There are these days. 

There are these days where one word defines the entire day.   Some days it’s as simple as “simple” or “beach” or “win” or “end”.

Hashimoto’s.

There was no other word after that one today.

It just sat there.  In my head.  Like a g-ddamned stone.  Unmovable.

There were other words that floated around in conversation… 1 in 9 girls … highly treatable … periodic adjustments … possible fertility challenges … pregnancy monitoring… auto-immune disorders…

… no she won’t grow out of it.

Ok.

No.  Not okay.  Wait.  Two weeks ago I was stressing over letting her shave under her arms and the possibility of an early period.  Now it’s hypothyroidism, medication for the rest of her life and worries over growth and development.

And I know, I KNOW this is nothing.  In the scheme of things this is nothing.  My inbox full of CaringBridge email updates proves that to me every single day.

But still.  She’s my Swimmy.  She’s had the best summer of her young life.  She is fun and funny and spunky and, man, has she gotten to be cool lately. 

This doesn’t change any of that.  As a good friend said to me today, “This is just her hand to play.”

It’s just that I know what’s in the deck.

Sunday we had the family over for lunch to celebrate Benjamin’s 4^th birthday.  (4 Year Old post coming shortly, I promise.)

Without going into too much detail, about halfway into the party my mother-in-law began to feel “odd” and she was escorted to our bedroom to go lay down.  After a barrage of questions, the possibility of a mild or pending stroke was considered so everyone made the right decision and I called for an ambulance.  (No lights, no siren, no need to startle anyone or be the neighborhood topic of gossip.)

Everyone’s fine, just so you know. 

Later I heard a story that made me giggle and think.  I guess there was some concern that the ambulance and paramedics arriving might upset Leah or Benjamin and perhaps they should go upstairs.  My younger cousin just laughed and said, “No, I’m pretty sure Pam’s just going to talk ‘em through it.”

I laughed because she clearly knows my approach to things.  But I thought more about it because it never occurred to me to do anything differently.

On top of just being goofy, Leah is a ridiculously inquisitive and bright kid.  I’ve learned that given the right amount of well-explained information, it can really keep her from being upset and help her manage any sort of upcoming uncomfortable or even scary situation.  This was never more apparent than when her grandfather died.

Her grandmother wasn’t in any sort of distress and there wasn’t any gaping, bleeding injury or bodily fluids.  She was just resting on the bed being asked a gagillion questions.  Had I forseen any of that or, say, the use of paddles being used in a true, urgent emergency, I’d probably have made a different decision.

But in my head it was easy.  Here’s what she heard:

1. Remember the back board you saw at the pool for emergencies when people have to remain still or need help getting into an ambulance?  You’re about to see one – or something close to it.
2. If Gram got up she might feel weak or make things worse and we don’t want her to have to walk and maybe hurt herself.
3. The ambulance is going to come with the folks who know how to check her out and help give her a ride down to the hospital to get checked out even further.  (She knows the hospital because she helped volunteer when I worked in fundraising at this particular one.)
4. A stretcher is like a backboard that bends and has wheels. (She’d like to go for a ride on it.)
5. Daddy’s going to go down there too and hang out while the doctor examines her.

That was all.  (Benjamin just wanted a piece of his Thomas the Tank Engine cake.  RIGHT NOW.)  And she was fine.

As I think back on this, Leah was exposed to some valuable information and lessons.

• Don’t panic.  Getting overly upset keeps you from thinking clearly and asking good questions.
• Community helpers like firemen and ambulance paramedics are kind and nice and not at all scary – even if some of them are big as a house.
• There are members of your family that know a lot of things.  For not really being a doctor, her grandfather, Zayde, knows an awful lot and can do an awful lot – including taking someone’s blood pressure, medical history and assessing a situation. 
• Sometimes staying out of the way and sitting quietly is the best help you can give.

I’ve never treated Leah like she was a little girl in terms of keeping her from information.  I may present the information simplistically, but very, very rarely will I try to keep her out of a situation in which she is directly involved.  So far, so good.

Benjamin was too little and way too involved in his birthday experience to notice anything.  But, I do wonder if he will be like his sister in this way.  I don’t treat him any differently than I do Leah in this regard, but every child is different.

What about you?  Do you shield your kids from information right now or involve them in some way?

I am taking part in the 31 Days to Build a Better Blog Challenge.  This post is part of it.

The day before we dropped Leah off at camp we met some friends in Waco to swim and have some fun. Leah is roughly the same age as our friends’ kids and everyone enjoyed hanging out in the cool water in 100 degree central Texas heat.

While I was watching Leah swim I noticed as she lifted her arms up to try to do an underwater handstand (remember those? So fun) that there was HAIR under her armpits.

