The Beast of the Belly!!!!

As time ticks on, we started with my bear days and that was supposed to be the end of it. The doctor at the time was so sure about that, until they went in and found something untoward. So that led to a cycle of getting an MRI, waiting nervously for the results, leaving relieved and then getting another MRI. It was going on for a bit without any changes so, after a year of this, I went to a results-receiving appointment fully expecting to be told I did not need to come back so often. No such luck. They had found something and it needed to come out.

So another person with a knife got to have his way with my belly. Recovery was a lot more difficult that I expected; apparently when someone cuts into your stomach muscle and leaves a hole, covered by mesh, it can take forever to be okay. So I now have an interesting numb half-belly (or is that half-numb belly?) among other oddities. It does make for great parlour tricks - I can prick myself and it will kinda tickle (and yes, still bleed!).

I carried on, working my way back to a better me. I carried on, working my way to loving the new, different me. I worked my way back to a stronger me. And then, one day I woke up with a stomach ache that earned me a tube. It was a special tube. A man who somehow convinced me that it wouldn't hurt (I blame the morphine) threaded a tube through my nose and ran it all they way down into my belly. And there the tube stayed for days. And again, I conquered it.

Oh but the relapses. It seems my stomach gets tired sometimes and stops working as it should. I can't blame it - it has been through a lot. That said, it gets challenging when the mere act of eating can lead to an emergency room visit. So, the time has come again - they're going into the belly again. Oh yes. There may be smoke, probably mirrors too. After all that, I shall arise and be able to face a salad without fear.

And, as always, I'll be back!!!!

Do Me

My days are sucked up by things that suck up days. I have moments when I think, I should stop and read my favourite blogs; I like to do that. Often I am on the train, on my way to work, or I am sitting at work, trying to make a spreadsheet happen, and I decide that I shall do it "later". I tell myself that I shall get to it once the numbers work or once I have settled down and responded to the emails and gone through the inbox on my desk. And later never happens. I should know this by now - later never happens.

This morning, faced by the mountains of work that accumulate while one is away from the office for a few days, I decided to stop by my favourite blogs BEFORE anything else got in the way. I stopped by this super post from Prettylyf. I realised that I had commented on this before but today I read it again and gave myself a mental finger wagging. What have I been doing to feel pretty, inside and out? Do I even remember anymore, what makes me feel pretty? So this is my mission - I must make the list. Then I must do the list. And always I must respect, revere and redo the list. Innovate, elevate and celebrate!

Because, seriously, you can't be sucking time doing only things that suck!

Boom

When I was a kid, I was entranced by the image of the British policeman, with his domed hat and baton - no gun in sight. He always was a he and always looked like a person you could deal with, even when he was trying to wallop you with his baton. He was a character who could be written into children's stories, being wise, being silly, giving advice or giving chase. Good cop or bad cop, he was always a human cop.

Things are not so child-friendly in USA. Even traffic police have guns. The only ones that do not have guns are the police in training. But the guns don't stop there - everyone and their grandpa wants to be a gun toting army of one. It is all a little unsettling for a person who grew up on Enid Blyton, but many do not share my view, evidently. The theory is that if you have a gun, no one can hurt you because you will always be the one to pull your gun first in order to protect yourself. Because everyone claims that the gun they have is for self defence and yet there are shootings, what seems like, every day. How would that happen if everyone was protecting themselves?

Over the last 4 months, 8 policemen have been shot in New York City. New York has pretty serious gun laws but, as we do not have a wall and moat surrounding our city, people tend to bring guns in from out of state. All 8 policemen were shot using guns that were legally bought outside New York. The 8 policemen are significant, to me, because they are the one group of people who have guns on them all the time and have actually been trained to use them. And somehow, miraculously, when being shot upon, sometimes they get hit and hurt. You would start to think that these gun things are seriously dangerous and that, despite one's best efforts, sometimes someone else will shoot you, even if you have a gun. And, mind-blowing as this idea might be, you may start thinking that if efforts were made to keep guns out of everyone's hands, fewer people might get shot.

