Rushing for life experiences when chronic illness fuels your fears

I’ve had the great fortune to travel regularly throughout my life.

I enjoyed those pivotal vacation experiences of a happy middle class childhood: a couple of trips to Disneyland and bragging rights about having flown on airplanes and crossed a national border or two, if only to near neighbors Mexico and Canada.

I attended college in a different region from Home. I flew cross country at least four times a year because of this one fact. I built my desire to see the world into my educational plans, and it worked out well for me.

I didn’t even mind long distance romances in my youth, because what could offer better motivation for frequent trips? I love having a journey coming up in my calendar.

Later, working as a software engineer, I had the privilege of visiting subcontractor sites in Denmark and Spain on my employer’s dime. At the same time, I was a single, adequately employed young adult during the roaring 1990’s before the dot.com bubble burst.

For as long as I’ve had the option, I’ve traveled regularly, and I’ve enjoyed most of it. I dream of “seeing the world.” I’ll be grateful for every corner that I reach.

Yet, in spite of all this to-ing and fro-ing, there has been a certain rhythm to my rambling. At my youthful peak, I was not a high energy traveler. As a middle aged mother with a couple of kids in tow, my pace is typically sedate, and I prioritize comfort and convenience over the heights of adventure.

Looking back over our family travels, a pattern emerges. Every few years, we’ve had a “grand adventure.” How grand is Grand has changed with our finances and family status, but it’s always been a cycle of plan, anticipate, then go.

Maybe Go! with a capital and an exclamation mark expresses it better.

“But lately something’s changed, it ain’t hard to define…”* Or, rather, it isn’t hard to unearth the cause of the shift. I’m scrambling. I’m rushing. I’m tumbling from one trip to another without enough time to fully digest each experience.

Some of my trips bump up hard enough against the next that I feel more overwhelmed than anticipatory.

I know why I’m doing it, too. I’m afraid.

I’ve been saying yes to one trip after another because I’m afraid it will be my last chance to travel before I’m sidelined by infirmity and pain. Continue reading

Sandwich generation: no, it’s not my mother’s or my daughter’s

The “sandwich generation” is a constantly moving target of those adults sandwiched between caring for children still at home and parents needing more assistance as they age.

Getting dressed this morning, I noticed that I first used “Not [My] Mother’s” shampoo, then I put on “Not [My] Daughter’s Jeans.” I feel well and truly labeled as a woman living in the current sandwich generation.

I dislike these brand names. Nope, they aren’t my daughter’s. They’re mine! I use the products in spite of their mildly offensive branding because they meet my needs.

I do find NYDJ denim fits me better than most* other jeans I’ve tried on throughout my life. This was especially true during the ultra low rise trend of the early aughts when I found the “pants falling down” sensation of low riders utterly unbearable.

It was also true of my teenaged and young adult self, however. I was frustrated when trying to buy stylish clothes to fit my figure before I was old enough to drive. They sure as hell wouldn’t have been my daughter’s jeans then, but they would have fit!

I used to blame myself and my “defective” figure; I’m now very well aware that the clothing itself is to blame. My figure, whether slightly overweight or at a healthy level of fitness, is exactly what it’s designed by my genetics to be, and that includes an above average abundance of hips.

Trends in preferences for ladies’ figures come and go, but the wide diversity of shapes and sizes of human beings stays more constant. It comes down to pure luck whether you are a narrow waif or a busty bombshell at the right time to rock the latest popular fashions.

My pants—and my shampoo, for that matter—are anything but generational markers. I resent this kind of marketing because it buys into and perpetuates the steady stream of bigotry that is ageism and generational warfare. It’s loathsome stuff.

How many articles have you seen recently about snowflake Millennials and their personal failings? Perhaps you’ve read a few about the entitled Baby Boomers and their legacy of poverty for the rest of us?

Sure, there are trends that can be seen, in hindsight, to identify a group in a certain time and place. Allowing yourself a similar set of assumptions about an individual standing before you is prejudice, plain and simple, and it serves no one when acted upon.

My mother’s shampoo is a very good one, and, if my hair were color treated like hers, it would work well for me, too. I share her fine hair texture, though mine is straighter.

