Author Archives: jenijen

Warm light, cold light

Today is my dad’s birthday and I wanted to do something — something other than cry on and off all day and raise my 2 ounce shot glass of whiskey to him later on tonight when I’m all done driving kids around. But I couldn’t think of anything good.

The kids are out of school this week. Sophie came home early from selling Girl Scout cookies on Saturday with a headache and a fever that went up over 103 for a couple of days. She was so sweet when she was sick, wanting me to be near her and hold her hand. Scuba went out and got her ginger ale and popsicles and movies. Last night she was feeling better, so she made dinner and then wanted me to sit and on the couch to cuddle and watch a movie with her, something we haven’t done in such a long time. She put on Brave which I hadn’t seen, and I curled up on the couch with her, and Scuba, too, but I was too tired to watch the whole thing. I promised I’d finish it with her today, maybe at lunchtime, but lunch came and went and there wasn’t any chance for me to break away from work long enough.

It rained today, hard. Willow started feeling sick, too, with a headache and a little bit of a fever. The girls set up a tea party for their stuffed animals. They watched a movie. They played Mario Cart. They put photos on Instagram. They talked about putting on rain boots and stomping around outside, but decided it was too cold. They ate cookies. Finally Sophie came into my room around 3 and started in on me for not watching the end of the movie with her. She told me how much I’d like it, and said that I’d promised. And, she was right. Honestly, normally I would have told her it would have to wait. That maybe we could finish watching it after dinner. But I spent all day wishing I could spend time with my dad, so how could I say no when she just wanted to spend some time with me? I brought my computer out to the living room, set it up so I could see if any new email came in, and spent 45 minutes with my girls in the middle of the day. They both kept leaning on me and patting me. It made me feel a lot better, too.

So, Dad, Happy Birthday. I didn’t do anything for you, but I did sit and hug on my kiddos. Brave was pretty good. You’d have loved watching it with the girls and me. Some popcorn. Beer for us, ginger ale for them. I wish you were here with us. You should be.

PE, thirty years later

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You guys. How could I NOT buy the Domo toaster?

If, back when I was in the 7th grade, someone told me that in thirty years I would voluntarily come back to my junior high and run 2.16 miles on the track I would have slapped them. Okay. Revising. I was mostly too polite to slap people, but I was the kid with the note to not run in PE. You know that kid. The one with exercise-induced bronchial spasms? Yeah. I would have been aghast. But, there I was Sunday evening, three and a half months after starting the Couch to 5K workout app thing, running my Week 5, Day 1 on my old junior high school track.

Nate and Sophie go to that school, and I know that both of them would be *horrified* to find me out. My incredibly cool running playlist can’t make up for my blinding pink running shoes and oversized headphones that I wear to keep my ears from getting too cold and achy. Also? I was wearing one of Nate’s old Vans thermal shirts to keep me warm. The whole time I jogged/walked, I was cracking up about it all, and that, too, would have sent both of them into an hour-long eyeroll. Or, you know, maybe they wouldn’t care too much. Yesterday the boys were checking out Kraftwerk videos online, and as they both were saying how cool they were, they said they figured they weren’t telling me anything I didn’t already know. Still, I think I’ll keep my jogging to the park and the treadmill at the Y. Once around the junior high track for old times’ sake was good enough for me.

Like the moon and the stars and the sun

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(This one kept developing after I photographed it, and now it’s hardly got any blue left in it. Phooey. Good thing I got Susannah Conway’s book in the mail yesterday.)

When I was a kid, my dad explained to me that part of what we, people, are made of is stardust. That some of the elements we are made of, and that we need to even exist, came from stars. They aren’t elements that came from earth, so we literally have stardust in our, what? DNA? I’m not phrasing it nearly as well as he explained it to me, but I understood what he said and it really stayed with me. Plus, it’s really cool, isn’t it? To look at the stars and know that the same thing that makes them shine is what makes us alive.

So, when I was on Facebook last Sunday and I saw that Amy Rice had added this new print to her shop,

I had it in my cart and paid for as fast as I could work my iPhone. The star charts in the antique atlas that she found and used to make the prints were first hand-drawn probably just around the time my dad was born. Or when he was just starting to discover the night sky himself. The first published version of the atlas came out in 1948, and he was born in 1944. Anyway – I love it and can’t wait to get it framed and hung up.

Cold Blooded

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Buddha in the fish tank – brrrrrrr

My dad used to tell me the story of when I had my first ear infection as a baby. I think he said I was about nine months old, and he called the pediatrician in the evening and said that he was sure I had an ear infection, and could we be seen that night? The doctor asked if I had a fever, and since I didn’t, he was certain that there wasn’t an ear infection but my dad insisted and the doctor met us after-hours at his office. You know, to humor the new parents.