Crazy, huh?

Just the Two of Us

You would think that, as long as I have been alive, I should know that life is full of surprises. With all those surprises life is bursting out the seams with, I should know that a few are bound to come my way. All too often, I forget.

Last week my aunt called me to tell me that the wee one was heading to Zimbabwe to live for a while. Oh, and he was leaving in a week. From the way I felt about not being able to see or at least chat with him at least once a week, I knew that this was an unbelievably difficult and painful decision for her. The wee one is sunshine. I could say he is cute and charming and funny and fun and kind and well-behaved and sweet and clever and I would still have hundreds more words to describe him. Even after going through the list (if it ever came to an end) I may still not be able to properly convey how having him in my life, in our lives, affects us. He opens our eyes and our hearts in new and unimagined ways; he makes us want to go out and explore and imagine and enjoy the world; he never fails to surprise us. And now he was off to take his sunshine to our family in Zimbabwe. Lucky them.

So, last week, I got to see him and his mom quite often but Friday came way too soon for us. Off we were to the airport, with lots of bags and a heavy sadness to boot. As we were waiting for the airline attendant to check in all the luggage, the wee one and I decided to play around with the camera and silly faces. He really is just the best thing ever.

Is this what Shakespeare meant when he spoke of the "sweet sorrow" of parting? I knew that he will have an incredibly time in Zimbabwe - what with all the space he will have to run around and all the family he will have to play with - but I am sad that he had to go so far away.

My Own Darn Band!

I am sure I have mentioned before that I, pretty regularly, take a 6:30 a.m. yoga class. I was there this morning and so was another woman, who chose to set up right behind me. I was given the most fascinating vantage point - as I looked in the mirror, there she was. And, just in case I missed her, she wore a bright pink top. What a show I was rewarded to. I had an idea that things might get interesting when she insisted on controlling the window that the teacher tried to close. But how interesting? I had no idea.

Class started and, as we began our breathing exercises, she began adjusting the many necklaces that she was wearing. When she was done with that, I thought she might join us. No. She clasped her hands together and proceeded to look around the room. Next set? Same thing. We then moved on to the preliminary stretches and by "we" I mean everyone but her. She looked more like she was getting ready for the 100 metre dash, as she exhaled loudly and spent a couple of seconds reaching up in the air. Then she sat.

And so the class continued. At times she would rise as though to join us but she would instead do whatever she felt like doing. I wondered if perhaps she was hard of hearing but wouldn't she notice that everyone else was doing something different? When she sat, she would sit cross-legged for a few seconds, appearing as though she was about to meditate, her fingers in that meditative thumb-forefinger thing. But that would last, at most, ten seconds and she would be fidgeting again. The hair, the jewellery, the bright pink top. Anything but what was going on in class.

The teacher was lost for words. At first she tried to offer suggestions to improve the pose but, once she realised that our pink lady was doing her own thing, she gave up and let it go. Finally, towards the end of class as the groans became especially loud, the teacher suggested that the student leave since she appeared to be studying. The pink lady graciously declined the offer and groaned her way to the very end.

I want to say, thank you Pink Lady. Thank you for almost completely taking my mind off the usually very trying class. Instead of thinking about how I could take a nap mid-pose, I was was absolutely baffled. Now only were you marching to a different drummer, you had a whole darn band playing some crazy free form tunes! And to that I say - Cheers!

Well, Let Me Tell You!

I am a regular working stiff. My Monday to Friday is made up of my spending around fifty hours in the office, another eight or so commuting to and from work and, let's say about thirty hours sleeping. All this means that I spend more time with my coworkers than with anyone else in my existence. That's a lot of interaction and leads to various questions about what lines are appropriate to cross in these here relationships.

And as I sit wondering where those lines should be, my coworkers happily dance across them and pull me over with them. I, for instance, know way more about their body functions than anyone who is not their proctologist or gastroenterologist should. There is the coworker who likes to come by to share how much better she feels because she just moved her bowels. She sighs contentedly, while I make a mental note to avoid the bathroom for the next 20 or so minutes. I guess she is being servicey. Others share their stories of post hot-wings intestinal activities. At least the tales entertain, though I feel sorry for the now traumatised third parties who were caught in the crossfire.