And, if I had a daughter, she might well have inherited my hard-to-fit lower body. If so, I suspect she would be grateful to pull on a pair of jeans that didn’t gap at the waist, no matter how uncool the brand name.

I am living in a sandwich generation. For all its occasional inconveniences, I’m grateful for the gift of my children, though they do require my time and care. I’m happy for the privilege of having elders still with us to share their love and wisdom with those same kids, and with us, too, though more and more often they are turning to us for practical support.

This isn’t a new thing; it’s an ancient role. We’ve complicated it by breaking up the extended family and living in isolated nuclear bunches, but human lives are bounded by periods of frailty.

The very young and the very old are precious resources for us all. They may require more of our time and assistance, but our entire society benefits when someone makes these “sacrifices.” At its most base, this is reassurance that, I, too, will be cared for when I am no longer able to care for myself. And at its pinnacle, it is altruistic love that represents the height of human empathy, compassion, and potential for goodness.

*FYI: the vastly less expensive Riders by Lee also work very well for wide hips with a narrow waist. I can buy five pairs of the Lee jeans for the same money as a single pair of NYDJ jeans. Overall longevity is similar, though the NYDJ details are superior. Look how much better the much older stitched brand label on the NYDJ pair has held up than Lee’s printed logo, below. NYDJ also offers more and trendier styles.

We aren’t REALLY talking about pants today, but I’m always willing to share this kind of knowledge with other women seeking pants that fit.

Jeans Riders by Lee - 1

I order my Lee jeans from Amazon. Most of my NYDJ jeans are purchased from Nordstrom during the annual Anniversary Sale.

Flu

Just one word: flu.

I never use one word when one thousand will do, so, naturally, I will elaborate.

As if winter’s lingering darkness and New England’s coldest temperatures in years weren’t enough, we have to add widespread influenza infection to the list of legitimate complaints for still nascent 2018.

If my local children’s librarian* is to be believed, our corner of our state is the hardest hit in the area with this more-severe-than-average flu.

My situation isn’t even so bad. We are a house divided: only one of us has flu. I’m hunkering down with the sick one while DH keeps his distance and manages the healthy one. They leave us trays of food outside the door and occasionally send word about the outside world.

flu gear - 2The good news is that we have space enough to almost completely quarantine the sick kid. He hasn’t been downstairs for several days. Our over-the-top 1980s house came complete with a wet bar in the spacious master bedroom; between the mini fridge and the microwave, I can cover most of our needs without venturing forth myself.

We’re also lucky that the vicious cold spell is over. I can crack a window for ventilation between the child’s Petri dish of a nest and my frequently wiped down seat on the other side of the room. He isn’t lonely, and I haven’t caught the Plague yet. The separate heating zone for this room also assuages some of my guilt about sending so much heat literally out the window.

The bad news is that it’s the kid with the underlying condition making flu particularly dangerous that caught it.**

The doctor didn’t even want me to bring him in, citing the risk of exposure for others. He called in a prescription for Tamiflu and told me to plan on spending four to five days at home. The drug is the best thing medicine has got for reducing flu symptoms, but it only knocks half a day or so off the illness’s expected duration.

flu gear - 1Since the only side effect we’ve noticed is mild nausea and the evidence suggests Tamiflu reduces my son’s risk of hospitalization, I have no regrets about following this course of action.

An interesting aside: my husband’s doctor recommended getting the nasal swab flu test, but the pediatrician did not want to risk exposing others at a medical facility. DH’s internist would also have prescribed Tamiflu as a preventative to the rest of our household. The pediatrician did ask if my other son needed an Rx, too, but didn’t suggest Tamiflu for the adults.

We generally prefer to avoid taking drugs until they are absolutely necessary, so none of the rest of us are taking antiviral medication, but I found the variety of approaches interesting.

I should add here that, though I have a chronic illness, I am not considered immunocompromised at this point. If I were, I would take the Tamiflu without argument; as it is, I will play the odds.

