Off The Hook!

I have been telling you of the adventures that the wee one and I had between somewhere in Virginia and Brooklyn, where we ended up.  But none of this happened in a vacuum and, though I live to have a life like an ABBA song or moments like I'm in The Sound of Music, the real deal is not as glamourous.  First of all, driving is very exhausting.  The adrenalin that came about from hearing the news of my aunt and the wee one and then rushing out to Virginia kept me going for a while, but when I lay down for the night, I was done!  All this time though, my phone kept ringing - it was the police, then the medical folk, then someone from social services (about the wee one), then friends of my aunt, then family.  What it was, was never ending.  I was getting questions I could not answer, requests for information I was hazy about, and advice, some of which was helpful and a lot of which I had no intention of following.

On Wednesday morning, when the wee one awoke in Virginia (in a home that was unknown to him) I picked him up and gave him a hug and then I continued to hold him as I chatted with the aunt from Virginia we were staying with.  As we chatted, I noticed a squeaking sound coming from the wee one.  I looked at him, curiously, as I tried to figure out what was going on.

"He's grinding his teeth," my aunt said.

"What?"  It was the sound of nails on a blackboard, how could this be coming from this little person? 

"Yes, he has been grinding them since we picked him up."

The sound was so painful to hear.  Still not quite believing it, I put my fingers against his cheeks and I could feel his teeth moving away.  A trick from my yoga class, for relaxing a clenched jaw, came to me.  "Wee One?"  He looked at me. "Open your mouth like this."  He opened his mouth wide for me.  "Okay, we need to keep doing this, alright?"  He looked at me but, for a bit, the grinding stopped.  It became a thing we did often.  Whenever we came across people he did not know, the grinding would begin.  I would just say his name and open my mouth; he would follow suit and the grinding would cease.  This was the biggest indicator of the level of stress that he was under - most of the time he was quiet and obedient.  If he didn't grind his teeth, you could almost con yourself into believing that he was unaffected by everything that was going on. 

To keep up with the phone calls and the various things that I needed to do, I found the notebook above.  I put everyone's phone number in it, even the ones I knew by heart.  Under duress, the brain goes absolutely blank and in moments that are already panicked, trying to recall it all often results in more blank brain.  The cycle would go thus - the phone would ring and it would be, say, the hospital with an update on my aunt and questions about future plans.  I would take notes and tell them what I could.  Then, with the receiver still warm, the phone would ring again and it would be family with questions - Ask her this or ask them that.  I would tell them what I knew, remind them that my aunt was very ill and we needed to do what we could without stressing her out any more than she probably was already.  We had a woman who was sick and needed to get better and we had a mother who was worried about her son and feeling terrible for not being there for him.  It was our job to make sure that she knew that she had people and all she needed to focus on was recovering.  Also, we had a hospital that took their patient's right to privacy very seriously and wished to keep me informed without violating that right.  I can't say this enough times - all the people from Virginia were incredibly understanding, helpful and friendly.  When I felt overwhelmed, they had calming words of advice.  When I felt useless, they let me know that I was doing okay.  When I was afraid of the outcome of all of this, they assured me that everything would be okay.  To leave my aunt behind in a strange place, alone, was a hugely difficult thing for me to do.  And my feelings were nothing compared to what I imagine she must have felt.  She was sick, and alone and had no idea what was going on and when and how it would all end.  And through it all there was the wee one. 

Everything that was going on had him fleeing into a shell of quiet.  He did not speak much most of the time - driving back to Brooklyn, it took a few hours before he was relaxed, smiling and reading route signs.  But his teeth grinding was a painful indicator and at other times, he would look really angry.  It's funny, but you could almost actually see the dark clouds above his head when a wave of anger came over him.  I couldn't blame him, for he was taking everything incredibly well.  I was impressed that he very rarely showed anger and mostly that anger came in missiles being thrown at people he believed I was going to leave him with.  Boy does he have a great arm!  Perhaps a future in baseball awaits him.  All of that said, the ride back to Brooklyn involved no tantrums, only a little teeth grinding and a whole lot of adorable big eyes and chipmunk cheeks!  You take one look at that face and you just have to hug him!