From all I know about what is going on with these folk, you would think that I worked in a medical office as some kind of inner-body experience therapist. Hmmm... perhaps it is a niche career calling my name. But then again, that really does sound, literally, like a crappy job.

No Friends

I came across the story related to the photo above and I still can't figure out who is the person with no friends - is it the model on the cover of the magazine or the editors who let this happen? They say "there's one born every minute" with respect to fools, but it was when I saw this that I realised that with all the fools that have been born, it is more and more likely that a bunch of them will end up in one room with not one thinking person to say  - STOP IT NOW!

Someone thought it would be a good idea to create and image with a pale-skinned model surrounded by dark-skinned models. That was a bit silly but could have been taken in many ways. However, the fools decided to take any ambiguity out of the equation by putting the caption at the bottom of the screen "Stepping Out of the Shadows". Oh, so that's what those dark things are... shadows. And when she was asked, the model insisted that this was merely about coming of age (because we have all stepped out from among dark shadow-women when coming of age) and that everything was okay because the models were not all black folk - some were Filipinas who had been painted black. So you see, it's all okay. And for those of you wanting to say otherwise, you tell me what your shadows looked like when you stepped out of them at your coming-of-age moment.

The Skip They Do...

Double dutch? That's my dream! Ever since I was a preteen, I have wanted to learn how to. I first knew of it through a Malcolm McLaren song, aptly titled "Double Dutch." I fell in love at first sight. It looked like so much fun. I would jump away and try little tricks, imagining two friends spinning the ropes around and around. In my mind I was a champ! It was so much fund and, from that moment on, I dreamt of learning how to double dutch with actual ropes.

Last year, Hidef and I went to New Orleans for Jazz Fest and one of the features was a children's tent. I noticed on the agenda - Double Dutch! "Do you think they'll let the audience jump?" I asked Hidef, barely able to contain my excitement. There was only one way to find out. We headed to the tent, at the appointed time, and I sat on the grass, along with children a fraction of my age. What a fun show it was - a mix of teens and preteens turned their ropes and performed routines for us. I was clapping and yelling the whole time. The show ended and the jumping troupe announced that audience members were welcome to come up and try jumping the ropes. They did not have to ask me twice. I hesitated for a second only because I did not want to take space from little kids but, even though I was towards the back of the line, I got my turn. Do you see me? I was glowing for the rest of the week just from the few seconds I was able to successfully double dutch.

If I have a resolution for this year and every other year to come it is to do this as often as I can! The skip I do's the double dutch, that's me dancing!

Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

I do realise that, at this point, almost everyone would consider us quite firmly in 2012. It is the beginning of March tomorrow, after all. You know what else I realise? I realise that this is my space, my spot, my domain and so I can live in the past if that is my wish. Right now that is my wish. I feel that I did not give 2011 the sendoff and recognition it deserves.

We have New Year pomp and circumstance and it is all about making resolutions about all the things you must do in the new year to be bigger, better, faster (or in the age of the eternal diet perhaps I should say smaller?) And yet, we do not take the time to say farewell to the year past and to look at the glorious things that happened in that year. Don't folk get tired of picking at themselves, seeking what is wrong and what they need to improve on? It's time to look and love!

2011! Thank you!