We’ve increased the dosage on my son’s usual meds as directed, and I know the danger signs of severe illness for which I should watch, but the primary treatment for my sick kid is the same as for the rest of us unlucky enough to catch the flu: plenty of fluids and lots of rest at home.

I’m keeping myself sane by the following means:

  • Alphabears app on my iPad ~ the best word game I’ve played since my paid version of Bookworm stopped being supported after wretched EA bought innovative game developer PopCap.
  • Skullduggery Pleasant audiobooks ~ a great story that amuses both mom and child in the sickroom, but my older son had to jump through hoops to get the later books since they were only released in the UK. Read what you can get your hands on here in the USA, then agitate for the rest of Derek Landy’s series to be readily available where ever it is wanted.
  • Refining my packing list—and taking photos of same—for an upcoming trip that I will blog about after the fact ~ if you see better than usual pics after my next big adventure, you can thank 100 hours or so of enforced idleness wherein the closet became a welcome break from the monotony of the bedroom.
  • Wiping down doorknobs, light switches, and remote controls with disinfectant ~ okay, so that one isn’t so much fun as functional, but it does keep my brain occupied. “What did the child touch?” Right. Just about everything. Sigh.

Stay healthy, dear readers!

Wash yours hands often, or use hand sanitizer. Humidify your air if it approaches arid arctic conditions. The influenza virus is weakened at normal to high humidity levels aim for 50% RH***, and simple soap and water or the alcohol in sanitizer are sufficient to deactivate it on your skin before you transfer it to your vulnerable mucus membranes (i.e., nose and mouth, where the virus usually gets in.)

And if you do get sick with the flu, please, stay home until you’re no longer contagious.

Not sure if it is just a cold or the dreaded flu? Call your doctor!

If you’re not willing or able to do that, your best clues are:

  • sudden onset of symptoms,
  • severity of symptoms, and
  • presence of a fever.

When in doubt, stay home while sick. You are most contagious during the first few days with influenza.

If you have flu, you are spraying a cloud of virus into the surrounding environment with every breath. The person standing next to you could have a compromised immune system or a preemie at home.

Keep your germs to yourself. Let’s all work together so that this flu season winds down soon.

*I didn’t ask if she’d used her librarian superpowers to find out this fact, or the same gossip mere mortals employ to assess epidemic illness trends, so that might just be hearsay. As it served my preexisting notions, I just assumed she was correct.

**When I called his school to let them know he would be out sick, I learned that several other children from his class had the same symptoms. Ah, children. They’re the cutest little vectors for disease.

***Relative Humidity

Goodnight 2017; welcome 2018

Tonight’s cocktail is an elderflower liqueur and sparkling wine treat.

New Year cocktail - 1My favorite thing about this drink is the soft, floral sweetness of the elderflower liqueur. Thank you, St. Germain, for relieving me of the need to harvest my own elderflower heads in the spring.

My husband does, in fact, have at least one elderberry bush in our yard. His only interest in gardening is the production of edible berries! I’ll be honest and admit that I’m not sure that, if I harvest its flowers, it will still produce his berries.

If I write about divorce come late summer, this may be the instigator.

A very near second is the simplicity of throwing in a few berries—I’ve used both blueberries (tonight) and cranberries (a Christmas party)—which result in a fancy looking beverage with a minuscule amount of effort.

I’m a big fan of zero effort.

I’m using dry cava because I traveled to Spain recently. Specifically, we visited El Pla del Penedès, and that’s where the best cava is born if my host is to be believed. And my experience suggests that she should be believed!

All of my best wishes for a healthy, happy, and prosperous 2018 to everyone reading.

Thanksgiving lessons learned: one mom’s (grateful) battle to enjoy labor-intensive holidays

I love that Thanksgiving reminds me to take stock and be thankful for the abundance of blessings in my life. I am blessed. I am thankful. I’m grateful for a holiday devoted to that awareness.

Thanksgiving give thanks - 1But then there is the reality of celebrating Thanksgiving in America as a mom. It involves a lot of cooking, a lot of shopping, and a lot of stress.

Let’s all keep in mind that I’m not a great cook. I can produce reasonably healthy and palatable food for my family; I don’t enjoy cooking.

