Wednesday, February 27, 2008

An Ordinary Day

Today I am having an ordinary day. And, in having an ordinary day I am choosing to have ordinary courage. Tomorrow is my cardiac ablation.

Last night the baby said to me, “Mommy we are going to die. I am going to die with you. We’ll die in a couple of days.”

Gaaaaaah! What?!!! This is much different from our death conversation several months ago. And, I haven’t been talking about death. I haven’t even been talking about complications associated with the ablation. I don't want to worry the kids.

“What makes you say that?” I asked. She looked at the ground, shy, embarrassed.

“What makes you think that?” I repeated.

“My brother’s back.” she said, “my brother’s back and ghosts.”

?????????? I didn't get it.

“Have the kids been talking to you? Did they tell you something might happen to Mom?”

“No.” she replied.

“Well,” I told her, “I’m not going to die, at least not in the near future.”

“Okay,” she said, “in a couple of weeks then we will die.”

“Hopefully longer than that.” I replied, perplexed, but knowing full well that a couple of weeks is eons to a four-year-old.

I went to bed trying to gage what she had said. Likely the kids were talking, worried about me and the ablation. It rattled me. But the rattle was in my brain and not my gut. I did not have that deep abdominal do not go get onto that plane do not go forward with this procedure feeling. The rattle was more along the lines of lets get this damn thing over with so I can get on with my life kind of feeling. And I slept well. I woke up happy.

I got up at 6:30 this morning. The hubbie was already at work. I had to get five children to school; my three and two neighbors. The boy was easy. He even remembered to ask for more lunch money. Middle daughter did not want to get up. She didn’t have anything to wear. None of her clothes fit her - NOTHING! I found an outfit which she begrudgingly put on. Then she put on her brother’s snow boots. I suggested she wear her own shoes (tennis shoes, keens, crocs, snowboots?). No, she wants to wear her brother’s overlarge snow boots. And she has nothing to wear that will fit her. Fine. And her hair? She looks like a wild child and is one step away from full-on dreadlocks. I didn’t even go there. We had nothing for breakfast - NOTHING! How about cereal or toast or eggs or yogurt or oranges or bananas? NO! I don’t like that stuff! There is NOTHING TO EAT! WHY DON’T YOU GO SHOPPING?!!! I threatened grounding and no ballet. She settled on toast.

The coffee pot overflowed - grounds everywhere. I filtered my coffee through the french press. It was cold. I heated it in the microwave. We didn’t have chocolate to make a “ghetto mocha”. I decided against an outright temper tantrum and went to get the baby ready.

The baby, a parrot of her sister, did not like the outfit I had chosen. Nor did she want to choose her own outfit. She did not want to wear those socks and no she didn’t want breakfast. I didn’t go near the hair. Dreadlocks you want dreadlocks you get.

In the car the baby wanted her sister’s toast. Sister did not want to share. I told the baby she could have breakfast at school. SHE DOESN’T WANT BREAKFAST! After dropping her off she gave me an extra long hug - she didn’t want to let go. Let’s not start talking about death, not here, not now. I released myself from her grip and came home.

Now I have this pile of laundry to contend with. The sink is full of dishes. I need to make a Cost Co run and go to the post office. Middle daughter has ballet tonight. It’s watching day where the parents stay and, well, watch. I can’t stay. I have to go to work and discipline someone for slacking off. I hope to be back in time to see the end of her session. I have no plan to feed my family dinner and am skeptical of creating one between now and then.

This morning the sky was overcast, grey. The snow is melting and everything is brown. But now, as I write this, the clouds are breaking up. I can see blue sky. It’s lifting my spirits. The hubbie called. There are left over cinnamon rolls at his work. I think I’ll stop there on the way to Cost Co and get a treat. I’ll get a latte on the way - no grounds necessary.

Today I am not climbing a mountain or jumping out of an airplane. I’m not fulfilling any life long fantasies. Today I am having an ordinary day with the faith that tomorrow will be ordinary too.


Anonymous said...

Since my spouse is considering an ablation, everything you write on the subject is helpful to me. I am trying to learn all I can, but the first hand experience reads differently to me from the general information.
Thank you for sharing your experience. Very much.

Honorary Indian said...

You will be in my thoughts and PRAYERS. May your ablation be just an another ordinary procedure that occurs on an ordinary day...with extra-ordinary results.

Keep us updated!

Monsoon said...

All good wishes to you.

Bridge said...

In my prayers, meditation and thoughts. Sending you healthy, calm thoughts through this procedure.

jennifer said...

Great post! Thank you for sharing your ordinary courage. OMG I am NOT looking forward to conversations about death! I will have the same battle... and hopefully will decide as you did that for right now, it's OK to keep it at cats and goldfish...

Carrien said...

Soo, how are you?

I hope it went well and you are recovering nicely.

Brené said...

Thank you for sharing your story and your courage. You're in my prayers.

Tonya said...


I just saw your posts on my blog from weeks ago! Now I've just spent an hour reading YOUR blog. It made me laugh hysterically,get teary, and feel shivery, all at different times.

What a wonderful writer you are...
How do you find the time? Your life with kids, work, hubby etc...sounds even crazier than mine!!

Hope you're feeling well!


Bridge said...

hey , at least your laundry is in baskets.

kim the midwife said...

great post, thanks for the reminder of how it's all ordinary, even when it's crazily outrageous.

and thanks for your empathy for my fingernail... it's almost better :)