• I went to New Orleans Jazz Fest. It was New Orleans so the food was delicious. It was Jazz Fest, in New Orleans, so the music was glorious. To cap it all off, Hidef proposed and that was just perfect!
• I survived a 5-day stay in the hospital. Granted, I did miss our Super Bowl party but I did get to see what an emergency room looks like in real life. The nurses were wonderful and did right by me.
• I went to Austin, Texas, and ran a in a 5 km race. I came second in my age group! Whenever I run in New York, even when I run faster than I ran in Texas, I am lucky to place in the top 50 in my age group. So, yeah, I was pretty pleased to do that well without having to trip anyone up.
• I went to Niagara Falls. I had not been in Canada since I was 6 years old and had never been to Niagara Falls. I cheered my friends on as they ran a most scenic race.
• I renewed my relationship with my incredible 3 year old cousin and his mom. What a light that has brought into our world. He is smart and funny and helps me see the world in new ways. Bonus - he calls me Big Pandave. The looks we get when we're out and about are priceless.
• My brother graduated college! My mother came to visit and I spent a summer surrounded by family from far and wide. I have three siblings and none of us live in the same state. My sister lives in a different country on a different continent. My cousins are spread out far and wide. To have a family moment is something that really cannot be put into words. Naturally, there are moments when you want to strangle them but who better to strangle than family? They understand. Oh and my family is growing too - I now have extra family via Hidef and that's welcome too.
• I smiled, a lot. Smiling and laughing are really awesome and infectious and, if you are going to resolve to do something, that's a good thing to resolve to do.
• Oh and dancing. Always with the dancing. Have you ever danced the second line in New Orleans? Have you ever rocked out in your home, when it's just you and inhibitions have been shown out? Have you ever just danced and danced and danced? I did and I did it often. And I still wished I could do it more. Music and dancing are things I can't live without.
• I fell off the wagon several times but I always came back to my writing.

There are so many other incredible and amazing things that happened. I ran races, I hung out with friends, I travelled with Hidef and went to new and old places and spaces. I fought my fear of heights and walked over boulders. I never conquered my fear of rodents but, so far, they have not given me a heart attack. Oh I see them trying, running across my path and staring at me without fear. And I can't lie, I tell myself I shall react better but I just yell and flea. Maybe one day I'll be brave. But for now I give a water toast to 2011 (I am at work so the glass of wine will have to wait) and I say - 2011 I lived you!

I am amazing and I love super and I resolve only to keep on being me!! Look out 2012, I'm ready for you now.

Like A Cancer Grow...

Oh man! What a long time it has been. And for that, I received my just desserts. So, I am going through a transition in my little world and I am discovering that transition leads to a lot of bellybutton-watching behaviour. When I hang out with my friends and, during the dullest of moments, conversation drifts to workplace conditions, everyone I know declares that I need a new job. It is not a surprise to me - even after we get past the whole "boss smoking in an office where windows are locked" thing, there are many reasons that making a move may be wise. A big one, I am discovering is the soul-crushing nature of a less than ideal workplace. None of this is helped by a totally sluggish job market. So...

I have often found myself wanting to write, because I love to write and because I can't draw to save my life. Yet, I am either too emotionally and physically drained or I fear my posts will be full of bitterness and darkness. But now that I've written that, what is wrong with a little bitterness and darkness? It is the full spectrum of emotions that make this world an interesting place. Now I know. Always the tiredness though. Oh to speak of it, I would need a divan and corseted gown. I would need to swoon on it and groan "Alas" as I sank into the the massive cushions laid, just so, on the divan. "Oh, woe is me!" I would proclaim and the world would buckle at the weight of my distress.

For my lengthy silence, the gods sent true silence upon me. On the afternoon of 2 January, my throat began to tickle. I sucked on lozenges and drank water. I gargled with salt and drank more water. On 3 January I woke up to find the frog had firmly lodged itself in my throat. I sounded like Eartha Kitt's less talented cousin. It got worse for a few days and then it started to get better. I thought of writing but produced nothing. A friend told me that my rasping non-voice was a sign that I was holding things in and needed to let them out. I needed to write everything I felt out, she ordered me. I agreed heartily and yet wrote nothing.

The gods struck again, this time silencing me completely. I was whispering. Whispering. For a week. Any attempt to vocalise resulted in breathless coughing fits. I could not call my mother for sympathy, for I could not be heard on the phone. When people spoke to me that week, they all shouted. I kept wanting to say - I can't talk but my hearing is just fine - but they could not hear me... even when I shouted. Is that irony?