And then I died.

‘Cause, you know. She’s NINE. NIIIIIINE. I started to wonder if this pubescent phenomenon was happening, uh, elsewhere for her. (And NO I didn’t know already because she’s getting shy about being naked around people and I don’t go around asking her to show me her hoo-hah.)

So, I asked. And? Yes. A little.

And then I died again and looked at Husband who responded, “Woah, yeah, that’s all YOU. I’m in charge of That Boy and his penis.” Nice.

So what was I supposed to do? Leah had been wearing deodorant all school year because there had been a certain funk that was developing so I thought I had it covered. Now was I supposed to let her shave? At NINE?! And I was dropping her off for a month of sleepaway camp the next day?! Awesome.

I decided that I’d let it go, but talk to her counselors to tell them very specifically that if for ANY reason she became aware and self-conscious about it that they had my full permission to teach her to shave her underarms. Likewise if anyone else pointed it out – I certainly didn’t want her to be ridiculed for it. They said that girls at this age don’t usually notice those things, but just in case they understood and had a bag of razors for just such an occasion.

Yes, really.

I never really thought more about it until she came home and it was again apparent she was developing hair. Today I called the pediatrician just to ask if this is something we should be concerned about and he said he’d like for her to come in for some bloodwork to see if she does, indeed, have early onset puberty.

And then I died a third time.

I asked the nurse what this could mean and she said that there are ways, if it is the case, that this can be slowed down. I then asked if there is truly a reason to treat it besides the obvious reason of giving Leah giving her mother an aneurysm over this? And she didn’t really give me a good answer – just that looking at the bloodwork will tell us if there is a need to do anything.

Uh, huh.

So, back to the shaving. Leah’s in gymnastics camp which means lots of tank top leotards, sweat and arms flying every which way. What would you do? Would you let your NINE year old shave?

‘Cause I’m kinda at a loss. Which happens when you’re dead.

Yesterday Husband and I woke up at the ass-crack of dawn to drive across Texas to pick up Leah. And for those of you not sure of what ass-crack of dawn is, it’s 5am – roughly five hours earlier than my vital signs show up.

We drove three hours in the wee morning on some very small and boring roads to head to Bruceville, TX. It is a long drive and I am here to tell you that Husband and I have very different music tastes which sometimes (cough) makes the three hours seem like 9 hours, but it was very, very worth it because when we got there, parked and walked down to the cabins we got to see this running towards us.

And that right there made it all worth it. Okay that and these.

Leah had a great time these past 25 days. She grew physically and personally and is already talking about going back next year. She loved learning guitar for the first time and discovered that archery makes your arms hurt, but strong, and that 9 girls can have a giggly, silly time together and miss each other when they leave.

She also learned that when you are somewhere for 25 days it becomes your home – and sometimes coming back to your “real” home is hard. You are stuck between what you knew, what you learned to know and what you want to combine between the two.

Last night, for the first time in close to a month, we were all together to say prayers before bedtime. In the weeks that Leah was gone Benjamin had asked if HIS name could go first in prayers and we agreed thinking we’d probably just end up switching off back and forth as to whose name went first. Leah giggled at this idea at first and wanted to hear how it sounded with Benjamin’s name first.

“G-d bless Benjamin and Leah…”

And in a fit of exhaustion and emotional re-entry turmoil she burst into tears and said she wanted it to go back to how it was. “I just want everything back to normal again.”

Bless her little heart.

The other best part of yesterday was the reunion of Leah and Benjamin. We surprised him at swimming lessons and I swear it is a moment I will never forget. The smile on their faces and the sheer glee of him yelling, “Leah! I MISSED YOU!” was beyond priceless. He kept hugging and kissing her and they both erupted in fits of giggles.

There are days where these two kids can drive me completely batshit insane. Honestly, I don’t know how parents of more than two kids do it. THEY’RE outnumbered. But then there are days like yesterday – where I get to see how siblings really do mean something. Man I hope it’s always like that.

Welcome home, Swimmy. We’ve all been waiting for you.

It’s been 3 weeks since we dropped Leah off at camp. Or a hundred. I’ve lost count. Benjamin, however, knows EXACTLY how long his big sister has been gone and that is FOREVERRRRRRRR and he is ready for us to go and get her.

“Go get my sister, Mommy.”

You got it, buddy. In just a few days.

Husband and I were talking last night about how we didn’t miss her until now and is that okay? I think it is. The pictures below are stolen (quite outright) from the camp’s website (thus the crappy resolution, sorry) so we’ve gotten to see her happy and having fun and this is good because waiting for letters from her and trying to get any details out of her in those letters is a futile, futile exercise in futility.

