BLINK AND YOU MISS IT /  by Micaela

Let me just tell you all that I am blown away by what a big kid Roan is these days:

1. He is speaking pretty much in full sentences now. Not Shakespeare, more like caveman ("Roan take scooter to park") but we are having actual conversations. And actual arguments.

2. Instead of saying "yes" he says "alright".  We have no idea where this came from.

3. He is now riding his scooter rather than pushing it around like a lawn mower. The helmet is mandatory.

4. He may be a soccer phenom. At least among 2-3 year olds. He kicks like he means it.

5. Today he woke up from his nap, climbed out of his crib, and took everything out of Sam's bedside drawer including a tube of chapstick which he smeared all over himself. He then knocked on the door so I would let him out, awash in the smell of beeswax.

6. He asks me at least 10 times a day if he can drive.

Wow, do they grow up in a big ol' hurry.

REMEMBRANCE OF THINGS PAST /  by Micaela

Weill Cornell, the hospital where Lula died, looks to me a little bit like a cross between the British House of Parliament and a Mormon Church.  I suppose that's appropriate since medicine now seems to occupy a precarious middle ground between government and religion.  It's a building that will always be sacred to me and full of the most weighted memories of my life.

The pediatric unit held a service this week in remembrance of all of the children that died there in 2011.  They had 2 large trees with branches made of felt onto which a leaf with each child's name was affixed.  There were probably 50 kids names, but not nearly so many loved ones in attendance.

There were some lovely moments.  My favorites were a quartet of teenage boys from Laguardia High School singing "What a Wonderful World" a cappella, and a middle aged clown from the big apple circus singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow"  while strumming a tiny banjo.  Other parts were painfully awkward but the fact that it was a homespun affair complete with ward clerks reading Emily Dickinson and singing nurses made it all the more sincere.  I pretty much kept my head down since the waterworks are on full blast these days with almost no prompting.

There was a lot of self congratulation on the part of the hospital staff for putting this event on, and I suppose this was as much for them- to remind themselves of the momentous emotional rollercoasters that they are a part of every day.  I think it can be a case of self survival in such an environment to shut some of it off, but it is occasionally important to stop and feel things for a moment or two.

Dr. Howell, who really was the woman who helped us to decide that it was time to let Lula die, was there.  She is a brilliant clinician who has obviously had the best training and experience possible but she also has an inherently maternal soul, which you either have or you don't.  Somehow it allows her to be empathetic and professional at the same time.  I was telling her about the passing of Lula's spiritual partner in the battle to be heard from inside of an uncooperative body, a friend of a friend named Kupajo Janda (Paj).  After Paj came down with a mysterious cerebral virus that put him in a coma, his family and friends waged a relentless battle for 7 months to get him the best treatments and care possible despite endless resistance from hospital administrators and doctors.  His circumstances made me realize how amazing the PICU at Weill Cornell was, and as I told her about Paj Dr. Howell knew exactly why;  she said "it doesn't matter how good a doctor is or how right they are, if they don't establish trust with their patients families their knowledge is meaningless".  I think the only way you can let go of your child without an unsurpassable mountain of doubt and fear is when you know that the best of everything has been done by the best people to try to help them.

It was a little surreal to have a sort of reunion of people who were part of such a tragic but powerful experience, like a high school reunion meets a funeral.  I don't think things like this bring closure-  I don't believe in closure, really- but it allows you to feel the distance you have from that moment.  It's a little sad but a little comforting to know that the sadness safely resides in this monolith full of other persistent souls.


TRUCKIN /  by Micaela

Despite all that Brooklyn has to offer you sometimes find yourself at a loss for things to do with a two year old.  This is how Roan, Sam, and I wound up at the dubiously named Touch a Truck fundraiser for PS 295 in Park Slope.  There were fire trucks, garbage trucks, tow trucks, school buses and the like.  Even the DJ was on a truck.



There were also, as per any Brooklyn school event, absurdly long lines.  There was no chance I was waiting 20 minutes to experience the inside of an NYC garbage truck so we opted for the least interesting of all, namely the Home Depot pickup truck.  Seriously, the inside looked pretty much the same as our minivan but Roan was happy to tool around in it and pretend to pick up day laborers on the way to the job site.


It was a pretty great idea for a school event and it was raising money in a way that didn't involve selling sugary baked goods so all in all I think it was a good way to pass an overcast Saturday afternoon.


Trying to make an escape

LULA'S BAUBLES /  by Micaela

My friend Elizabeth is super - multi talented.  She has a full time job, a full time personal business, and she's mom to Charlie who I commonly refer to as the third twin since all the kids were due on the same day (mine and hers).  She's been busting her butt on her incredible jewelry collection this year and, like every mother I know can't seem to find the hours in the day to get everything done.  Somehow, however, she found time to be this thoughtful.  She sent me this note the other day:

I've named a new collection after little Lula - inspired by the little flower she was
Lula earrings

Lula headband

 
Lula is acquiring a brilliant collection of honoraries, no?

LULA'S BUBBLES /  by Micaela

While Extreme Kids is saving the lions share of donations made in Lula's name for a future space, they couldn't resist buying something amazing on her behalf.  It's a sensory bubble tube, and the kids absolutely love it.  It's calming and gives off a lovely light and a gentle hum. It changes color and bubbles away like a teapot.  Lula would have totally loved it.



DIRT DON'T HURT /  by Micaela

It's refreshing that in the controlled and concrete fields of NYC playgrounds one can still find dirt.  I took Roan to Underwood Park which is a huge three part playground rife with multitiered climbing frames and herds of swings. It's one of the best in the hood, but incredibly the choice spot of the day was a side patch of worn grass to which all the kids were drawn.