As my voice crept back, "The Sound of Silence" kept playing in my head. A few days ago, as I was in the shower, I sang the song (with mixed results as my voice still lacks range) and as I sang the line,
Fools, said I you do not know,
Silence like a cancer grow

I saw that I had forgotten this and was allowing the cancer of silence to grow in me. So, I must crawl out of this dark echo chamber of silence. I must do right by the gods and use my voice. Look out world - it's about to get loud in here!

My Day Declared

It's official!  It was my day, though I am happy to share it.  What an incredible day.  I woke up to this awesome poster (references to my racing number tags that I have to pin to my shirt) and a text from my sister.  It only got better. 

I forget, sometimes, so it was a great time to remember what an amazing life I have lived and still live.  I have friends and family from all over the world and incredible experiences to show for it all.  I come across a song and I remember a joke, a dance, a cry or all three.  I read a birthday message and I laugh because I remember something from years ago - a slang word shared among friends, a show we snuck into without permission or a heartbreak that I just knew then I could never get over.

Every day the there are more experiences, more laughs, more music and more love.  Isn't life just grand.  Even when it gets dark and infuriating and you just can't believe the idiots (who put them in charge and how did that happen), I am just pleased as punch that I get the day to remember that there are stupendous people out there - and some of them are in my life!

Trapped!

I find myself locked in a room with four other people, at least as many calculators and eye-damaging screens. I find myself in a room of technology yet, strangely, no Internet. I find myself in this room, clinging to one tiny hope - they tell me freedom will come on Friday.

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!

Sidebar

yesterday i was heading home and waiting on the subway platform for my train.  a confused-looking woman approached me hesitatingly to ask if "this train stops at 42nd Street."  because many trains stop at many parts of 42nd street and that does not necessarily mean that train is stopping where you wish to go, i asked her where she was trying to go.  "i was just told that i needed to get on the 7 train to queens."  i consulted my handy subway map (i always like to be sure before i give directions, as i have no sense of said direction) and i confirmed that she was indeed in the right place.  she still looked frustrated, so i said - are you new to the subway? "yes!" was the response and a grimace that told me that she was not enjoying any of the benefits of public transportation.
"i'm just going through a lot right now," she continued and then i noticed that she was fighting back tears.

now, for the past few weeks, i have had an overwhelming feeling that the world needs more hugs.  a very simplistic approach to everything but my simple heart looks out and sees how easily people throw out their anger but it is so so hard to give a hug... especially to a stranger.  in recent times, often i think of my dear blog buddy dodo and imagine that right now i could send many hugs and more.  dodo's wonderful images convey such emotion, reflective of the roller coaster ride we are on right now.

the lady on the train sat down next to me and sniffed.  i smiled at her and then looked into my bag and rifled around a bit.  i found what i was looking for.

i handed her a tissue and then we were at her stop.  i wished her good luck and sent her a virtual hug.  maybe the world is not quite ready for random stranger hugs, but i think we could handle more smiles and virtual *hugs*

now i want to dance too! 

Yes, I mean No, I mean Yes!

during the wee one and my wednesday drive from virginia, hidef was at work, organising for life with a wee one.  wonderful and generous friends gave clothes, toys and advice.  he was tireless and supportive, checking up on us as the day went on.  his big project was to find emergency childcare services for the wee one.  i had to go back to work on thursday morning, as did hidef, and we decided that, at three years old, the wee one was not quite old enough to be left to his own devices for an entire work day.  this project turned out to be pretty challenging.  daycare centers, at least the ones near us, are not big on emergency care and some places needed us to have all kinds of paperwork that would prove that we were valid caregivers and not crazy kidnappers.  fortunately, hidef was able to organise a babysitter for the next morning.  she was due to arrive at 8am, so we could head out to work.  it was a relief to arrive, at close to midnight, to find a wonderful bed for the wee one and a plan for the next day.

because we live in a new york apartment, the wee one's bed was set up in the living room (where it would fit) and i slept on the couch, so i could be right there, in case the wee one needed anything.  who knew driving could be so exhausting?  the alarm went off at 7 am and i was still tired, but it was time to go.  i was barely stretching out my cramped muscles when hidef's phone rang.  he was in the bedroom so i could not make out what he was saying but a few seconds later he popped his head into the living room and said, "the babysitter just cancelled.  she says she had another commitment that she had forgotten about."

