Who You Gonna Call?

Since my mom's gotten sick, I've had lots of time to reflect on it, on her, on our relationship.

(Quick health update: She's seen some success in shrinking the tumor, though not enough. In the meantime, she recently had a series of strokes. They're not sure why but it could be due to the cancer. The drug used for most people to temper these strokes is heavily processed through the liver, so that's not an option. But she is OK for the most part and still living on her own at home.)

The thing I keep coming back to -- the thing that will be most devastating -- are the phone calls.

I call her when I'm happy, I call her when I'm sad, I call her when I'm bored and stuck on the freeway. I mean, I literally call her every night on my way home from work. And then there are the weekend Facetimes with the kids. (and, yes, please note that I'm calling her. It's the nature of our relationship.)

I thought of it today after I took the Kindergarten tour at my daughter's future elementary school.  I saw the cafeteria, the playground, the classrooms. I walked out of the school gates and started crying. How is it possible that my little girl is now old enough to enter real school?

I thought of what brings me comfort and headed straight for Starbucks for a latte.  When I got back to the car, I was listening to lame music on the radio and thought, "I want my mom."

My mom is absolutely the first person I call when I need a hug. Usually even before my husband.

I called her when I didn't think my husband wanted to have kids (turns out he was just a little freaked out by the whole idea).  She comforted me in a way only a mom can.

A year later, she was the first person (after my husband) to find out I was pregnant.

I called her when my daughter went to daycare for the first time. "How long do you have to leave her there?" "20 more minutes." "OK, maybe go get a coffee and then it will be time to get her." 

She was right.

So it seemed only logical that I would call her today.  She was with my brother and sister in law so I didn't want to keep her long. But one of the first things she did say was, "Maybe you should get a latte to feel better." "I did. That was comfort number 1.  You're number 2." "Well, it's good to know you have priorities," she laughed.  "I don't want to keep you when you have people over." "OK, but you can call me later if you need to." "I will."

And I will -- I'll call her again tonight on my drive home.

Plan B and a Salty Girl

well, it turns out Plan B didn't take. we got the news earlier this week. basically our borrowed time is just that -- and it's unclear how much we have.

i've spent the week grieving and i anticipate that won't end any time soon.  the nice thing about knowing you're on borrowed time, however, is reflecting on all of the amazing, joyful, ridiculous moments that make up this life.

my mom stayed with us for 3 weeks recently, so of course i have stories.

while out here, my mom really wanted to pitch in w/ the kids. that was awesome. she made us dinners (that were often destroyed by one of us losing it. weeknights are hard), read them books and did laundry. so awesome!

my daughter -- nicknamed Sunny D by my sister for her cautious, kept demeanor -- was often cold to my mom.  i know it bugged my mom but there's not a lot you can do with a strong-willed girl. i shrugged it off as being 4 and told my mom as much.

one afternoon, D asked my mom to make her soup for lunch. my mom jumped at the chance to fulfill the request.  i came downstairs to my daughter sitting by her very full bowl of soup saying she didn't want it. i was a little surprised -- it's her new favorite soup -- but it's somewhat typical for a 4 year old so we made her something else.  my mom took it as another example of Salty (nee Sunny) D.

a little while later, i was cleaning the kitchen and got to the rest of the soup sitting in the pot. it looked very dense. "mom, did you add water to this?" "no, was i supposed to?" "it's condensed soup so, yes." "oh. i'm not used to that kind." (it was campbell's)

she later told my brother that she thought she had cooked down most of the liquid, which means D was basically left with a bowl of salty chicken and noodles. my mom made good with her second try: a grilled cheese.

Stage 4

It's been a long time since the last post. A lot has happened.

In the fall of last year, things came to a screeching halt.

My mom was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. (She's alive so don't think that this is THAT post.)

My brother canceled his trip to L.A. for my kids' birthday.

My mom canceled her trip to L.A. for Halloween -- even though she really wanted to wear her terrifying horse costume.

My daughter and I rushed to my mom's house.  By the time we got off the plane, my mom herself had been rushed to the hospital for severe pain. She spent the rest of our trip there.

She's gone through chemo and radiation in an attempt to shrink the tumor clinging to her liver.  The plan kind of worked: it shrank, just not enough.

I'm back with her now as she goes into surgery for Plan B. If this takes, she'll probably be having surgeries for the next 14 months.  If it doesn't ... I don't want to think about it.

That's the thing about this blog. I love teasing my mom for her idiosyncrasies and weird choices, I love seeing those things manifest in my everyday decision making and parenting. But at the end of the day: She's my mom. She's the one I call every day on my way home from work.  She's the one I look to -- and look exactly like.

