Category Archives: We’re Going to be OK

Mom, dad, 2.5 kids: really, you couldn’t figure out this would be an issue?

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Apologies in advance for length and stream of consciousness, as this post was written  quickly between doctor visits, but I really needed to get these thoughts out.

Last night I received a really bothersome email from Ethan’s teacher. It was a LONG email covering everything from his disrespectful behavior in class to exhibiting an “aggressive look” while playing football at recess. The crux of the note was to let me know that Ethan’s behavior has really regressed in the last two weeks (since returning from spring break), and could there possibly be anything happening at home that might be fueling this change?

Ethan and I sat down, and I read him the LONG email from his teacher. He said he was stressed with the standardize testing that started after break, and he was being bullied by a group of boys who keep calling him things like princess, queen, and lesbian. I knew this group of boys were being mean to Ethan, but I’m old-school when it comes to bullying: figure it out because bullying is a part of life. That advice is not working because in verbal retaliation to these boys, it’s Ethan’s loud voice that the teacher hears and E gets in trouble.

Then there’s the matter of “Family Life.” (Fellow StB moms: I highly recommend you read the book, if you haven’t already. I respect if your opinion is different than mine, but it’s worth a look if you haven’t reviewed.) 

The Family Life class was introduced after spring break and is part of the local Catholic school curriculum, as I understand it. Coincidentally, the introduction of this class corresponds to Ethan’s change in behavior.

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The cover of Family Life

When I asked E about the class and if it bothered him, he said no. Then he looked away and HUGE tears started to fall from his eyes. His face turned a splotchy red and he started sobbing. “Look at the cover,” he said. “The whole book is about families with moms and dads. Even kids with divorced parents have a mom and a dad.”

“I feel like an albino zebra because I stick out so much,” he cried as we hugged.

Ethan said the teacher asks questions like, “Who are you closer to, your mom or your dad?” The class has opened up the flood gates to a host of topics including bestiality (which was described as 2 animals having sex) and how a judge who imposes the death penalty is committing a sin. (A good Catholic judge cannot do that, was the message.) 

Over the last two weeks, I’ve asked every day about the lesson, the questions asked/answered, and corrected the issues I thought were misrepresented by the teacher, I.e., what bestiality really means. (Also, the judge is doing HIS JOB, and by that logic, a Catholic cannot act as an attorney, serve on a jury, be a lawyer in a criminal case, or act as a legislator making the laws – the laws the lawyers and judges are following when they impose or recommend sentencing.)

After he went to bed, I thumbed through the book. Images of smiling, very traditional families stared out from the pages. Mom, dad, 2 kids. There was diversity, but not within one family. White parents had white kids. Black parents had black kids. Asians with Asians. There were no mixed race families, no adoption of children of another race., no same sex parents or transgender discussions.

 

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OMG! These homogeneous families are so damn happy!

I read with interest the section on Fathers and Mothers. A few excerpts:

On Fathers, page 34:

Fathers come in many sizes and styles. Some are forceful and outgoing, others are quiet and strong. Some love sports and others love music. Some like to cook, and all seem to enjoy a good home-cooked meal! Some have to travel or work late a lot, and some may have lots of pressures on them. Some still find time to coach a sports team or to teach a child to ride a bike, and others wish they could. Some fathers may tell funny stories to their children or listen to their problems. Very few fathers, however, are just perfect.

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“Dad, can I have a Members Only jacket, too,” junior asks admiring the soft khaki fabric and the numerous pockets. “You have to work hard, travel a lot, and love sports or music first, Big Guy. But now, let’s say we go home and eat a big home-cooked meal?” dad responds.

On Mothers, page 35:

Mothers fill many roles in today’s busy world. They may work outside the home, as well as care for their families. They may work as volunteers. They have many things to do, but mothers try to constantly be aware of then needs of their children.

Interesting. So dad’s all busy with his travel and stressful schedule, and mom… What? She “may” work outside the home? Heck, as long as she’s home in time to make her husband that “home-cooked meal,”  it’s probably okay for her to have her little “outside the home” job. Dad, as we all know, is the real hero in this story. 