i am sure that real parents always have a plan b and maybe even plans c and d but we had the one emergency plan that we had been so proud of.  what to do now?  the wee one was very well-behaved but i get antsy at work, how would a 3 year old deal with being cooped up in a boring office all day?  i did not want to find out.  but what could we do?  who could we call?  hidef sent a text to one of his daddy friends and we waited for a response while trying to think of other people who might be able to help.  there had been some of my aunt's friends who had initially offered help but (i don't blame them) seemed overwhelmed by the idea of taking care of a child and had withdrawn their offers.  the 7 am woman called back and offered to send a friend but we no longer trusted her and, even though we did not yet have back up, declined.  i mean, how could we trust our wee one with someone who had started out so unreliable?  the phone beeped - a text from the daddy friend.  he sent us a number that his children's nanny had given him.  we called and a wonderfully friendly woman offered her daughter's services.  relieved, we accepted and waited for her to arrive.

i was already late for work but at least i knew i had a plan.  the wee one was awake by now so we got him cleaned up and ready for the day.  i had a talk with him, telling him that he was going to spend the day with a babysitter but that i would be back after work, i promise.  he had seen so many faces over the past couple of days, i wanted to assure him that my face was going to be a regular one.  hidef and he started playing with toy trains - the wee one LOVES trains - while we waited for the sitter to arrive.  finally she arrived i opened the front door and welcomed her in.  a second later, she was dodging the train that the wee one sent flying towards her head.  i was impressed by her reflexes, impressed by the wee one's strength and aim, a little afraid that we had just scared off the sitter and very surprised by the intensity of the wee one's reaction.  he had seemed so game about spending the day with a sitter.  to our relief, the sitter laughed it off, stating that having a little brother had taught her how to dodge missiles.  whew.

the sitter then started asking us questions that we had no answers to - was he potty trained? well he was wearing a diaper when i picked him up, so i assumed so.  did he nap and, if so, at what time?  i had no idea - he has slept most of the drive over but that may have been because we were driving.  did he have any allergies?  no clue.  was he on any medications?  you know, we only just picked him up yesterday so we were not sure but, since no one had given us any medications, we assumed not.  she took all of this in without showing any shock (she would make a great poker player) and told us that it was all not a problem. 

i bid the wee one goodbye for the day, let the sitter know to call me for anything at all, and rushed out to work.  it turns out the sitter had a great poker face - she told the daddy friend's nanny that hidef and i had no idea what we were doing.  she was pretty correct.  at least we had gotten the sitter (someone who had an idea) right?

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?

It's a Wee One!

i clicked over to the Deputy Sheriff, my heart in my mouth.  he spoke too slowly for my racing mind, as he introduced himself and confirmed that i was family.  the trick question that he asked was - can you describe your cousin's (it was not the time to correct him on the relationship) son.  "he has these big eyes and cute cheeks and he's three. he is so small."  i write this down and i have no idea how the guy accepted this as a valid identification; i'm guessing that he heard something in my voice.  then, relief.  they had found my aunt and the wee one and both were safe.  however, he continued, my aunt was doing so well and he was thinking they may have to send her to the hospital.  he was just a policeman and so he was not going to make that decision but, he wanted to know, was there any family close by that the wee one could go to while his mother was being taken care of.  i thought of a friend, but he was too far away.  then i remembered another aunt (related on another side of the family) who had moved to virginia and, luckily for us all, she lived about an hour away from some spot in virginia.  i hung up and called her, and caught her just as she was getting up.  i hurriedly explained what was going on - could she take the wee one until i was able to show up and take over?  of course, she said, without hesitation.  she just had to find a friend to drive over with.  there was a back and forth of calls - deputy sheriff, me, my virginia aunt, verifications of arrangements and identifications.

