I Want My Own Life

Who was it that that opined, "I vant to be alone?". Garbo, right? Greta Garbo. She certainly had the right idea. I, too, just want to be alone. Don't get me wrong, I really do love me family. Immediate family, extended family, even the family dog. But being pulled in so many directions at the same time is really and sincerely wearing on me. When they want me...kids, husband, mother, the aforementioned dog...no one else will do. They need ME. I knew this going into marriage and parenthood and probably at my core I am happy to be so integral to everyone's life. But still -- if I am consumed to taking care of the world, who is taking care of me? In the last week or so the members of my family are getting sick one by one by one. Nothing life threatening, just some sort of chest cold, head cold, sinus infection deal. the sort of early fall illness that reminds you here in the Chicago area of who we dread 50% of our seasons. They lay on the couch and bark out orders for orange juice or magic meds. Clutching a box of tissue in one hand and an empty juice glass in the other, you can't help but cater to their pathetic needs. It's just what a Mommy does.

I glared at Bradley yesterday, taking a sick day from Larkin High School, and mused, "Now, who will take care me when I fall ill??". Because he was desperate for juice and a bit loopy from cold meds he claimed that the family would all rally 'round me. PUHLEASE! When I was pregnant with Paige and ordered to bed-rest, that didn't even seem to happen. I know they have the best of intentions, but everything still falls to Mom. Scott in particular is an amazing husband who would do literally ANYTHING that I want. But what I truly want is for him to read my mind and know instinctivly what I need. No one has to tell ME how to take care of THEM. Ya know?

When we moved into our new 2-story house 5 years ago the kids were amazed by the magic chute. Throw dirty clothes down there and VOILA...48 hours later crisp, clean clothing tucked into your dresser. DAMN IT, I NEED A MAGIC CHUTE! I can't tell you how many times I have pleaded to get a wife of my own! And when Scott and I bicker, nothing even bordering on divorce talk, I warn him, "Oh no you don't, mister! You are not leaving me alone with these kids...this house...the puking dog. You just buck up and we're gonna get this on track". And we do, we always do. That is what marriage and a partnership is all about.

So as I awaken this morning, my own throat scratchy, head foggy, a tickle lingering in the back of my throat I will do what I have always done -- just take care of myself. Just after I take this little nap...

And Then My Heart Stopped

I heard someone say once that having a child is like having your heart reside outside of your body. If I could recall who specifically said it, I certainly would give them proper attribution. At this point I really can not think of much of anything except the never ending health problems of my 15 year old baby. By all accounts Bradley was just a normal, mouthy, tall, cute and funny kid until the summer of 2006. He was complaining of leg pain which I primarily chalked up to "growing pains". I had read an article that firmly indicated that this truly does exist as a concept, so I told Bradley to shake it off. So it went for several days until my mother called me at work one day stating that Bradley could barely walk to the bathroom. Uh oh. As soon as I got home I took one look at the leg and it was considerably larger than the other. Be clear, Bradley was 13 at this point and I was no longer in the habit of inspecting his every limb. That sort of behavior begins to pass as soon as your kid hits elementary school. Regardless, he could not bear weight on his leg and a pained look would not fade from his blue eyed face. Fast forward a bit...trip to the pediatrician, admission to the hospital, and a diagnosis of an infection in the leg. The likely culprit was an infected toenail which Bradley has further infected with a dip into a tainted Michigan lake on a family getaway. Just as the infection seemed under control a clot developed in this leg. Life seemed to move in fast forward at this point, which included an emergent ambulance ride to Children's Memorial Hospital in Chicago for further specialized care. Even thinking of it now, it seems so very surreal. A bit more fast forwarding...the illness eventually seemed to resolve itself, but during the course of the next two years the leg remained swollen. We were told that this was par for the course, but we were also told that blood clots in kids is so rare that a firm treatment plan and expectation for the future was hard for the MDs to wrap their arms around. We take him again to the pediatrician just last week and this is when things take a shift. This doctor thinks that the swelling in the leg is unrelated to the clot and that there may be a completely alternative diagnosis (this is, of course, in addition to the blood clot and not in lieu of it). In rapid succession this guy start spewing words at me like Hematology, genetic disorder, Geneticist, possible kidney issues, adrenal cancer and more than I can care to remember. I frantically tried to take notes, but I could barely keep the pen in my hand or my thoughts in focus. And this is where we stand today -- between that trip to the pediatrician and the visit to the Hematologist this Friday. Bradley is depressed and frightened. Terror and concern and panic do not even seem to be large enough words for what I am feeling. I am overwhelmed and I am scared. Don't tell Bradley, though, as I am supposed to be the strong one. However, I feel weak and vulnerable. I feel like Mommy can not fix it all. I want answers, yet I want to plug my ears like a 5 year old and create another reality in my mind. This blessed little boy...little man...is still my baby.