WTF, Family Life?

Here’s what I get from the book: moms talk on the phone a lot, as evidenced by the only two photos showing a parent without a child in the book. Seriously, there are no “this is just dad” photos. Just these two of women, no kids in sight, talking on CORDED phones. These ladies are probably sharing casserole recipes to make that hardy home-cooked meal men love so much! Amiright, ladies?!

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The section concludes with this, page 35:

Men and women each have important roles to play in God’s plan. Sometimes children experience the love and care of just one parent. Sometimes children don’t have any parents. Yet, it is a great blessing for children to grow up in the presence of two loving parents, a father and a mother. Both give love and attention, both offer models of what it means to be a loving and faithful man or woman.

So, my child isn’t blessed because he has one parent? He gets the shaft because his dad chose the bottle? Gee, kid, sorry about that, but look around, the rest of your classmates have this “great blessing” that you don’t (and won’t) have. 

Um, not a great message. No wonder he’s acting a fool in school. Hell, I’m sitting at Panera writing this and SEETHING with anger at this bullshit book.

Let’s talk about sex, page 39:

“It’s good to meet you. Where are you from?” People you meet often want to know where you were born or where your ancestors come from. Knowing where you came from helps them understand who you are. You came from God. God created you. Before you came to be, God thought about you and loved you. Everyone who has ever was or ever will be came from God. That’s why you can say you are part of the Family of God. Your parents cooperated with God’s plan for you. Through the miracle of procreation, they assisted God in bringing you to life.

Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mike and I just got busy. Sperm. Egg. Boom! Miracle of life. And if someone responded to my inquiry of “Where are you from?” with a bullshit “I’m part of the Family of God,” I’d pretty much write them off as coo-coo birds.

I’m not saying Ethan and Lauren aren’t part of God’s plan, but this is a pretty limited, self-serving explanation. To be fair, the book does include a little bit more on pages 48-49, but it’s VERY limited and focused on outdated notions. (Go figure!)

I responded to his teacher with this note:

Thank you so much for your email. No, Ethan did not tell me all this (except the testing stuff). We are still seeing his therapist, every other week. This was not one of the weeks. However, Ethan and I had a VERY good talk tonight.

There are three big issues here:

  • Testing pressure. Ethan has been stressed about the Iowas for months. I’ve let him know to just do his best, but he always stresses about tests. Testing causes him a lot of internal turmoil, particularly when he’s being asked questions he’s not familiar with. I’m not sure how to encourage him more than I have. And I’m not surprised that he’s upset during a testing week.
  • Ethan has been on the receiving side of some major bullying for the last few weeks. My attitude toward bullying is old-school – bullying happens at all life stages, so find a way to deal with it. My advice is obviously not working. In the last few weeks, a group of boys (NAMES redacted to protect the underage guilty) have been calling him names including princess, queen, Hillary Clinton, and lesbian. Ethan’s response to retaliate verbally is getting him in trouble – Ethan’s voice is LOUD, so he’s the one being heard with his retaliation. (However, racial name calling is NEVER tolerated, and we discussed that at length.) He feels like he has to say something back to the boys because walking away makes the other kids laugh and Ethan gets embarrassed. He hasn’t mentioned the bullying to anyone at school because he doesn’t want retaliation from the boys finding out that he tattled. He’s afraid it will cause even further name calling and more aggressive bullying. Ethan also said nasty comments are not just directed at him – this group is making comments about teachers behind their backs (including the art teacher mentioned in your email). In the art situation, Ethan was trying to call out the boys for looking at the teacher while saying “we like you” but behind the teacher’s back, the boys were saying some REALLY nasty things about him. Ethan was trying to let the teacher know what the boys were really saying. He did not handle it appropriately and he acknowledges that. The bullying issue is such a big deal to him, that Ethan talked to his therapist about the bullying issue a few weeks ago, and she indicated that she would mention it to someone at St. B. I’m assuming that connection didn’t happen?
  • Family Life. ETHAN NEEDS TO BE REMOVED FROM FAMILY LIFE IMMEDIATELY. First, perhaps I misunderstood, but I thought it was mentioned at the beginning of the year that the book would be sent home for parents to review in advance. That didn’t happen. I’ve had concerns the last few weeks about what was being taught – Ethan has come home asking about bestiality and why judges who impose the death penalty have committed a sin. (Note: Ethan’s dad was an attorney and we have A LOT of attorney/judge friends.) In addition, this subject IS the major difference in the last two weeks, as the book was introduced after spring break. Tonight, I asked Ethan about Family Life and if it was the reason for his behavior changes. His immediate response was “no.” Then he started to completely break down crying (the major, ugly kind of crying and sobbing). He said, “I didn’t even realize it until now, but Family Life time is hard for me. I thought I was over daddy’s death, but I’m not.” Take a look at the book – most of the photos are the shiny happy stereotypical family: mom, dad, 2 kids (I’m surprised there aren’t more white picket fences and dogs). Yep, there are photos of mom with the kids, but there are also a lot with dad and the kids. (And a strange number of photos of mom on a corded phone, no husband or kids around?) Discussions about “who are you closer to, your mom or dad?” (or however it was phrased in class, Ethan didn’t remember the exact wording) are causing major issues with Ethan’s mental health. THESE DISCUSSIONS ARE A TRIGGER FOR HIM AND HIS GRIEF, AND (AS I’VE MENTIONED BEFORE) TRIGGERS CAN AFFECT ALL HIS BEHAVIORS AND THESE EMOTIONS AND FEELINGS ARE NOT GOING AWAY, even outside of the lesson. I really believe spending time with this book and these lessons are hurting his attitude and his behaviors at school. Ethan and I agree that there is value with Family Life, and I would like to keep the book and teach the lessons to my son myself. We can coordinate what lessons you’re teaching each week so Ethan can stay on the same page as his classmates. But having him sit in class where a more “traditional” family model is discussed is very hurtful for him. (In his words: “Even in divorced families, the kids have a mom and a dad. I feel like an albino zebra because I stick out so much.”)

Finally, I want to clarify the activities on the playground. When the boys play football, it’s aggressive all the way around – the GAME is aggressive. There’s a move that the boys came up with earlier in the year called the “(LAST NAME) Attack” in which Ethan acts as the rusher. You can’t have a rusher and/or a move called “(LAST NAME) Attack” without an aggressive facial look. (Also, Ethan played tackle football in St. Louis before we moved and rule No. 1 is to look tough. Seriously.) The aggressive look might appear out of context from where (name of recess dictator redacted) stands observing the game. If football is allowed, aggressive looks (and, let’s be honest, aggressive actions) should be allowed. Other kids are knocking down players and throwing the ball too hard resulting in injuries. Kids are getting bruised, and yet a lot of the class wants to play. Aggression is part of the game. Let them play the game, or ban the game. It’s football, not ring-around-the-rosie.

Ethan and I have talked about appropriate school behavior, not talking out and being more respectful. If the bullying and Family Life issues are addressed, his behaviors will change dramatically.

Today, in response, Ethan’s teacher asked that I reconsider removing him from Family Life because he asks good questions and leads the discussion. He’s not afraid to ask questions that other kids are too shy to address, and she feels it’s good for everyone if he’s part of the group since he plays a lead. Um, no, I stand by my position to remove him from Family Life.

And if she wants him involved, then she has to deal with the consequences of his behavior triggered by this bullshit, outdated, superficial, Pollyanna class. We’ll see how Monday’s meeting goes…

We need roooooommmm! Basement remodeling decisions

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I was going to write about my sister and how she’s really pissing me off by making my mom feel guilty and she’s passive aggressively dissing mom on social media. But when I started writing, I realized giving Julie that much of my time and attention was making me really, really angry. She’s crazy, and always will be. (And for anyone I know IRL who’s following Julie’s FB “health” drama, don’t believe the hype, and please don’t think my mom and I are not involved. We just know how this plays out because we’ve been there, done that, and we’re over it. Julie’s using and abusing the new BF and his family – they’re just too new to know who/what my sister truly is. But, hey, Julie’s getting a newly remodeled home out of the deal, so grossly exaggerating things and lying is okay, right?)