at the same time, hi def woke up and found me pacing around the apartment - well it was more walking in tight circles because i live in a new york apartment.  but i was hectic.  i was putting my work bags together and talking and thinking i was thinking.  i got off a call and he asked what was going on.  i tried to talk and my voice broke.  ten seconds of tears later, i pulled myself together and told him what i knew so far.  "so, what are you going to do?"  "i told the policeman that i was coming to virginia to pick up the wee one."  "so what are you doing now?"  he was looking at me in my suit with my bags. "i don't know."  i was in auto mode, doing what was familiar.  "ok, let's talk about this and try to figure it out."  you see, it would have been easier if some idiot in a van hadn't decided to mess up our car.  the car was in the repair shop and everyone seemed to be taking their time about sorting that mess out.  i had to find an alternative.  i pulled out the computer to start looking for something.  the phone rang again.

the hospital people had shown up and decided that my aunt needed treatment - they were not yet sure what was going on but they needed to help her.  she was worried about the wee one, of course, so they needed to be sure i was coming - yes, i assured them, i was on my way.  the deputy sheriff was calling with his updates. i was calling car rental spots to see if they had anything for me that i could use immediately.  hi def was keeping me calm, helping find car rental prices and getting me to write lists (i am so bad at those). 

finally i was on my way - it was an 8 hour drive, according to the gps, but it took over an hour to just get out of the city - rush hour.  but, i had coffee and i was good to go.  the woman from the hospital called to let me know that my aunt was at the hospital and being assessed.  the deputy sheriff called to let me know the same.  during my drive, my virginia aunt called to let me know that she had picked up the wee one, taken him out to lunch and they were headed home to wait for me.  my aunt's friend called and i let her know that i was on my way out to virginia.  i passed a huge fire that had shut down the highway; thankfully it was the other side of the highway.  i drove on without delay. 

it was close to midnight when i got to my virginia aunt's place.  a day that seems so long sometimes can just rush by in an instant - dealing with the phone calls, the rentals, the rush hour traffic just swallowed up the day.  oh and it started raining, which slowed me down a little.  but i was there.  i hugged my aunt and she took me into her bedroom - the wee one was asleep.  so so cute.  and so so tiny.  it was time to go to bed - tomorrow promised to be a long day too.

What I Wanna Do Right Now Is Go Back...

my aunt.  a little background here.  in 2000, after an awesome celebration of the new millennium, i moved to the united states.  i flew in to boston and moved in with my brother in worcester, the armpit of massachusetts.  i was embarking on a completely new phase in my life and i had the option to start it wherever i pleased.  the story of how new york ended up being the choice is another story but it includes a bus ride to new york, on the invitation of an uncle who lived in new jersey.  he believed that new york was the best place for me to find work, so i had agreed to spend the weekend with him so he could convince me.  the bus arrived at the port authority as i stepped off the bus, i was overwhelmed by the hugeness of the place.  there were so many buses and doors and people.  oh and it was nighttime on a friday night.  i looked around and had no idea how i was expected to find anyone.  i stood around for a bit.  nothing.  i found a pay phone and tried to call my uncle.  voicemail.  i waited a little longer and tried to call him again.  voicemail.  this cycle was repeated until a couple of hours had gone by and i was out of quarters.  what was i to do.

although the port authority of 2000 was a much friendlier place than the port authority of 1990, it was still a rather intimidating space for a jenny-come-lately with no sense of direction and no plan b.  what was i to do?  i sat at the top of one of many stairwells and tried to come up with an idea.  a young man walked up to me and asked me what i was doing.  according to him, he had seen me and could tell that i was in trouble - i looked very confused.  i explained that i had run out of quarters, was trying to find my uncle and had no plan b.  he happened to have a mobile phone and offered it to me.  "try to call him again," the young man said.  voicemail. "don't you know anyone else in new york?"
i shook my head, no, and sat back, defeated.  what to do, what to do... but wait! i remembered that a few months earlier, an aunt had called me.  and aunt i had not spoken in to many many years, maybe more than ten.  i remembered that she had mentioned that she was living in new york.  could this be true.  i paged through my little notebook and showed the number to the young man.  yes, he confirmed, that was a new york number.  it was almost midnight but i was desperate.  i called the number and waited.  the most welcome voice in history answered and insisted that i come over immediately.  she took me in and made room for me.  i ended up staying with her for the weekend and, when i decided to move to new york, she let me stay with her for several months, while i sorted myself out. 

she is my family in new york.  but, we lived in different neighbourhoods and i, for one, got busy with work and life in general and i was not keeping in touch as well as i should.  i had been there for this awesome arrival and we had spent christmas together.  we also spent a little time hanging out when my mother was around but i really had no idea what was going on with her.  and then there was that call from the deputy sheriff.

