younger. It's all so pedestrian but that doesn't lessen the sting of being overlooked. I guess now's the time to crack into Madame Bovary, I'm kidding I read that book years ago and Ian McEwan is next on my list, my new fave.

happy mondays

Today was absolutely glorious. That tease of spring weather that will hit areas where winter drags on into April, causing people to show skin and act a little crazy, flush with the sudden warmth. Tomorrow it's supposed to rain all day, and become colder, and there's some other snow storm coming this way within the next few days, but going without a coat today was wonderful.

belated friday

Oh Friday, thank God you're three days gone. I had to pick up Owen early from school because the streets were so bad in the city with the snow. Some guy's car fishtailed coming to a stop sign outside the school. He almost ran into our car but it's not like that made him slow down any. Funny thing was, as soon as we crossed the bridge over to Aspinwall the streets were fine. I guess the city's plowers weren't prepared for the weather yet again, this is ongoing talk radio fodder here in the 'burgh. So, I got my brief kid reprieve at the gym, but it wasn't enough because I was karate carpool Mom that night. Driving to pick up Owen's friend my wheels spun going over the one hill to get her and I was stuck on the other hill trying to get out, until a plow drove by. I usually drive home to let Toby take the kids to karate while I stay home with Oona but the weather wouldn't allow it that night. Oona at karate is a nightmare. She lasted five minutes before she kept running onto the mat trying to join the big kids so I took her kicking and screaming, and punching me, out to sit in the car with me while we waited for the class to end. Owen's friend wound up staying over our house for the night, I didn't want to deal with getting stuck trying to drive her home. After scarfing down way too much food, to try and numb away the previous five hours, I watched a House rerun and called it a night.