Ahem.

Let’s talk basements. The topic will still stress me out, but in a much nicer way.

When I bought this house, I really liked that the basement was unfinished. I’d seen some homes with poorly designed basements, so a large, empty, open concrete slab (with decently tall ceilings), was a selling point. Clean slate. Do what I want, when I want, figure out what works for the kids and me.

In the four years since we’ve lived here, the basement has become a four corner dump pile – storage here, kids’ toys there, stuff for a yard sale here, holiday decorations there. There are also about 15 large moving boxes STUFFED with packing paper, making a cardboard wall separating kid space from yard sale stuff. Organized but not useable.

Sure, the kids will play down there every once in a while. And I’ll run/walk on the treadmill (which can’t be plugged into the outlets in the basement, so a heavy-duty extension cord runs up the stairs – super classy). But it’s cold (no heat), and a little dark, and really not inviting.

Last year, I thought I’d get it finished, but, you know, cancer. (Damn, 2015 was a wasted year.)

Now this, THIS is the year: the kids are older and need more space – Lauren’s dollhouses and dress up clothes and babies are taking over the living spaces where I never intended toys to be (dining room, front room, living room, entryway, kitchen – girl stuff is EVERYWHERE); Ethan doesn’t always want to watch “Wild Kratz” or other Lauren-type shows and is at an age where he needs to have a little bit of his own time and space. And I’m tired of stepping on Legos when he spreads himself – and those damn plastic foot-destroyers – across the living room floor.

And, as B and I work toward merging our family together, more usable space is becoming necessary – a place where all six of us can (comfortably) gather, a place where he can play his bass and I can arrange/organize/use crafty and gift wrapping stuff.

I started getting bids for the job.

  • First guy: REALLY young (not that age is a big deal), ridiculously quick, didn’t seem super thorough, plans didn’t reflect some of the things I asked for, some of the design elements didn’t make sense (i.e., walling around the furnace and water heater so close that neither would be able to be removed should I have to replace them in the future), kind of got the sense he might nickel-and-dime me when things don’t go as planned.
  • Second guy (and his wife who is his design partner): straight shooter, super thorough, pointed out some things I should correct now (whether or not he does the job), his bid was about $10K more than I want to spend BUT I think he’d do an amazing job (and he guarantees not to go over the budget).
  • Third guy: walked him through what I wanted, spent half the time he was at the house talking on his phone to someone (I was upstairs; he was supposed to be doing measurements), pointed out stuff I should do now (like guy 2), can’t get me the estimate until he has his electrician AND plumber AND carpenter all come out separately – like “Hey Dude 3, what’s your job if you’re not qualified to figure this shit out?!”
  • Fourth guy: got his name from an remodeling referral service at a home improvement show this weekend (he was the only one of four names sent that had a website, and I’m leary of builders and remodelers who are not showcasing their work on the internet or social media), from his website he is really receptive to working WITH the homeowner on budget and design, GREAT phone conversation with him, he’s coming out tomorrow.

This is a CRAZY big decision to make. It’s a lot of money. I want it done right. I want it to feel like part of the house, not just an afterthought or nasty scary basement. I don’t know enough about remodeling or building or plumbing or electric or drywall to know if someone is doing a good job or not. I need to have full-faith in the person doing the work.

Guys 1 and 3 are out.

I like guy 2, especially his no bullshit attitude, but he’s expensive.

Guy 4 *might* be the answer.

Oh boy, adult decisions are hard.

Ours

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“Beautiful children. Are they all yours?”

We stopped for lunch at a mom-and-pop restaurant in a smallish town in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, on our way home from spending Thanksgiving with B’s parents. (More on that another time.) An older woman behind the counter asked the question.

B was carrying his youngest daughter, following the server who was taking us to our table; Ethan was close behind, talking nonstop in B’s ear about something or other; and I was shepherding Lauren and B’s other daughter as we traversed the small entry of the restaurant, filled with knick knacks and tchotchkes for sale.