Diggers

They all worked in tandem with studied concentration for longer than I have ever seen with Roan before. The parents all stood around in amusement and horror at the extreme laundering we knew was in our futures.

Roan actually in the hole

As Sam said later, Roan looked like something out of a Walker Evans - Farm Security Administration portrait from the dust bowl.  Minus the robots.



SPRINGTIME /  by Micaela

A glorious spring is already pushing it's way into summer in New York, which has led to the most incredible extended blossoming season in recent memory. The trees have been like this for weeks:
Fort Greene Park flora

Warmth leads to rebirth leads to renewal leads to new shoes leads to shopping.  I find myself perusing.   Perusing leads to things like this:


I have never been a huge shopper for the kids - I got so many hand-me-downs I really didn't need anything - but seeing a lovely dress that I might have bought for Lula somehow solidifies in very tangible terms how gone she is.  I so miss dressing her.  Apart from needing access to her g-tube nothing mitigated the fun of it.

Choo train pinafore

Buying clothes for Roan doesn't offset that one bit, partly because boys clothes tend to be so utilitarian or even downright frat boy-esque.  I have decided that I am going to do my best to channel a little of Lula's whimsical style into Roan's outfits, so I bought him aqua Thai fisherman's pants and gold sandals.  He digs it.

TA DA!
A spring in his step!

In honor of Spring Roan bought the love of his life (aka Ana) some flowers and insisted on carrying them home all by himself.



Here's to Spring: a new beginning.

NON-SECULAR /  by Micaela

We got hoodwinked in to going to church for Easter by my mother. I haven't been to a service in years and years but all that "free" babysitting had to catch up with me eventually and mom called in her chips for Easter.  Plus, who doesn't love an easter egg hunt?

Roan lasted approximately 4 minutes into the service before he became impossible, which was pretty much what we were hoping for.  Sam and I took him out to the bucolic garden for the rest of the service where he ran around and chatted with a homeless lady named Mary who was reading the paper on a bench.




 

Towards the end of the of the service my mom came out, rallied the egg hiding crew, and took Roan back in to the church.  She came out ten minutes later and casually said, "Well, Roan just had communion.  I don't know how that happened!"  She handed Roan his easter egg basket, and continued, "He just got handed a wafer and then stuck his hand in the wine and the priest said 'have him lick his fingers' and that was that!" Oy.  There is no such thing as free babysitting.  We moved on to egg hunting.





We had a lovely day but I think that's enough religion to last us for a while.

ZOOTOPIA /  by Micaela

My mom and I took Roan to the Prospect Park Zoo this week. It's not very grand but it's perfect for a toddler. We fed sheep, ogled turtles, and stared down meerkats. Last time we were there Lula had a bonding moment with an alpaca so I went and said hi to them.

We stumbled on some sort of training session with the handlers who were herding two Cape Baron Geese down a path. Ethel and Roan took a distinct interest in each other.



LAUNDRY BLUES /  by Micaela

Lest you think that we are training Roan to be on a chain gang in "O Brother Where Art Thou?", I will have you know that we have no idea how that got there. 


Video courtesy of Sam

LATCHKEY KID /  by Micaela

I remember so well the prevailing fear of all 1970's New York City parents that their children would become latchkey kids.  To call someone's child a latchkey kid was akin to accusing them of raising their offspring on nothing but Tab and episodes of What's Happening.  The horror...



ONWARD AND UPWARD /  by Micaela

I have this perpetual TO DO list on my phone that includes everything from milk and bananas to sort out finances. It's a bit like Tetris in that if the stack gets too big I feel an oppressive need to delete delete delete. I have a compulsion to get shit done. Sometimes I will cheat by adding in a throwaway like get manicure so I can enjoy the accomplishment of erasing something without doing something.

The list stalwarts, ever present and shuffled around like so many piles of unfolded laundry for months or even years, all involve the following: paperwork, bureaucracy, knowing how much money we actually make, and the post office. Thus, I have made a huge push to accomplish these by the end of April:

- Complete wills, living wills, powers of attorney etc
- Nag Sam to renew his expired passport
- Apply for Roan's passport
- Apply for life insurance
- Start Roan's college fund
- Harass Sam about doing his citizenship application
- Apply to preschool for Roan

Clearly we had some catching up to do in our transition to full adulthood from the transience of our previous life but that's what having kids will do. We've gotten off to a decent start until we get to the last two when it all comes to a screeching halt.

Sam has been talking about applying for citizenship for years and it is only his hatred of paperwork and gift for procrastination that has kept him from doing so. He wouldn't have to give up UK citizenship or anything (although he does have to sign a pledge that he is willing to go to war for the US) but he has to write down every single trip he has made out of the us in the last 10 years which involves trying to sort through every wayward stamp in his passport (why don't they just stamp in chronological order??) to come up with an honest time line.

Then there is the matter of preschool. I refuse REFUSE to buy in to the panic that people succumb to in applying for preschool.  Frankly, I think it's a construct that non-native New Yorkers have invented to prove to themselves that they have somehow earned a place in this city.  That said, this application is for Roan to go in 2013. 

We are only applying to one school and that is the Coop School in Bed-Stuy - not too fussy or precious, but fairly progressive and super imaginative.  Roan would absolutely love it. I don't care if he doesn't get in until he's 12, he's going. I had to write an essay about why I thought Roan would be a good fit with the school and I wasn't sure if I should write about Lula.  I don't want every story in his life to be prefaced with sadness, but I couldn't find any way to write about him and who he is without her and the impact she has had on all of us.  It just reminded me once again of her eternal presence in our lives. 

It does feel good to get all of this stuff out of the way and when I am done with it all I am going to celebrate with a manicure and pedicure and that will be the last thing I tick off the list.