Cold Spaghetti

By my count, the number of times a mother should be prepared to pass out when her child breaks a limb is 6, depending on how much she plans on re-telling stories from any part of the process. No matter how many broken bones, blood, or carnage you’ve seen.  Apparently, all of that is inconsequential when you’ve birthed the hurt kid.

Included in that count of six are two incidents during the casting process.  But don’t worry, fellow Mom.  You’ll get through it.  Then you can bring your kid home and melt his or her medicated brain.

While Paul attended a meeting a the kids’ school, I tried to redeem my lousy constitution for my son’s injury by helping him decorate his cast to his heart’s desire.

Will’s heart’s desire = Transformers.  And Star Wars.

Transformers seemed easier.

I printed out the Autobot decal and cut out the negative space to use it as a stencil.  It turned out alright, not as clean as I’d hoped due to the holes in the surface of the cast.  But, it was cool enough to pass at school.  (And cool enough to trump the little heart I added near his hand.)

After school today, the painting continued.

Will painted the women’s reproductive system.

(He said it was a stage with a king and queen performing.)

Paul painted, too.  Intently.

Kate bonded with yellow ochre.  And gave *Jazz Hands*!

While they painted, I prepared for Will’s next cast request.

Luke’s X-wing fighter.

Unfortunately, part way through the painting, Will reached over and swept his hand across the cast, smearing the whole thing.  (I had walked into the kitchen to get more paint.)

There was a lot of fixing and repairing.

Did you notice little R2?  (Look very closely.)

Here is a view of all three: the Autobot decal on his upper arm, the X-wing on his forearm, and the tiny heart near his thumb.

Did I earn enough cool Mom points to last me awhile?  I figure I need to save up when I can.

Cold Spaghetti is now five years old. My first post was written August 26th, 2004 — then on another site — and would move twice before ending up here in its own special domain.  I’m blushing as I admit this, but there is a lot of unfinished business on this site. One of my post-dissertation project-dreams is to re-vamp it, clean up old posts, set tags and labels, and properly archive everything in a cool kind of way (after all, it’s the closest I’m going get to cool).  That is how I’m getting through, you know… making all sorts of PLANS for what I’m allowed to do AFTER the dissertation.  Those AFTER plans?  They are BIG PLANS, let me tell you!  Life changing, earth-shaking plans!  In fact, I love to talk about the PLANS so much, that all the other stuff, like getting to AFTER, can fall to the wayside.  Oof.  If I’m going to make November, it may be time to raise the bar.  What do people do to finish a book, I wonder?  What drastic measure or extra-cool incentive helps others?  Should I deny myself chocolate or wear a chastity belt or something?   (Suggestions welcome.)

This week also marks the date of my inaugural post (granted, a cross-post, but a post nonetheless!) to NOLAFemmes — a website written by New Orleans women about New Orleans issues important to women. It’s a great site for information about local artists, events, and politics — and a good way to get an idea how the women of our city are healing our collective wounds, raising our future citizens, and carrying on life in this difficult, but beautiful place.

Most importantly, this week holds another anniversary in these parts. That of Hurricane Katrina and the Federal Flood. I don’t want to wax on about those pivotal events, only to say that we’re still here. The real work of recovery, of looking at our past and future and determining how to heal our inequalities, is just beginning. There is so much opportunity and hope; it is a really exciting time to be in New Orleans.

In honor of both events, I want to share the NOLA love. I’m hoping for comments from folks that read but haven’t commented before… just a lil’ shout out. I confess that since moving to coldspaghetti.org (two!) years ago, I haven’t been tracking traffic and I have no idea who is visiting or from where. (See, I wasn’t kidding about not being on top of the website.)

Make a comment here between now and September 1st — particularly if you’re new to coldspaghetti or never commented before — and I’ll send a NOLA-themed gift from a NOLA-based artist to one repeat commenter and one new commenter.  Selections will be made via random number and I’ll announce names on September 2nd.

Glasses raised to joie de vivre — no matter where you are!

If I start now, maybe by Christmas I’ll be caught up on all the thank-yous we owe for the past week. To say that we are humbled by how our friends have supported us through all the craziness is an understatement.