“Yes. Yes, they are,” I said, barely making eye contact with her as I made sure the girls’ heavy winter coats didn’t knock over something I really didn’t want to buy. I was busy holding the hand of one girl while directing the other by the shoulder.

The woman behind the counter followed it with, “But you both look so young…” and a sort of tsk-tsk sound.

Crazy lady, I thought. Of course they’re ours. What other kids would be with us? Does she think we found some kids alongside the road and brought them in for Swedish meatballs and limpa bread?

We were at our table at the back of the restaurant when it finally hit me what the woman meant.

“Are they all yours?”

Oh… are they OURS? Like O-U-R-S, mine and B’s? Well…

I felt a little foolish for  misunderstanding the woman. Yeah, they’re ours, but not technically O-U-R-S. Like if we start getting into if they’re our biological children and genetics and stuff… well, then…

But then, I realized I didn’t misunderstand the woman at all. YES, they are O-U-R-S. Damn, it, all four of them. For all their faults and all their goodness. For all the little arguments we referee. For all the cuddles we share. For the goodnight stories and kisses and late night movies and board games. For the helping make Christmas cookies. For the knock knock jokes at dinner. For the tears, for the laughter. For better or worse.

“Are they all yours?”

Hell, yes. Yes, they are mine. Yes, they are B’s. They, all four of them. They are ours.

That time I confronted a stranger who assumed I was a man

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I’m shaking as I type this. I’m angry. I’m embarrassed. And I’m a little nervous about the confrontation I just had.

Background: My hair is growing back, but it’s in a really awkward stage. It’s no longer “Oh, look how cute! Little hair!” And it’s not long enough to do anything with. It’s just…there. I’ve overcompensated lately by dressing more girly than normal – dresses or skirts, soft colors, scarves, makeup, jewelry – things that scream “GIRL!” Or so I thought.

I was standing in line at the sandwich place in the food court of the Union. It was pretty busy, but I was hungry and sometimes this place has a decent sandwich. I stood there in my jeans (rolled at the ankles to expose cute black flats) and white t-shirt with a ballerina in a mixed-medium lace skirt. I wore red lipstick. I carried a bright pink purse and checked Facebook on my phone covered in a bright pink and gray case. A pink Fitbit on one wrist, and a delicate purple stone and silver ring on the other hand.

Do I look like a fucking man?!

Do I look like a fucking man?!

I placed my order at the counter, and then the student worker called, “Next!”

The older man behind me said, “Did you get this man’s order?” and pointed in my direction. At this point I was looking directly at him.

“You mean HER order?” the student worker corrected.

“Yeah, his order,” the guy said again. Then looked me in the eye and said, “Oh, HER’S…” It was a condescending, sing-songy tone.

He patronizingly patted my left shoulder twice. I looked away.

I was seething. My eyes started to get liquidy (not tears, but I tend to leak from the eyes when very angry). Do I say something? Do I let it go? I played a couple of scenarios in my head, a few things I’d like to say. The kind of things you think about but you know you won’t really say aloud.

I was stuck. This guy was an older white man, dressed in a suit coat and tie. I work at a university, and dress code is usually pretty casual, except for administrators (most of whom are older white men). Do I dare jeopardize myself, and possibly my job, by saying something?

I started to shake.

I grabbed a drink from the cooler and made my way to the cashier. After paying her, I realized the guy was behind me. And I realized that I was really pissed.

“Hey,” I said, looking him right in the eye. “You called me a man back there. Referred to me as a ‘him.’”

“Sorry, I wasn’t looking. Your hair…” he said, his eyes wide.

“Yeah,” I pointed to my head. “This is called breast cancer. Six months of chemo, 17 radiation treatments, and surgery. I’m a women, god-dammit, regardless of what my appearance might suggest.”

“I’m…I’m sorry,” he said again, looking down.

“Just do me a favor. Maybe you should LOOK next time. Really look.”

I turned and walked away, out of the Union, back to my building, into the elevator, and to my office.

I don’t know who that dude was, and know what? I’m not sure I’d change a thing if I DID know who he was.

