Internal Clocks

Here's a picture of Myles at Splashville, the new water feature that's opened up just outside the front of the city building (conveniently where we go to drop off Seth at work every day). Myles loves it, and in this July heat getting wet is key. It's been a challenge to keep up with my running simply because it's so hot and humid outside, even at 6:30am when I set out. I'm ready for another cool snap.

It's been a week. We lost a member of our congregation last weekend, and it happened unexpectedly (she was 60). Her daughter's family has been a regular part of our community for the last year, and so we've been grieving with them, culminating in a memorial service last night.

Mylestones: This week, Myles transitioned from crying in the morning when we dropped him off at preschool ("I don't want you to gooooo") to crying when we come to pick him up ("I don't wanna goooo"). I guess this is a good transition. We know he's been enjoying class from the start because he resists leaving when we come to pick him up, but still, morning after morning, he hasn't wanted to go. This week he finally wanted to go first thing, but then he didn't want to come home, so there was some crying, some screaming, and yes, some body spasms on the floor. That's been my experience of raising a child...trading one challenge for the next.

Myles Says: On the other hand, he's saying all kinds of sweet and hilarious things that keep us loving life with a child. This week I got him a book at the library called "My Daddy is a Pretzel" about yoga for parents and kids. I came home from an evening meeting to see Seth squatting on the rug with his tongue out (lion pose). Myles knows lots of the poses, and there's nothing like a three year old body in downward facing dog. The other night, Myles was stepping into the bathtub and he paused and said, "Oh man, not again! I gotta go poop, just like last time." Seth began explaining to him that his body has an "internal clock" that tells him when it's time to eat, sleep, pee and poop. Myles looked at me (now on the potty) with wonder and solemnly said, "I've got a clock in my belly. I've got a clock in my butt."

Happy Saturday...we're off to the Farmer's Market!

Sour Grapes

I can't post a family photo b/c I'm typing from my church lap top...our desk top having melted down again. Seth wants a Mac. There's so much going on that I don't know where to begin. How about with Tuesday. I dropped a teary Myles off at preschool (it seems that after three weeks of being home with mama full time, he now doesn't want to go anywhere without me), went to a meeting and returned home to be greeted at the door with a wall of stench...specifically poop. I confess, my first thought was that Myles had backtracked on his potty training and had cleverly managed to leave a poop hidden in the house, undetected before we left. I inhaled again. Nope. This was definitely dog poop. I'll spare you the details (which I did not spare my poor friends and family who heard the story first hand), suffice it to say my dog had gotten very very sick in more ways than one in three separate rooms while I was out of the house. As I cleaned it up, I noticed she was really struggling...her head felt feverish, her eyes and ears and belly had all turned red and rashy. By now it was time to retrieve Myles from preschool, and I ordered her into her crate; she could barely walk. Seth took her to the vet an hour later, she was diagnosed with a bacterial (virus?) she caught from the one night we had boarded her last weekend...and also we were told she had a problem with her right knee and one of her hips, problems that may require expensive surgery. Did I mention the lawn mower broke down last week?

Good thing I just snagged myself another job as a Family Support Liaison at Mission Hospital. This 30 hours/week with the church (ha!) isn't cutting it. The FSL position is an on-call, overnight thing, with 8p-8a shifts a few times/week. I will get called in if there was an accident that resulted in someone being put on life support, called in to support the family in their time of crisis. The thing I like about nights is it doesn't interfere with my time with Myles, and since my church schedule is somewhat flexible, I can sleep the next day if need be. The more I have reflected on our hospital experience with my dad, the more I've come to realize that the care and compassion of nurses, doctors, surgeons, and others was crucial to our ability to function in those difficult months when my dad was in and out of the hospital so much. Having a good nurse enter the room was like a breath of fresh air, and it made all the difference. So now it's my turn to give families support in the midst of crisis, in whatever way is helpful to them. I think this work will build up my skills in hospital visitation, which are already a part of my pastoral work.

Back to the freaky week. So that was Tuesday. On Wednesday morning, I had my second interview with Mission at 9:30, so I had to get Myles to preschool on time. Just as we were fixin to leave, Juniper throws up. Seth begins cleaning it up, and I walk out to put Myles in his car seat and I notice three things: 1. the remnants of watermelon seeds, from the watermelon Seth had shared with the neighbor kids on the porch last night. 2. a mad swarm of sugar ants all over the porch 3. Myles' carseat, sitting on the porch, swarmed with ants. Seth must have taken it out when he took Juniper to the vet. I brush the ants from the carseat, install it like wonder woman on speed, and buckle my kid in as I smash a few stray ants. On the way to preschool I explain to Myles why I can't stay, even though I know he wants me to. When we get there he cries and clings, and I now am peeling him off of me, feeling like the worst mom in the world, and booking it to my interview. Interview, check. I get back in the car to find ants all over. Where are they coming from? A secret compartment inside the car seat? I call Seth, as I always do in moments of crisis. He says I should power wash the car seat (it's leather). I remember why I married this smart guy. I go to the car wash and the power spray is $1.50. I put in my dollar, quarter and dimes. The dimes fall back out. Quarters only. But I don't have any more quarters. I do have a $5 so I put that in, wondering what I'll do with $4.75 in quarters. Only the machine doesn't make any change and I realize I've just purchased a 15 minute car wash for $6.25. Lovely. So I power wash the car seat and take unhealthy delight in watching helpless little ants stream down the drain. I rinse the car, wash the car, brush the car with bubbling soap, spray the car. Finally the wash is over. I vacuum out the car. Good-bye ants.

I get home and Juniper continues puking. In fact, I think she's puked like 8 times. I put her out on the back deck b/c I just can't clean it up one more time. I call Seth again. She needs to go back to the vet. She's gotta be dehydrated.

Long story short, the vet took her back and kept her for two nights as they stabilized her and got her healthy again. We're told she still needs expensive knee surgery. I just can't wrap my mind around kids being hungry in Haiti and me spending thousands on dual knee replacements for my dog. Do I sound callous? Seth thinks so. I love Juniper, but I'm not convinced that imposing our medical model on the animal kingdom is always a good idea. We've been referred to a dog surgeon, so I'm trying to just wait until we have more information at our fingertips.

Last Wednesday, as we were headed to church for our Service of Lament for the Gulf Coast, Myles brought with him a bowl full of grapes. He said, "This one's for Mr. Aaron, and this one's for Miss Sara, and this one's for Anna." He continued to point at grapes and name the masses he would bestow with one green grape each. Half way through the car ride, I heard him begin to cry in the backseat. "What's wrong, My?" I asked. "I ate all the grapes I wanted to give away!" he moaned miserably. Ah yes, the internal conflict between good intentions that don't quite come to fruition. Myles can be amazingly compassionate, like Seth, at times. But the truth is it's hard to share.

That's all for now from the wild world of the Hendler-Voss household. Be well.