Re-entry to the U.S. after time abroad has historically been hard on us… job layoffs, yellow-jacket attacks, coughing fits that lead to popped-out ribs, identity theft, car failure, malaria-like illness with hospitalization… those are the sorts of things that welcome us back to the States. We figure it’s karma at work. That we have been so lucky in work and travel abroad that things have to go wonky at home in order to even out the karmic balance.

This time back found both of us with mild-but-annoying respiratory crud and Kate not quite over a sinus infection. Kate and I worsened, we saw a medical provider and were treated. Then we were exposed to the flu and took steps to ensure no one would unintentionally bring illness into the kids’ school. Then Will broke his arm. Then he broke out in hives so suddenly and completely, with swelling to his face and lips, that his pediatrician encouraged a fast trip the ER (after 4 hours of waiting without treatment, Will’s face swelling subsided and they left without being seen). Somewhere in all of this, it became clear that my lingering crud was not only failing to improve, but getting worse. So yesterday I saw our new primary care physician for a magical breathing treatment that made Every Difference. Other key moments within all the above were our work hours, finding strange black dust on Kate’s bed from the wall (we don’t thing termites, but what…?), my leaving my wallet in the parking lot of the local grocery store, and the truck clutch giving out mid-intersection (close call).

But the real story is how many people have rallied around us.  So many people have sent well-wishes via phone and email.  Paul’s Mom was here to help with Kate while Paul and I cared for Will and his injury.  Emmy and family brought Will a beautiful made-by-kid-hand card, a huge sack of candy and the biggest darn lollipop I’ve ever seen.  Gwen sent Clare’s dry-arm pouch.  Ann Marie brought red beans and rice with sausage and brownies.  Kathryn brought artisan pizzas, quiche and eclairs.  Ecoee and Melody brought a bag of games and made fabulous make-your-own burrito dinner… with cupcakes. 

No really, check this out:

I know.  I KNOW!

Paul and I are so incredibly thankful and feel so completely and totally speechless.  We look forward to returning each favor.  (We’ll step up our culinary skills for it, promise.)

Also?  We are surrounded by the most wonderful, giving, thoughtful people.  Thank you.

Recorded last spring.  On a day she was sent home from school due to illness (tummy troubles).

Kate under normal circumstances is simply impossible to capture in modern video techniques.

Will seemed perky this morning and asked to go to school. We brought him, with pillow to keep his arm up. An hour later, the school called, he was uncomfortable and out of it, and he was ready to go home. (FAIL.)

After dropping Will off at school, I went to Rouse’s to get snacks for my workshop today. I felt very on top of things, running early, getting food for everyone, and having somewhat of an idea of what I was going to do. Until I was out in Kenner, almost to the meeting site, when I realized my wallet was missing. (FAIL.)

After a panicked stop at a coffee shop for a phone book and a call to Rouse’s, who had my wallet, (WIN!), the truck clutch gave out in a major intersection. (FAIL.)

Thankfully, no one hit me, I survived near collision, and managed to figure out how to drive it the rest of the way. (WIN!)

—

At the advice of Paul, I managed to drive the car home. The conversation went something like this:

Me: “I almost died.”

Paul: “I think the problem is due to engine heat.  You should be able to drive it home.”

Me: “What, to the morgue?”

Paul: “Really. It’s happened to me a bunch of times. It should be fine after sitting for a few hours, as long as you don’t drive it for too long.”

Me: (Silence.) “Well, okay. But how long is too long?”

Paul: “I dunno. Just don’t drive it long enough for the clutch to start to stick again.”

Me: (Silence. Pondering if I should write a quick will?)

—

Things perked up big-time when Emmy and kids brought treats for Will.  Will had just woken up from a 5 hour nap (hello, drugs!)  I’m not sure if he even remembers there was candy involved, but he hasn’t put down the card Ana made for him for one second.

One may think that this video is showing Will on drugs, but in truth, the meds had worn off.  (He trips even heavier when heavily medicated.) This is just Will being Will.  He’s telling me about teeth, why the fall out, and what holds them in until they fall out… with a surprise at the end.

He was so proud of himself.  Even though he had to jump up to reach them, once his hand held, he swung  across those monkey bars with confidence.  When other children approached, he kindly demonstrated the hang and swing, dutifully encouraging others to try, too.  But then, that’s just our sweet guy.