He looked into my ears, and sure enough, I had an ear infection (the first of hundreds) but no fever. My dad and I both rarely run a fever, and when we do it means we’re really sick. Years and years later, when I had my appendix out, I was nearly sent home because I didn’t have a fever. Luckily the doctor in charge of the ER had a feeling that they should do a CT scan anyway and saved me from a ruptured appendix.

Over the years I’ve learned that my normal body temperature isn’t 98.5. It’s not even in the 98s. It’s usually 97.7 or so. It’s read lower than that before, and I always chalked it up to a cruddy thermometer and didn’t give it much thought until today. I’ve been cold lately. Like, Scuba and I are in bed at night and he’s toasty warm and I’m in long pj pants, a thermal, fuzzy socks, and under a comforter and a doubled over 100% wool blanket, and still my nose and fingertips are like ice cubes. My bones feel cold. Today I was sitting at my desk working and I was shivering in my jeans, Ugg boots, tissue-weight t-shirt, and long sleeved cashmere sweater (cause sometimes I like to dress fancy while I work from home). So, I was like, Hmmmmm, I wonder if I have a fever or something? So I found the digital thermometer and took my temp and it said, I swear, 95.4. And I was all, Well, CLEARLY that is incorrect and this thermometer is wack or the timer on it went off too soon. Then I took it again. 95.3. Then I took it again while I googled and got a few more 95s. And then, THEN it read 94.9 and I was like, Maybe I should move around some or drink something hot or sit in the van and crank the heater? I finally got it up to 97.1.

According to google, I’ve either got hypothyroidism (maybe? my grandmother did and my great-grandmother had Reynaud’s which is why I have such an excellent collection of gloves from the 1950s – 1960s), I’ve had too much exposure to cold (also possible, since it was chilly in the house and I was sitting and not moving), I have estrogen dominance and need to take wild yam supplements and eat a ton of mung bean sprouts daily (yummy!), or I’m drunk (sadly, not the case). I think, probably, that I just have a low baseline body temp, which seems to go along with my 90/60 blood pressure, and that I need to get up out of my chair and walk around every hour so that I don’t sit here at my desk and slowly freeze when it’s 60 degrees or colder in the house. Also I learned that if your temp dips under 93 degrees, you are screwed twelve ways to Sunday.

I’d also like to point out that the nearly-dramatic lower body temp messes with your brain, or my brain, at least, and makes it super hard to remember the basics and be a fine, upstanding citizen. I guess the moral of the story is that if you are freezing your ass off all the time, maybe you should get your thyroid checked, or start putting mung bean sprouts in your breakfast cereal, or take some activity breaks during the day to warm up your sedentary ass. Or, maybe I just invest in one of these guys.

Like a Boss

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This is what happens when you let Sophie tell the robot what to spell.

Well. November went KABLOOEY on me – so much for NaBloPoMo. Sometime last month, the 12th?, I honestly can’t remember the date, Nate broke his arm and is now missing out on his 8th grade wrestling season after (I think) being unofficially ranked #1 in the county for his weight class. A couple of days after he broke his arm, he had surgery to put a screw through his elbow to make sure everything healed properly. Then he got a purple cast and stopped showering regularly.

The very same day as his surgery I got on a plane and went to Palm Springs to attend Camp Mighty. The Mother of the Year award is all mine, so step back.

It was my first time in Palm Springs. I spent a lot of it going, WOW there are so many palm trees here! And tall mountains! It was lovely to see so many old friends and meet a whole bunch of new ones. I brought both my instant cameras and took a bunch of cruddy photos. Which, totally NOT on my lifelist.

Scooters!

Cacti!

I had a great massage, which WAS on my lifelist (to get one IN Palm Springs) and which I can now cross off. The Ace Hotel is super duper hipster. I came home and started drinking coffee again and listening to The Shins. I’m not even joking. However, I am not cool enough to stay up this late, so I’m going to call it a night.

Day 8

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I want a dog, but I know better. Luckily, I get to hang out with Lulu sometimes.

Pretty much the only French phrase I remember from high school classes:

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Un ce moment, tout va mal.

I remember it means something like, At the moment, everything is bad. Not everything is bad, really, but enough is for that phrase to be stuck in my head, Vous savez?

I guess I need to spend the evening working on my attitude.

Okay, then.

DaySixOfPoMo Obama edition

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We were all happy to hear tonight’s election results. Willow’s making an “O” in case you can’t tell from the photo. Election night supper: grilled chicken with lemon and olive oil, summer squash and onions cooked in butter in the cast iron pan, asparagus-wrapped prosciutto, mashed potatoes, and WIN.