Shopping the gauntlet

I start shopping right after Halloween. I buy the wine as early as possible for obvious reasons. I pick up our family celiac’s favorite gluten free stuffing mix from Trader Joe’s as soon as it arrives for the season.

Pantry goods are easy to buy ahead of the rush, and doing so helps spread out over multiple weeks the costs of a sit down dinner for 20.

I’m grateful for Amazon Fresh delivering my last minute, fresh foods on the day before Thanksgiving. Grocery stores are hellish just before this holiday! Having the items I want dropped off right to my door is a Really Wonderful Thing.

We enjoy seasonal, local bounty direct from family-owned farms in New England via Farmers To You. This year ’round service is especially gratifying as the autumn harvest rolls in. I’ve posted before about my commitment to support our regional food shed with my grocery dollars.

A humanely raised turkey from Misty Knoll Farms as the centerpiece of our feast is something I’m proud to feed my family and friends.

Cleaning the house

As we catalogue my faults, let’s remember that I’m not much of a housekeeper, either. Hosting a large meal raises certain expectations for minimizing the usual daily clutter. Having out of town relatives to stay means prepping the guest room and the downstairs bathroom, too.

I have to confess: this year, I didn’t get as much done as I’d have liked to prepare for houseguests. I struggled to forgive myself for that, but I used up every iota of energy that I had prepping for Thanksgiving in other ways, choosing to prioritize the feeding of 20 people from seven households over the immediate comforts of close relatives.

I’m grateful that I’ve gotten better at acknowledging my limits; I’ll keep working on accepting those limitations with grace.

Planning on the level of a precision strike

The only way a less-than-stellar cook is going to get a meal for twenty on the table in something resembling good time is to create a plan that incorporates all the prep and cooking times for multiple recipes and integrate them temporally. Continue reading

Holiday wishes for readers of every stripe: why I may wish you Happy Hanukkah, Merry Christmas, and Good Yule, too

Looking forward to a holiday season that promises merriment and stresses, joys and missed opportunities, I send my sincere wishes for a healthy, happy, well-balanced Celebration of Your Choice to every reader.

X New Year - 1

Beginnings of a feast to welcome the New Year

Contrary to what some pundits believe, I am not partaking in a “War on Christmas.” I just happen not to be one of the Americans who makes a Christmas holiday in her home. I am delighted by the fact that so many do, however, and honored to be invited to participate in Christmas and alternate holiday parties held by friends, family, and my community.

I cherish every card I receive wishing me the best, whether the sender is joyfully recounting the birth of Jesus or illuminating the darkness in remembrance of a miracle of light. Some of the greetings are silly cartoons and puns, and I like those laughs, too.

I’m especially fond of the irreverent ones because they tickle my fancy, though I don’t think most who know me would accuse me of a lack of reverence in my personal or spiritual conduct.

Xmas - 1

Ёлка (yolka)

I even appreciate the commercial cards from my dentist or the auto repair shop, especially when an employee took the time to sign his name; it may be advertising, but it is also a human expression in an age when some would call corporations “citizens.” Ahem. It’s an effort to spread joy. I’m all in favor of that.

Counting your blessings, sharing glad tidings, and lighting up the darkness are Really Wonderful Things.

I begrudge no one her wish to draw her family close and celebrate the season as she sees fit; I wish for everyone the comfort of being embraced by his family and friends during these darkest days of the year.

It is human nature to need a bright and warm “coming together” in the heart of winter. I hope every reader finds that, whether the bosom that welcomes you is secular or holy, crowded or solitary.

May each of us find the love we need to keep our spirits lifted, now and going forward.

And I pray for extra doses of relaxation to find their way to all of us who join in multitudinous cultural festivals due to the rich complexity of our intermingled lives. Let all the in-laws and outlaws* revel together in harmony this season.

Shalom! Peace be with you and yours. Happy holidays. Blessed be.

X Hanukkah - 1

Homemade hanukkiahחַנֻכִּיָּה, only slightly flammable. Adult supervision required!

 *Outlaws may be a distant possibility unless you celebrate a real, old-fashioned Saturnalia. Enjoy a law-abiding holiday season… unless you are living in place that suppresses your religious freedom. Secret personal observances in defiance of culture police? Yes. Drunk driving? No!

