This Too

I’ve been putting it off, but rising anxiety prompted me to finally look into the side-effects of medications I might be prescribed for CIS in a few weeks.  If you are curious, there are only four out there, of the twelve drugs available to slow the progression of MS.  All four of them are injections, self-administered.  Barf.

We’ll see, though.  I have two appointments in the next few weeks with two different neurologists.  I have been given the choice to not do anything at all, and so far that is the route I’ve taken.  The second appointment is when I believe I’ll be told some more numbers and we try to guess what my likelihood of having another attack/progressing to MS is.  And if that probability calls for preventive measures.

I’m not entirely stress-free on other fronts, either.  I’m working really hard at bootcamp these days (holla, Fit Moms!), but there’s something there that isn’t quite right.  I’ve been getting overwhelmed and panicked.  Maybe it’s the intense claustrophobia I felt working out in the small room the other day, maybe it’s just my body “doing some emotional processing” like my favorite yogi once taught me, or maybe I’m just tired from all these extra late-night snuggles my koala needs.  This too shall pass.  Until then, my husband has offered to make me a t-shirt that says “I Might Cry.  Or Punch You.”  Heh.  He knows me so well.

My intuitive, sensitive little daughter is going through another round of what we call “Full Koala” around here.  Preschool has gotten a little harder for her (Thanks, Alice!), her tummy hurts, and she has been crawling into my bed earlier and earlier in the night these days. (Thank you Jim Gaffigan!  “My wife has instituted this opendoor policy, where if one of our kids wakes up and has a nightmare, they’re welcome to come into our room and pee in our bed.”  tee hee!)  I made my choice about this a long time ago.  Give her enough time and security and she’ll bloom on her own. These two hothouse orchids of mine wilt when pushed and thrive when they are ready.  Every once in a while, though, I feel a little squeezed, a little impatient.  I’m not looking for a magic bullet, but I may be waiting for a ton of books from the library called things like Quiet Kids, or The Shyness Breakthrough, Nurturing the Shy Child and Growing Up Brave.

My poor husband takes the brunt of this when the kids are in bed and I tell him to “Go away.  Right now.  I have not been alone for one moment in three days.  I love you dearly but go away now.  Take these damn cats, too.  Fine, you can sit on the other sofa, but I swear to god, don’t speak.”  He’s a good sport, bless him.

About a year ago, I told a friend that true-to-form, my daughter’s snow angels were even pressed against the side of mine. She still is.  Today, we got a sprinkle of fresh snow and she asked if we could make “a snow angel, and mine angel will be right next to you, and you can be the angel’s mommy.”  Of course. Of course we can.

A snow angel mommy and girl
Here. Just here under my wing, doll.

Oddly, I’m not tired of winter or the cold yet.  I don’t mind bundling up, or the shoveling, or the early dark this year, but I am missing walking barefoot through the yard.  I do miss the green and feeling the heat of the driveway.  I’ve never experienced winter this way before.  Must be the work of the new skylights.

All of this calls for action, so I made my annual “save me from winter” trip to the garden center yesterday.  I already have my seeds and the dinosaur terrariums made by the kids from last year’s trip are still mostly alive, so I came home with a giant pink cyclamen to brighten up the windowsill.  And new tea towels.  And two baby kalanchoe plants in bloom because my daughter fell in love with them.

Pink cyclamen, orange cat
Cyclamen, Stuart-Approved

I also had a couple dozen things that needed to get done yesterday, but instead gave the pothos and the croton a nice soak in the shower.  I sprayed all the dust off their leaves, gave them a trim, and huffed the scent of warm, wet dirt for a while.  Ah, summer!  Then I dismantled the dish-washer and cleared out the gunk in the trap and behind the seal.  Why must I clean the things whose job it is to clean? Why?  Nonetheless, it sparkles now and I feel accomplished in a way I’ve been missing for some time.

Those things, and a steady diet of raspberries, red peppers, avocados, (and popcorn), eaten while sitting with a goofy four-year-old in the bay window have me in a late summer mindset.  Everything is flush.   This too shall pass.

Raspberries, Avocado, and red pepper.
Le Cure de Soleil et Fruits Expensive

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