Last night my dad was in my dream. Usually when he shows up, I know I’m dreaming and I appreciate the time with him, if that makes sense. But last night it felt not like a dream at all. He was out of the hospital and I was making sure he had his Sutent by calling the pharmacy to talk to someone. I was on hold and he was sitting at my grandmother’s dining room table and I was scratching his back for him. I was worried about how sick he was, but so glad that he was finally out of the hospital and able to walk. I talked to him for just a little bit, enough for him to say that he was feeling alright, but we both knew he didn’t have much time left. And then I woke up and he died all over again. I am starting to make a weird sort of peace with his absence. I’m somehow even more sad now than I was when it happened, but I think I am less angry. Maybe it’s just worn me out, all those thoughts about how unfair it was for him. Anyway. This is hard, hard work that I wish I did not have to do. His Google account is still there and I should probably stop sending him IMs, but I won’t. So many times when I open up my Gmail page the chat box is sitting there open, with his picture smiling at me. The cursor isn’t on his name or anything, and who’s it gonna hurt if I want to think that he’s asking to hear how things are?

The girls’ last weekend of soccer is coming up. We’ve got one game on Friday afternoon, four on Saturday, and a minimum of two (or three?) on Sunday. Then the weekends will be for making soup and clearing out clutter and figuring out the holidays. I think that good things are coming. I hope they are. It’s sometimes hard to visualize them when I feel like I spend 90% or more of my time just trying to keep up with all the things I’m in charge of. Everything from stocking the fridge to changing the smoke alarm batteries to trying to raise my kids to be good humans and remembering all the things that I need to remember just to keep our little train on track. I’m so elated that the kids are passionate about fairness, about things like marriage equality and inclusiveness. Sometimes even when things are good, like tonight, some of it devolves into harsh words and then a lot of tears and abruptly shut doors. Try as I might, I can’t seem to reel that in. With all that I can do, I guess it would seem like I’ve got the ability to better-manage how things unfold here. But from where I sit the best I can do is follow behind with the broom and dustpan and cross my fingers that this stormy phase gets better before it does too much permanent damage.

That is so much more than enough drama for today. All this tense election-watching has left me feeling a little grim, it seems, despite the mostly good results. How CA voters can choose to keep allowing the state to put people to death is beyond me, but I’m the first to admit that most of life baffles me. So I will keep hoping and trying to find the middle ground here where there’s less of people closing doors and saying no, and more stepping forward to help share the work of the physical and emotional ways of being a family.

NaBloFive,Yo

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I sent a single mom of four kids sized donation to the Red Cross today thanks to Eden’s fundraiser. Tomorrow is the last day, so hurry up if you haven’t already.

I swear I’m not making yellow teeth Tooth Fairy pillows, I’m just sewing, and iPhoneographing by lamplight because it’s super dark now that we’ve set our clocks back. I know it would be dark this time of night anyway, but it feels darker. And later. I’m waiting for the kids to get back at 8:30 so I can go to bed with J.K. Rowling’s latest novel.

I’ve been to two craft store places looking for buttons like the ones I had last time I made these pillows (blue, four holes in the middle, about yea big) but all I’ve found are the two hole kind. Maybe I’ll make one more fabric store trek tomorrow night. I like the way the four hole buttons make X eyes. See?

I swear if I were halfway awake I’d try and think of something to write about. But the kids just walked in the door, so I’m off to bed. Night!

NaBloIDidn’tForget

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I’m making twenty Tooth Fairy pillows to sell (I hope) for ten bucks a piece to raise $200 for Charity:Water for Camp Mighty. I first made these a few years back for my girls and then did a few more for gifts. I haven’t finished any new ones, but here’s what the originals looked like:

The front is a little tooth-faced character, and on the back there’s a pocket. You know, for the baby tooth / gold dollar exchange:

I found that fabric ages ago at a shop in San Francisco with my mom, and how could I not then go home and make Tooth Fairy pillows, right? There’s not enough fabric left for twenty pockets, so the new ones will have some updated designs. I’ve got some Dia de los Muertos fabric, and some of this, and then a cool kinda Jetsons-inspired blue and white pattern.

I’ll confess that at first I was kinda cranky about doing this fundraiser. I know. I suck. It’s just that I rush through the days without time to read or watch TV or paint that little bare wooden glider swing in the backyard, you know? But, of course, now that I’ve cut them all out and sewed the little smile on eighteen of them and the button eyes on one, I’m really happy to be doing this. It’s nice. And, if all goes well, I’ll raise $200 to bring clean water to people who don’t have any and that’s even cooler than me getting to be all creative and shit over here.

I think I’ll buy one myself and gift it to the girl’s pediatric dentist.

None of my kids believe in the Tooth Fairy anymore. The girls just hand me their teeth and ask for their money. It’s sad. At our house, the Tooth Fairy brings gold dollars, because when I was a kid it was silver dollars. Some kids my girls know get TWENTY BUCKS, which is part of why my kids all know that *I* am the Tooth Fairy. They know I’m always broke.

I miss that – trying to stay up late enough to sneak in when one of my kids was finally asleep and find their tooth and leave a coin. Without getting caught. This Christmas will be the first year I haven’t had any Santa Claus believers, either. Instead? I drop them off on dates and yell at them to put on deodorant. It’s good though, the growing up. I’m learning something new every single day.