Before she left we needed some time apart. You know that feeling. But now? After seeing the fun and big goofy nutjob smile on her face? I want to see her and that smile and have some fun with her again.

Six days. Six days, buddy and we’ll go get her.

Yesterday Benjamin and I were so excited to go to the mailbox. You see, we both knew it was the day we would receive our very first letter from Leah at sleepaway camp and I couldn’t wait to share with him what she had written and see his little face light up. The amount he misses his sister is bordering on awful to watch.

Lo and behold there were TWO magical letters and oh to see how he held those envelopes in his hands as we walked into the house. I’m pretty sure they were radiating rays of light and glitter in his eyes. I’ll admit I was pretty excited to read them as well.

I open the first one and there is a very folded up green sheet of paper. I open all the creases to find one single line of text: “Mommy, you FORGOT the Kleenex. You were WRONG.” Love, Leah

All righty then.

I know in her head she thought she was being funny because we high-fived after unpacking her that we DIDN’T forget any items this year. (Last year we somehow forgot soap and ended up buying a bar at a gas station on the way into camp.) But, really? This was not cool – for me or for Benjamin.

The second letter was very similar to the first except now I was wrong because “there’s no Maccabia (color wars) this year because they spent too much money on the new sports complex.” (Little does she know that’s a lie. Staff tell all kinds of lies so that when they break (surprise them) Maccabiah it’s a huge surprise and all the kids lose their ever-loving mind.)

But, again – not a nice letter.

The only way I have to communicate with her is via letters or email and I had to make a decision about whether or not to let this slide and see what the next letter brings or address it through long distance communication.

Yeah, I’m not letting it sit.

So last night I wrote her a letter telling her how excited we were to see two letters in our mailbox and how sad we were to see what she had written. I asked her to think about how she would feel if she had received a letter she was so excited to get only to find ONE line that was not nicely written. I reminded her that her ability to go to camp is a GIFT and she might be more thoughtful and appreciative of that when she writes her next letter by sharing her experiences with the family.

I will not be there when she reads the letter. I will not be there to make her feel better after I made her feel badly. I can only hope that the lesson on paper will be learned. I can only hope that she knows I still wish her a wonderful time at camp – and that I love and miss her.

I can only hope I chose good words – and the next letter is better than the first.

Sunday we dropped off Leah at her sleepaway camp.  This is her third year going, but the first year she will stay for the “big kid” session of 3 ½ weeks.  That’s kind of a lot.  It was also the first time Benjamin made the trip with us.  Here are some favorite outtakes of the trip that took 3.5 hours each way.

First it should be noted that Benjamin hates the car for any length of time , so we knew immediately that the 3.5 hr trek up there was gonna be FULL of sparkles and unicorns the whole way.  Thus? Liberal application of technology in the form of a DVD player, an iTouch and many, many replays of movies and games.  We did play the requisite “punchbuggy” and “alphabet” games for the first 30 minutes.  I was going to consider it a win if we could make it OUT OF HOUSTON before we unloaded the technology.

We barely made that milestone before Diego was on the DVD player.

We actually went to Waco, TX the day and night before we dropped off Leah because it’s just easier that way.  The added benefit to that is being able to visit with some old college friends who live there – super bonus!  We met our friends at their new country club, Ridgewood, (and, yes, in my head I was giggling at “Bushwood” the whole time – because I am 12) and had a blast chatting while the kids swam and hit the waterslides.

You know what’s hard?  Sleeping in a hotel in the same room as two kids sharing a bed.  Know what else is hard? Getting a four-year-old to sleep when he’s all wound up and exhausted all at the same time.  The amount of whimpering and whining and general NOT SLEEPING that happened Saturday night was extraordinary.  Truly.  It was one of those times I wished for baby Xanax.  Or, you know, vodka.

So, Sunday.  Here is the story in pictures!

This is the exit sign to Bruceville, TX, where the camp is.  At first sight it causes great applause.

This is the last sign telling you where to turn before you get to camp. It illicits HUGE applause.

Waiting in line in the car outside the gates.

Benjamin has had ENOUGH of waiting in the car outside the gates.

One of the things you have to do upon arriving at camp is check in. This takes FOREVER. Luckily it happens near a basketball court where Benjamin could run and play.  See this face?  In two years Benjamin gets to go to this camp as well.  I’ll have the same picture then. 

Sitting on the ever-popular “top bunk”.  Benjamin loved being up there with Leah and declared he loved “Leah’s new room.”

One last hug before we go.  I may or may not have been a little sad. 