My biggest hope right now is that she gets well so I can get back to posting her crazy stories. I love her so much.

Dear Diary ...

As we all know, my mom has a history of being, well, inappropriate. So you can imagine my utter shock when she all of a sudden told me that *her* mother tells her too many details about her sex life.

1. I don't need to know that my grandma ever had a sex life (I'm quite sure she doesn't now and I'm holding on to that no matter what).

2. Hello, Pot. Meet your mom, Kettle.

It seems my mom forgot that she told my brother the Craftmatic story. Or that she used to tell me about my dad writing in SWH (sex with husband) on her Palm Pilot calendar.  Not one to let her get away with that shit, I reminded her of the 2nd one. "How do you know that? Your dad told you?"

Yes, my dad, who was the MOST modest told me about your sexcapades. Um, no. (He would be mortified if he had known that fun fact.)

It's funny because she recently got her old diaries back (she didn't remember giving them to me back in high school either) and keeps talking about how she didn't remember things as they happened.

Also, I finally got up the nerve to read my baby book to her -- the part where it says I was induced after 2 weeks, not a month. "Well, they gave me a pill." Um, OK, yes then?

I just wish she had always kept a diary. I think her self perception would be VERY different and she might start piecing together some of the puzzle that is SJS.

Luckily for all of us, I've kept a diary for her here.

Stuck in the Middle With You

One morning, my mom, my daughter and I went out for a Girls Breakfast.  We were just chatting about the usual stuff when I got a message that my best friend -- who was pregnant at the same time as me and due that day -- had just given birth. Yay! So fun!

So my mom asked about the name. "Oh, they named her after his grandma. So her middle name is his mom's maiden name and her first daughter's middle name is her mom's maiden name."

"I think that's so stupid that people do that."

"Wait. Do what now?"

"Use a maiden name as a middle name."

Here is where I had to pause. Sometimes when you talk to my mom, you get the feeling that *you're* crazy, but then you realize that, no, she is.

"What are you talking about? I just gave my son a middle name based on his dad's grandma's maiden name. And I told you all of that when he was born [2 weeks prior]!"

She became totally flustered (but, I mean, seriously?!). "No that's a regular name."

"Crane is a regular name? Who has the name Crane besides a bird?"


And then she waved it off and I was still so stunned that we just stopped talking about it and moved on. 

Clean Up on Aisle 2

While my mom was here, she said she wantd to cook for us, which she did. That was awesome but she refused to go to the store by herself so she made me -- and my 2 week old son -- go w/ her.

We got to the store and I was fine at first and then, as any new mother would, I realized that all I could see were people's germs and then I just started feeling f'ing tired having pushed a kid out 2 weeks earlier and all.

I  told her I'd be in the car w/ my son and we'd wait for her to come out. 

I was in the car for about 2 minutes before she started calling.

"What do you like to eat w/ chicken?"

"Do you know what aisle the syrup is in?"

"Do you have your rewards card?"

So I went back in, rewards card in hand, baby strapped to my chest.

Of course, because I was so tired, I forgot to ask where the hell she was, so I waded through the sea of people with colds and such and went up and down row after row of foods until I found her ...

standing right in front of the jelly.

"Hide the Jelly and Break out the Rubber Sheets! SJS Is Coming to Town!"

That quote is from my husband once he found out my mom was coming to stay w/ us for 2+ weeks. More on what it means in a second.

See, I was pregnant w/ our 2nd kid and my mom said she wanted to be here to help us with our 3 year old during the birth. "Great!" I thought. And then she immediately booked her flight.

"When is he coming?"
"Well, I don't know. The due date is in November, but you know, the first one came early so this one probably will too. I'll know more once we start internal exams at week 37."

That, however, was apparently not good enough info and she booked her ticket somewhere in the 7th month to be here on the due date.

I reiterated that she was probably going to miss the whole show and that we'd need a back up plan. She responded, "I'm sure he'll wait for his grandma to arrive!"

My son arrived 2 weeks early.

Anyway, she came out 2 days before his due date -- and 2 weeks after he was born.

My husband is a wonderful man who has come to enjoy/tolerate her quirks over the years. One of them is that she loves jelly. She eats a lot of it. She'll go through jars of it.

The other is that she once told him she doesn't wear underwear to bed ("Everyone should air out at night!"). Not info he wanted while she slept on our couch.  Hence the quote.

The next few posts will be dedicated to her time here. There are many more stories, but I have a newborn so these few posts will have to suffice for now.