Finally he complained that his hands were hurting.  He showed Paul his palms, which were beginning to show signs of blisters.  “Maybe you should take a break?” Paul suggested.

“Just one more time,” Will said.

And he jumped and grabbed the first bar with his right hand.  But before he could grab the next with his left, he slipped in mid-swing, coming down on his left arm.  He jumped up in a scream so fast Paul said it was as if Will’s body had bounced on the pavement.

—

Paul, the parent with experience in broken bones, was extra helpful to Will while we went through the ins and outs of x-ray, exams, and setting the splint.  Among Paul’s finer stories: the pain of x-rays, discomfort while sleeping, itching, and gross things that come out of casts.  Still, that’s probably better than what my face looked like when I cut off the make-shift magazine cast that held his arm from playground to hospital.

Both bones are broken in his left arm, a little above his wrist.  The ER at Children’s was terribly busy, so we didn’t get to see the x-rays.  He’s in a hard splint until the swelling goes down and then back to the orthopedic for more x-rays and setting later this week.

Kate’s first caregiver, Ms. Gladys, (blog mentions of her are here) retired last week.  I used to hang out with Gladys when Kate was a baby. Usually it was to nurse (since Kate was adverse to the bottle and I am adverse to the pump) but sometimes when I’d go in for that afternoon feeding, it was hard to leave. I’d help out around the room, giving a bottle, changing a diaper, or rocking someone to sleep. The perk was that it meant I got to talk to Gladys. Gladys can tell it straight, but has a way of gently leading you to the answer so that you come to it in your own time. She is such a wonderful listener that it is easy to get carried away and babble on and on to her soft affirmations. Eventually, it got easier to ask her questions. This was how I learned about her daughter, Ardis, who died shortly before the Flood came and engulfed their home, taking with it most of their physical memories.

Abeona threw a big surprise retirement party for her last Saturday, with people there representing her 27 years of service.  We helped a friend put together a book, scanning pictures and sending photographs from Abeona’s first three years.  She did a fantastic job on the book, which included photos, stories from families, scanned art projects, and memories reflecting many years of work. But I wanted to do something else and asked for help from staff to make it happen.

As I understand, it took some serious work to get this photograph scanned — the last one taken of Ardis. 

As usual, I forgot about taking photographs of the process until I was well into the piece.

This was my toughest portrait to date, mostly because I was so very nervous to do it.  It felt very personal and, in a way, invasive to be doing this as a surprise.  She hadn’t asked me to do this because she felt I could do the job correctly — it was something I was just doing.  What if there was something I missed?

This is the only finished photograph I have — I didn’t take any of it in it’s frame.

Even now, I’m at a loss of what to say about it.

This is Ardis.  She was a beautiful, smart young woman born to an amazing, compassionate woman.  It was a pleasure to draw her.

Will’s last summer camp performance included the kids singing along to Jimmy Buffet. Paul and I felt that it was too strange to hear Jimmy Buffet without adult beverages, so we concluded that parents should be encouraged to play drinking games at kids performances. It would go something like this: Drink when your kid does X on stage.

Most likely, the drink list would include:
— Nose picking
— Tooth wiggling
— Crotch grabbing
— Lip pulling
— Butt picking
— Yawning
— Staring off into space while other kids sing
— Making excuse of stage time to hold hand of cute girl or boy,
or,
— Stage diving.

The stage dive wasn’t captured on video. Which is probably a good thing, as we’re trying to keep our un-insurable people ratio at 1:1.

Maybe he can get some extra points for speaking French?

Will’s been working on sight words in the past few months and has been working up to actually putting them all together. In the French system, reading isn’t emphasized (particularly in French) until 1st grade. During Kindergarten over the last school year, he had English 2-3 times a week for about an hour each time. I didn’t think that it would actually amount to much. We read regularly and have helped him build his words as he’s learned to write, but there was no heroic effort on our part to push skills on him. Yet, here he is… working on completing a Summer Reading program that requires his reading a dozen English books and 3 French books.

I felt his reading this book was particularly appropriate.

Especially since he now has ANOTHER loose tooth.