I will say that Leah was a little quiet.  I know she was nervous about the longer stay.  And I will readily admit that I was a little nervous for her, too.  I know she will have fun, but I remember as a camper what that felt like.  This is a big thing for her, this longer session.  A test of sorts to see how she does on a longer stint away.  I really, really, really hope she has a good time.  But, also?  I really kinda miss her, too.

Benjamin was not totally happy about having to leave Leah at camp and last night while we were laying down watching TV turned to me and said, “Mommy, I want Leah to come back.”  I can’t blame him – he misses his best friend.  This will be a challenge for him as well.  Leah is the center of his little, silly world.

He was a trooper, though.  That 3.5 hour car ride back home was pretty easy – made easier with the roadtrip necessity of a Dairy Queen stop.  I knew he was tired, but wouldn’t sleep in the car (damn!!).  He asked to go swimming when we got home, so we did.  It’s too damn hot to do anything else. 

We quietly wrapped up our day with dinner and some TV time.  20 minutes later this happened:

Note the time. He’d been asleep for 30 minutes when we realized he had fallen asleep in our bed. 

And after the roadtrip and fun we’d had? We ALL slept like that.

Today, my Swimmy, Leah, turned nine. I haven’t found the words to describe her year yet, but I have found the images and the soundtrack. Happy Birthday, Leah – I love you for who you are and for who you are becoming.

Love,
Mommy

Leah’s 9th Birthday from Pammer on Vimeo.

Yesterday was one of those days where it was just busy.  In the morning Leah had her 3^rd grade Sunday School service that she got to participate in leading.  (In case you’re wondering?  Totally adorable and tear-inducing.)  So we did this:

Then it was off to a quick lunch and back home for nap time.  Ah, nap time.  Then up and awake to go visit my mom and then come home and get ready to have dinner with my MILtastic and Jacktastic.

At the end of the night, as I was lying in bed, it occurred to me I didn’t really get to hang out with the kids very much – and that made me a little sad.  It’s no one’s fault, just the consequence of a busy schedule not entirely under our control.

But, then I realized that every day is Mother’s Day around here.  I have some ridiculously cute and energetic and silly and challenging and sweet and loving kiddos.  I am lucky that my current job affords me the luxury of working out of my home office (otherwise known as my bed).  We have a great dress code here – Jeans on Fridays, but Jammies all the other days.  You should try it.

Every day they let me know that I am part of the center of their little silly world.  Most weeks I get little handwritten notes addressed to me with almost intelligible messages in them all ending in “I love you, Mommy!”  I get hugs every day.  I get kisses and giggles and the occasion “crash” from Benjamin.  I get love.

Yesterday I got a special poem from Leah that she did at school:

Thank You

Thank you for helping me when I need help with my homework,

For always giving me comfort when I am afraid,

And for letting me go to my best friend forever’s house.

Thank you for reminding me to wake up when I didn’t set my alarm,

For taking care of me when I am sick,

And for picking me up at school.

Thank you for always making me laugh,

For driving me to a really fun birthday party,

And for a new backpack when my old one killed my shoulders.

I know I don’t say it enough, thank you, Mom, for just being YOU!

Leah #9

Oh, silly girl – It is I who should thank you.

Leah will be nine next month. Pardon me while I hyperventilate a moment. Actually, it’s not all that surprising. I have never been that “Where does the time GOOOOO…?!” mom with any of my kids. There is very little I don’t remember about their years, so having Leah turn nine is just right in my mind and my heart. I look at her now and I see traces of the little girl she was, but more and more I see the teenage face to come.

She has gone through a transition becoming a big sister. Both kids are old enough to do things with, to play together for stretches at a time mostly unsupervised and can handle more responsibilities. Leah is actively taking initiative to do more “grown up” things. She made breakfast for both of them yesterday happily and successfully. Husband had to be restrained from running in the kitchen to supervise, but I knew she’d be okay.

Part of being almost nine means I have more expectations of her now. Sometimes that means teaching her to ignore her little brother’s taunting. Sometimes that means riding her for not getting ready on time. Sometimes that means she gets blamed for things she may or may not have had a hand in. That little brother of hers – he’s a piece of work.

Sometimes I’m too hard on her. I don’t expect her to be 11, but sometimes I don’t always remember she’s almost nine. Sometimes I forget that she likes to play and cuddle, too – that three year olds don’t have that market cornered. Sometimes I give her too much leeway, sometimes not enough.

She and I are all at once quite alike and radically different. I’m not sure what part is harder. But I think as we get ready for Nine we’ll find some time to enjoy the easier parts. Sometimes they’re hard to find in the frustrations of day to day life, but sometimes it’s worth the hunt.