Ease on Down the Road...

i woke up early, the next morning, for i had errands to run before hitting the road to get back to new york.  my previous forced vacation had used up the few sanctioned days one tends to get in these united states, so i had to be back at work the day after.  the wee one was still asleep so i headed out to a store close by to pick up a car seat for the ride back.  who could have known that something as simple as a car seat could come in so many varieties?  but look - one was on sale.  it was pink but i decided that boy and girl colours are a useless social construct and, if i was wrong, one day in a pink seat could not possibly ruin a 3 year-old's life forever.  pink it was.  i took the seat out to the parking lot and pulled out installation directions that appeared to have been designed by ikea.  There were pictures and words and neither made any sense.  i generally consider myself to be an intelligent person - i have even been known to successfully assemble ikea furniture- but this car seat made a dummy out of me.  i ended up ditching the instructions and weaving seat belts through gaps and hooking hooks to other hooks until the seat felt as though it would not fly out of the car. 

i drove back to virginia aunt's place and found that the wee one was awake and eating breakfast.  he looked up at me and my heart melted.  his big eyes were so expressive.  he was such a cutie.  my virginia aunt had told me how he had been upset to be taken from his mom and freaked out but calmed down when he was told that i was coming to get him.  i was impressed at his memory.  remember, i told you how terrible i had been at keeping in touch - thank goodness he was such a forgiving young man.  he wasn't really talking and i couldn't blame him.  there was a lot going on and none of us could really explain it.  so, instead, we talked finishing breakfast and packing his things.  virginia aunt checked the car seat - i was shocked to discover that the seat was okay.  it turns out that, instructions be damned, all you have to do is make sure the seat is secure and you're good.  we were good to go.  the wee one was strapped in and we had the directions home programmed into the gps.

of course, the phone rang.  it was the camp my aunt had been at when she had taken ill - somehow my aunt's wallet had been forgotten; could i come and pick it up.  it was an hour in the opposite direction but it was still early and i was curious to see what this place was like.  it is totally nonsensical but emotions are not about what makes sense.  i say this because i got there and it was a regular old camp.  there was no ominous music playing and there were no zombies (that i saw, at least).  we picked up the wallet then, like a mystical power that works outside human understanding, my phone rang.  it was my aunt, from the hospital.  i had tried to call the hospital earlier but, as i was not my aunt's spouse or guardian, they would not tell me anything about her.  i was incredibly relieved to hear her voice - she sounded tired, but that was completely understandable.  i was able to see her before heading back to new york.

we drove from the camp into town, found a parking spot near the hospital, fed the parking meter and then i took the wee one's hand and we walked into the hospital.  we visited with my aunt for a little over an hour until i remembered that the parking meter had run out.  in a panic i jumped out and we exchanged a tearful "see you soon".  then the wee one and i dashed back to the car.  it was actually a bit of fun for us both.

with the wee one strapped back in the car seat, it was time for us to head back home.  we had a long drive ahead of us and i was trying to get us home at a decent hour.  all was going well for the first couple of hours - my plan was to drive as far as washington d.c., stop for gas and a meal and then carry on to new york.  i had not factored in hitting washington d.c. right at the evening rush hour.  entering d.c. the gps told us that we would arrive in new york before nine pm; d.c. added an extra hour and a half to the ride home.  it was while we were stuck in traffic that i noticed that i was low on gas and it was also then that the wee one woke up and asked when we would stop for food.  i couldn't blame him, i was getting hungry myself.  i am really impressed at how patient he was with me - i can be extremely cranky when hungry but he sat and read numbers off route signs with me.  finally we got out of traffic, found a highway exit and refueled ourselves and the car.

the ride home went without incident until we were on the verrazano bridge, a mere 7 miles from home.  it was almost midnight at this point and traffic was not moving. we were on this bridge for 20 minutes - a 20 minutes that feels like an hour when you are tired and so close to home that you can almost smell it.  then... it was over.  we parked, hidef came out to meet us and help us with luggage and the three of us went inside.

what a lovely surprise!  hidef had made a little bed for the wee one, with two companions for him - a little tiger and a little lion.  we dressed him up in pyjamas, laid him down next to his new friends and he fell asleep almost immediately.  another long day for all of us.  now that we were home, what next?

What? Where? How?

I have been mulling over this for a while... What have I been up to? Where have I been?  How do I describe it?  Sometimes I think of Jonah and the Whale and how perhaps I was swallowed and have now, finally, I hope, been spat out and can now try to carry on with life as before (without trying too hard to catch up, since I know now that never works).  Then I think, no, maybe I fell down the rabbit hole like Alice (it was a rabbit hole, right?) and I have crawled to the other side and am now free.  Okay, I am a little hazy on how the Alice story ended so I can't use that.  The Wizard of Oz?  Gulliver's Travels?

Oh I don't know.  All I know is that life just galloped up and threw me for a loop and it is taking a while to get back on board.  But fear not... or fear some, for I'm about to share my tales!