Expressing appreciation while we can: exponential blessings

I think it is a wonder that our facile brains let us forget how lucky we are.

We should all cultivate gratitude, but it isn’t always easy. Modern media showers us with glimpses into lives so luxurious that even overfed Americans have room to feel hungry. We adapt so readily to both ease and discomfort that almost any conditions are bearable by the almost infinitely flexible human being.

I’m thinking along these lines because of a revelation from a friend. I won’t go into the details of someone else’s story, but suffice to say that a person whose company I enjoy has had a rather significant change in the fundamental status of her life.

I learned about this on Thanksgiving day.

Thanksgiving turkey cookie - 1Between the early morning “raw turkey wrangling” hours and the pre-dinner “just in time” food prep marathon, I spent a few minutes beginning a post about the amount of work that a traditional Thanksgiving meal entails. It is a great holiday, and I like it a lot, but it is easy to overlook the awesome scale of effort involved before you host your first dinner party for 20.

I was feeling a little pleased with myself; I liked the tone I’d struck in the piece. Mildly ironic, just how I like it, and a little funny and self-deprecating, but with a healthy dose of gratitude and awareness of my unreasonable bounty of blessings.

Seriously, no one person should get as much as I’ve got. That husband! Those sons! An embarrassment of riches!

And then came this short conversation, late in the day, with this friend of mine. It was a shock. In many ways, life will never be the same for the parties involved. It was nothing I was expecting on that Thursday afternoon. I thought my worries were oven once the meal had been served.

As a result, you get to read a rather enigmatic post that reveals nothing too personal about some stranger who can start her own blog if she wants to talk about her stuff… Yet I could not skip saying something about this.

I have to make this one point. I need to do it now.

Today is precious. The people around you are treasures to be recognized and enjoyed* while you have them. It can all change on a dime, and much of it is well beyond our mortal control.

Thank your wife. Love your children. Tell someone how much you appreciate them, or what they’ve done for you, or how they’ve impacted your life and made it better.

Life is too short; our memories can be, too. Try never to make the mistake of leaving gratitude, and good tidings, and loving gestures until they are too late.

Reach out today, and share your emotional wealth.

No one has ever said, “Gee, what a waste of time it was that I told so&so I loved her.” Regrets, however, abound.

*Though it is true: some treasures are better left where you found them. They will be discovered, and cherished, by someone else. But I will stand by this statement: every person is a treasure beyond measure.

Misspelled name tag: this failure represents fundamental ignorance in use of modern tools

When considering large events manned by many dedicated planners, is there ever an excuse for failing to copy and paste a user’s digital registration information for the production of printed physical name tags?

In the second decade of the 21st Century, why am I still walking into events to find my name misspelled on a slip of paper? This is ostensibly my introduction to a crowd of strangers. I think it is fairly important to get this right.

I registered electronically for an event at a major institution. My name was entered into a database via my own keystrokes.

Is it possible that I made a mistake, either in spelling or in accurately hitting the keys?

Yes.

Is that likely?

No.

Most probable is the scenario wherein a clerk was given a list of names from which to generate the event’s badges.

Maybe someone else printed out the list of names from that database that resided on an internet connected computer. That can only be regarded as a waste of paper, unless those names were going to be cut apart by hand(!) and physically glued onto cardstock or labels.

The names were not adhered onto tags for this event.

I can’t even imagine a scenario in which a printed list would be superior to an electronically transmitted or digitally shared copy when the end result is to be printed out by machine onto cards as was the case here.

The computer is a tool, and a powerful one. Reference is often made to digital natives with the implication that familiarity has bred competence.

Though computer use is now ubiquitous by all segments of society, it is clear that many people remain fundamentally ignorant as to how best to make use of one. A shocking number seem unable to even make good use of these familiar devices.

This may be acceptable when a fast food cashier taps at pictographs representing burgers and fries and mindlessly gives change in amounts calculated by the computerized register, but is this level of abstraction from functionality acceptable in professional office staff?

Comfort does not equal competence.