"Another belief of mine: that everyone else my age is an adult, whereas I am merely in disguise." - Margaret Atwood

Dropping Si off at preschool this morning, Jude cried because he wanted to stay. I told him we had to go home, but we would work on potty-training so he could go to St Andrew’s next fall. So, an hour later, he looks up at me from his trucks on the floor and says, “Me work on my potty train now.”
So I say, “Ok, let’s go sit on the potty.”
“No! Me build my potty train now.”
Light bulb clicks on – how do I explain this one? Do I turn the potty seat into an engine? Will that work? Ack! It's the newest Thomas character, Stinky the Port-a-Potty Engine.

Help. I so cannot cope this morning. I didn’t sleep last night because at one point or another both boys climbed into and then out of my bed, and I also have a raging headache. And I woke up at 4 with such an awful cramp in my hips that I truly thought I was in labor until I managed to shift myself. God, I hate mornings, and this one in particular.

I have been referring to the city website for public school/magnet school application information and deadlines. Where, it came to my attention this morning, all the dates are WRONG.

This is a process fraught with huge stress and anxiety anyway – you are only allowed to apply to one magnet school, and then you wait to hear if you – um, I mean your child - got in via lottery. If you are wait-listed, then you can apply to another magnet and start all over again. You can of course just go to your neighborhood school - unless it sucks – which ours does. Or you can do what everyone else in this city did and move to the suburbs where there are no sidewalks, but there are a lot of soccer moms discussing the benefits of organic milk and precut baby carrots (ok, I stereotype, but if you met my SIL you would understand!), and terrific public schools.

And also now we have returned to Square One in the Catholic school/public school debate in this household. My husband is a raised-Catholic atheist. I was raised fundamentalist Baptist and pretty much avoid all organized religion whenever possible. So do we suck it up, ignore our principles, and get the kids baptized to get them into the desired Catholic grade school? Deal with my kids learning about things we don’t believe in? Pretend we do believe while dealing with school admin and other devout parent-types? (They will without doubt go to the Catholic all-boys high school my husband and every other male in his family have gone to since time immemorial, but there’s a big difference between sending a 5-year-old to religious school and sending a 13-year-old to religious school.)

I hold the position that if we chose to live in the city because it’s a good place to live and only if normal people live here and try to better it, will it get better, then we should also support the city’s school system. But my idealistic husband, who is generally on the same page, loses all idealism and social conscience when it comes to the kid, and is ready to be baptized himself if that’s what it takes to get him into Catholic school. Let other idealistic parents support the public schools – their kids can suffer, ours will not. So not only do I feel as if I am being a bad parent because I continue to insist we live here and not skedaddle to the suburbs, but also because I actively want my kids to go to the public schools.

And I thought pregnancy and labor were difficult.


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Gina said in a post last week:
Carolyn’s post from last night made me think again about what will happen to my parents when they get old. It's easy for me to pretend that I won't have to worry, because my grandmother is 81 and still works full-time as a home-health nurse and is a CERTIFIED FITNESS INSTRUCTOR who teaches "Sliver Sneakers" classes at the Y.

As much as I like to assume that my mother will follow that lead, I don’t suppose I can. So can I take my parents in if/when they can no longer live on their own? I’m willing, of course, but will I be able? Will I have the skills? Will I have the money? Will they?

Here’s my take.

I have the good fortune (or perhaps bad fortune, depending on when you catch me) to not have to worry about this particular issue, at least in regards to my parents. My dad’s been dead for 18 years, and my mother for 7. However, while my father died suddenly, my mother lingered for a couple months, going through first transplant hopes, then palliative cancer care both in the hospital and a nursing home. I crumble under the weight of everyday mundanity, but boy do I kick some ass in a crisis, and I was so on top of my game.

But – and this is a huge but – there was easily enough cash to sustain decent care for the few short months we needed it (and I had my act together enough to get my mom signed up for her Medicare benefits the day she turned eligible age). There was always an end in sight - I never had to wonder how many years the situation was going to linger; it was really only a matter of months, if that.

I also was foresighted enough to obtain power of attorney, so I could pay her bills and make medical decisions when she was unable. If you have elderly parents/relatives living with you, this is something VERY important you need to consider and discuss. My mom would have happily buried her head in the sand - which is some of the reason we didn’t find out she was so sick until it was too late to do much – but uncomfortable and stark as it may be, these issues need to be discussed.

I have made VERY clear my viewpoints and wishes about life support, feeding tubes, etc., to my husband. I have discussed with him in great detail what is and is not acceptable for me, and what is to be done with my body after death. Maybe I am morbid, but I like to see it as being prepared and making his life easier in the instance of my death. I have also listened carefully to his views and wishes. And if you have parent/s living with you, it’s that much more important since you as their child are probably not the default decision-maker or caregiver.

There was also no question that my mother HAD to be in a nursing home – the care she required was far beyond anything any of us could offer at home. That made some decisions a bit easier at least. If you feel you have to decide between home care/home nursing and a nursing home, it can wreak emotional and practical havoc. It adds a new dimension to an already difficult situation.

Now I have already made it clear to my husband that if and when his parents need help, I am there. They can live with us; we can contribute cash if needed; I will do whatever it takes, as if they were my own parents. Not necessarily because I adore them but because I believe in respecting and loving and caring for your elders. Some of it is all about karma and some of it is about being a decent person and being able to live with yourself. They are both completely healthy, but you never know from one day to the next what can or will happen.

I never really felt like an adult until I cared for my mom during her illness and death. And I think in some regards, you aren’t fully an adult until you’ve been through the death of your parents. But in my infinite wisdom and knowledge – HA! – I have to say these two things, to all of you who have to think about this and may have to deal with it one day:

1.Discuss all the options before it’s reality, before you HAVE to make a decision.
2.Make sure your parents know what you can and are willing to do, and what you absolutely can’t, and discuss how they can help or make it easier in the future.

In most cases, you all love each other, and nobody wants to be a burden. Keep those things firmly in mind.

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Now I am off to eat another piece of coconut cake for breakfast. Perhaps it will make me feel better.

Oh, ok, and REM was just on Sseame Street singing "Furry Happy Monsters." Life just got a bit better. Michael Stipe cavorting with muppets pretty much warmed the cockles of my heart. Although what's with the Kirstie-Alley-lookalike Muppet?