Naples, Florida

I spent a week working in Naples, Florida and finished earlier than the flight I was booked on.  I headed out to the airport, in the hopes that I would be able to get moved to an earlier flight but I was out of luck.  Plane trouble had led to cancelled flights but, as I had already returned my rental car, I was stuck at the airport for most of the day.  I sat about and wrote in my notebook a little:

- Spotted several men in muscle shirts; skintight technical gear that one is really only supposed to wear while exercising and, even then, one should probably just say no or at least "not so tight."  Thought - maybe the muscle shirt is the male equivalent of the sexy top, miniskirt & high heels worn by the ladies.

- Folk may be wondering about me too, as I sit with coffee and water, barefoot, with knees drawn to my chest, feet on seat as I read my magazine.  I just finished reading a story about John Lurie and then discovered that, apparently, Edgar Allan Poe invented the detective story.

There are so many things that I learn while on these trips, catching up on my magazine reading

- Picked up the Wall Street Journal that I decided, years ago, to stop reading.  I never liked the articles.  I read one that was flat, but then I found out that Rothstein, who allegedly fixed the 1919 World Series, was murdered.  This struck me because I have been watching the TV show, "Boardwalk Empire" and he is a character in it.  So... I read this and I think "Darn! Now I know how he leaves the show!  They shouldn't have printed that spoiler."  Then I stopped myself.  Silly me, the guy really existed!  I should have known how he ended. The blur of reality and TV.  Does this mean that there is a tendency now to view stuff on TV as not real? And can that really be all bad?  Look at all the things people believe because they have seen it on TV - like how a spray-on tan or spray-on hair, for that matter, will be seen as real and believable by people.

- Wow I also just learnt that Shelock Holmes used to be felled by boredom and cocaine!  I read those books in my youth; did that come up in the books or were my books censored?

- Again with the tiny bathroom stalls.  I couldn't change my flight and they tell me that it's too early to check my luggage.  Now, I have to try to fit myself AND my bags into the minuscule bathroom stall with doors that open inwards.  Great thinking, airport bathroom designers.  What are you trying to do - tick us off before we even get squashed into a seat with no legroom?

And with that I schlumped to a restaurant for a meal and a cocktail. At least it was warm and sunny

Creature of Attempted Habits

When I travel, I don't like to be rushed.  There are those who like to arrive at the airport with only the smallest sliver of time to spare, tap their feet impatiently in the security line, huff and puff as they are sent through the metal scanner more than once (it's that darned penny that got caught in the lining of my coat!) and sprint through to the departure gate as though they are trying out for the Olympics.  I prefer to take everything at a leisurely pace - rushing, among other things, leads to losing things, dropping things and breaking things.  Towards the end of last year, I spent quite a bit of time in airports, waiting for one kind of flight or another. 

My preferred modus operandi involves me getting to the airport with at least an hour to spare, before my flight.  If I'm lucky, I get to check my bag in for free.  I still have not gotten used to the idea of having paid for a flight, having to pay again to take my things on said flight.  Here, one cannot take liquids on a plane (a few weeks ago an agent confiscated my Nutella!) and, as lightly as one tries to pack, there is never enough space in the overhead for everyone's overnight bag.  This means that people disregard the boarding instructions, make a mad dash for the plane as soon as they can, and stuff their way-too-large-for-overhead bags into the compartments and things get ugly.  But I have leapt ahead of myself.

I tend to get to the airport, work through security - I don't wear jewellery and I wear shoes that are easy to slip off and on - and try to make it all as painless as possible.  Once through that obstacle, I look around for a restaurant.  Depending on the time of day and the length of flight, I may or may not get something to eat.  Nowadays, it can be difficult to get food even on an 8 hour flight.  Plus, that airline food is not known for being tasty; you're lucky if it's edible.  Regardless, I always get a cocktail.  Flying makes me a little nervous, so I like to be able to spend a good amount of time, zoning out and sipping on my drink.  Aaah.

Finally, it is time to head to the departure gate and wait for my row to be called for boarding.  I then amble on through and head for my seat.  I like a window seat and sometimes my row neighbours don't like me because, I often need to get up to go to the restroom.  I have already told you about the lack of space involved in travel and the general stresses that come with stuffing people in small spaces for hours at a time.  I try to ease the pain and a window seat (sorry I need to go to the bathroom) goes a long way.  I have reading material on hand, and I'm good to go.  If I have hand luggage, often the flight staff ask to check my baggage at the gate.  I welcome these moments because then I don't have to play the overhead stuffing game.  One less thing to navigate through the narrow plane aisle.  I squeeze into my seat and exhale.

I always listen to the safety instructions - I don't want to jinx things.  Then it's "hold the arm rests and try to make the best of it."  On a really good travel day, I fall asleep while waiting for takeoff and don't wake up until we're airborne.  However it is that it ends up, I'm doing what I can to make it as painless as possible.  I won't lie, that cocktail goes a mighty long way.