Voices

On the morning of 28 June, I woke up at 5 am, as has become my very uncivilised habit, and set out for my morning run.  It was a pretty good run; it was cool and not too humid and I walked back into the house feeling very good about the day ahead.  I picked up my phone to check on the weather so I could make final decisions about my clothes for the day.  To my surprise, I had several missed calls and two voice messages on my phone.  I almost never check voicemail - I prefer to just call the person back so we can have a conversation - but the obscenely early hour made me curious.  Who was calling me at this time of day and why? 

I started out with a number I did not recognise.  I pressed play and I heard, "Good morning, Pandave, this is Deputy Sheriff from some spot in Virginia.  We are trying to locate some information on your cousin.  She is possibly missing from a location down here in Virginia and we're just trying to get some information on her.  Please give me a call back."

Whatever I may have been expecting when I pressed play, that was not on the list.  My cousin (who is actually my aunt) lives in New York, so I was really confused.  Why would she be in Virginia?  She has a three year-old son, why hadn't the Deputy Sheriff mentioned him?  Where was the son?  As my not-really-awake brain tried to process this, I dialed the phone number that the Deputy Sheriff had left me.  I got his voicemail.  Then I listened to the second message on my phone - it was my aunt's friend, asking me to call her back.  So I did.  I got her voicemail.  Panic.

I started pacing and trying to figure out what to do.  Well I thought I was trying to figure out what to do, but how can you figure when you know next to nothing.  It was so early in the morning and I couldn't even begin to try to imagine what was going on.  Should I try the Deputy Sheriff's number again?  Should I try to be patient and wait for him to return my call?  What was going on?

My phone rang.  It was my aunt's friend.  What she knew was that my aunt had gone out to Virginia to a summer camp that was run by a church.  The previous night, my aunt had been on the phone with her friend and sounding a little frantic and confused.  She was not clear, but my aunt believed that she was in danger.  At some point in the evening, the sequence of events was fuzzy, the police arrived at the camp and my aunt and her son were missing.  The police were searching for her and were trying to figure out what happened.  Before I could ask my aunt's friends any questions, my phone beeped.  It was the Deputy Sheriff calling me back.

The Beginning... I Think

So there we are, the day before my mother was to head back to Zimbabwe.  She looked over at me and said, "I told you that I don't want to die in America."  At the time, she was sitting in the passenger seat of the red car you see above; the passenger seat is the side closest to that van's open door.  Look closely and you will notice that the car door is a tad askew.  It is askew because it is wedged into the side of the red car; you know, the red car my mother was sitting in at the time.  It became wedged because the driver double-parked van thought it would be a good idea to open its door into a car as the car passed by.  Mother was not hurt and lived to tell the tale - as you can see from the quote above.  The car was towed away and embarked on its own separate adventures.

My brother graduated from college, my mother came to visit, for a month, to celebrate the graduation and spend time with her children.  My cousin came to New York for a summer internship.  It was crazy, it was hectic, it was wonderful!  I almost never see my family and to be able to spend time with them and to get a hefty dose of my mother's wisdom was a gift.  But that kind of intensity does come with a price.  Trying to fit a year's worth of visits into thirty days can be exhausting and a car knock up at the end of it all made it all the more nutty.

That said, it was a June full of love, laughter and great food.  Are there words for how difficult it is to say goodbye, knowing that it will be another forever before you get to spend time with your mother? 

Then it was home and back to the usual grind.  Turns out that the usual lasted only 7 days.