Now, I’m going to enjoy my lunch before my next class.

Updates: radiation, kids, yoga, photo session

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Cancer stuff: Radiation gave me second degree burns. In my armpit. Specifically in the crease of my armpit. It hurts badly, so I have a 3-inch by 3-inch gel pad stuck to it now. It’s cool and refreshing but oozy and weird. I hope it doesn’t dislodge itself and fall out during class today…

Tomorrow would have been my last day of radiation, but the oncology radiology doc decided to add a “boost” to my treatment. This means four more treatments, really super concentrated to the area in which the tumors lived. It makes sense – studies show a decrease in cancer returning in younger women with a few “boost” treatments. And the boosts will not affect the armpit area, so it can start to peel and heal. Thank goodness.

Radiation has been pretty easy. Lie down for four minutes while getting five doses of super powered x-rays, then on with my day. Other than a sunburned armpit and some slight fatigue, I’m handling it well. The only outward sign of radiation is the tanned skin my right side where the treatment happens. Overall, it’s certainly better than chemo!

Kiddos: The kids started back to school.

Kindergarten is kicking Lauren’s ass. She can hardly keep her eyes open during dinner, and she’s become super whiny until bedtime. She also sleeps until she’s woken up around 6:15 – completely different than the kid who was up by 5:30 every morning during the summer!

There was a bit of a hiccup in starting the year when I learned – at a parent meeting less than 36 hours before the first day of school – that Lauren would be required to wear a uniform this year. (Previously K4 and K5 did not wear uniforms. Apparently there was a communication that came home at the end of last year, but only three K5 families received it. There wasn’t any more communication from the school over the summer. Some found out through word of mouth and others were just learning of it also.) I spent the summer buying clothes for her to wear to school – and I checked and rechecked the dress code in the parent handbook (which wasn’t updated until VERY recently). I freaked out in that meeting, and I sent the new principal a strongly worded email that night. And… the new principal completely impressed me with her handling of the situation. She called me promptly the next morning (day before school) and offered that Lauren and the kids in K4 and K5 would not have strict enforcement of the uniform policy (so she could wear regular clothes when she wanted), and the school had a few smaller size uniforms we could have. Turns out, Lauren LOVES her plaid jumper. I’m out the cost of what I spent on school clothes, so I’m letting her wear them anytime, anyplace. She’s growing so fast that most will be too small soon anyway.

Ethan’s in fifth grade. He’s trying to find his place among his peers. Most of the boys play a sport or two, but Ethan hasn’t shown any interest in sports since Mike died. In fact, he’s specifically shied away from most sports – Mike was Ethan’s coach for baseball and soccer and helped (a little bit) practice football at home. He’s been reprimanded for talking out of turn during classes or hurting someone’s feelings. On one of the “feelings” situations, I have to side with Ethan. The kids were working in small groups to come up with “rules” for the class, and one kid suggested something like “we will give 110 percent in class.” Ethan called the kid out for the “110 percent” thing, saying it’s impossible to give more than 100 percent AND he strongly believed that in a school environment, they should focus on the facts not “bad math.” We talked about how he could have addressed his concerns in a more suitable way, but I also high fived him for identifying the flaw. (The teacher kept the 110 percent thing in the class rules, much to Ethan’s chagrin.)

Other stuff:

  • Mom and I started yoga. There’s a class at the Y for cancer patients and their caregivers. It’s not very physical, but there’s a lot of focus on stretching and breathing. The woman teaching the class also shows us how to modify some of the positions to meet our physical needs (like not putting too much pressure on the arm on the side where lymph nodes were removed). It’s an open-ended class, so no real beginning or end. Mom is loving it. I’m in it for a while (especially to learn the modifications), but I’ll need something more challenging at some point. Still it’s a cool thing to do with my mom once a week.
  • Friday will be my second boudoir photo shoot, complete with SUPER short hair and lopsided, mismatched breasts. (The first session was right after I started chemo – and still had hair, and the last session will be in the spring/summer – after reconstruction and after I have ((hopefully)) decent hair.) I’m hoping it’s as fun as the first time!