Zen Mama Wannabe

A Horoscope to Listen To

Saw my horoscope the other day and it really stuck with me:

You are so accustomed to certain liberties you don’t even know you are free.  Increase your awareness of the ways you’re unbound, uncontrolled and unregulated.  Celebrate the many possibilities open to you. 

It wasn’t just written for Aries – it is a powerful message to all of us, I think.  And it really made me think. 

There are the freedoms to be able to speak out, to cast a vote, to not have to have your head covered, to be able to go out in public alone.  Those seem obvious to us (although having just read and discussed Three Cups of Tea with my kids, I am reminded that those conditions do exist in the world more often than I realize). 

But what really hit me was all the smaller “liberties” I have that go unappreciated day in and day out.  Being able to be a stay-at-home mom for starters.  That privilege means I don’t have to report to a job at a certain time every day.  Ooh, how I hated that!  I hated HAVING to be somewhere at 8:00am every morning.  Sure, some jobs provided more flexibility, but for the most part, I was expected to show up at a certain time every day, stay for X amount of hours, and then “allowed” to go home.  That arrangement never felt FREE to me.  Success, I always told myself, would be creating my own hours, working when I wanted to – not when I was told ordered to do so.

I don’t usually think of it this way, but being a stay-at-home mom means I get to make my schedule.  It would never occur to me to sit around all day and watch TV (for example) but I suppose I COULD do that if I really wanted to.  Other things wouldn’t get done, but I wouldn’t get FIRED for my actions.  Of course I have obligations (kids have to be at this activity or that place, groceries need to be purchased, things need to be done around the house, etc); many days it feels like I am running non-stop all day long, with NO time to (or for) myself at all. 

Yet even with days filled up with commitments and a never-ending To Do list, I have freedoms I don’t even consider.  I can wear what I want each day.  No HAVING to put on a suit, or special work clothes, or even nice clothes for that matter.  I can wear sweats all day if I want.  Make-up is optional (although I don't want to frighten the children)!  How lucky am I??

You don’t really appreciate all these things until or unless you don’t have them.  How many other freedoms can you think of that you enjoy?  Ones you may not even notice or value as “freedoms?”

You are so accustomed to certain liberties you don’t even know you are free.  It is an interesting premise – for ALL of us to think about.  Perhaps you’ll find (as this Zen Mama Wannabe did) that there is much more in your life to be thankful for than you had actually noticed.

Dodging Bullets

Preliminary test results from the doctor visits yesterday showed good news.  The lump on our beloved dog appears to be a harmless fatty tumor (the best case scenario).  The Doppler study on my mom’s carotid artery revealed no blockage and made the technician exclaim, “I only hope MY arteries look as good and plague-free when I am 89!”  Whew!  A good ending to a long day. 

We dodged some bullets, avoided being struck down, and for that this Zen Mama Wannabe is truly thankful.  I don’t kid myself however; the fight is hardly over.  When you reach Old Age, as both my mother and our 4-legged companion have done, once you engage in battle, you are in it for the duration.  This round may have gone to us, but the war is hardly over.  We will get fired upon again.  I just hope we have a reprieve for a while…to savor this victory and enjoy daily living, and build up our energy for the next round.

My mom and I next have a neurologist appointment on our calendars.  The hospital technician thought they might order an MRI of her brain, so they could see if she has had any TIAs (or mini strokes – which is what they think she had that caused her original problem).  New information will be gathered and we will take it all one-step at a time.

A quick Goggle search on TIAs provided some eye-opening info from the American Heart Association: over a third of the people that had have one or more TIA go on to later have a stroke.  In fact, half the people have the stroke within one year of having the TIA.  Her father and brother had strokes – significant ones.  This is definitely something to keep on our radar screens.

So yes, I am so grateful my mom is doing well and no blockages were found.  But do I feel we are through with this whole episode?  Unfortunately no.  Bullets were dodged but chances are this is far from over. 

But Life and all its busyness goes on.  School projects and homework assignments continue.  Garages need to be organized; miscellaneous boxes still need to be unpacked.  Playdates and birthday parties continue to occupy our time.  It’s easy to forget that we didn’t take a hit.  Previous worries have dissipated – at least temporarily – and sometimes it is like it all never happened. 

I try to remind myself to take a deep breath.  To take a moment to give my thanks.  No hits, no casualties.  Yes, it was a good day. 

Is the Waiting Really the Hardest Part?

Have you ever woken up in morning filled with nervous anticipation – wondering what the day ahead would bring?  Ever had doctor appointments scheduled in the hopes of providing answers – possibly answers you may not want to hear?  You wonder how to brace yourself for potentially bad news.  And you try to think positive, because of course you believe in the power of positive thoughts and all that.  But you wonder, when you crawl back into your bed at the end of the day, will your life have been changed?  Will you have shed tears?  Will you get to continue on down the path you were on?  Or, will you find that you are being forced led down a different one (a path no one chooses to explore)?

I have a vet appointment this morning and a Doppler study to go to this afternoon.  The former is to examine the lump I found over the weekend on my 13+ year-old dog.  The latter is to do an ultrasound of the carotid artery on my 89-year old mother to determine if there is a blockage there.  Both appointments should provide useful information.  Yet each has the potential of taking me down a road this Zen Mama Wannabe really does not want to go down…ever yet. 

Dog owner or not, you probably know that 13 is considered old for a big dog - even one like mine who is in great shape.  People are shocked every time they find out how old she is.  She really looks great.  But…she doesn’t hear very well anymore.   She has arthritis in her hips, and moves slower these days (more regally I like to think).  She doesn’t run or play anymore, and the bulk of her days are spent sleeping away on her dog bed.  Yet, she still likes to be where I am, will still make her way up the stairs if I am upstairs and lay down near me in whatever room I am in.  She still pops up immediately when she sees her leash, eager to go on a walk (which are definitely more like leisurely strolls these days).   She is still a big sweetie pie and has truly been the best dog you could ever ask for. 

That being said, I know 13 and a half is old.  Some big dogs live to be 16 (because I seem to meet dog owners who, after being so surprised mine is so old, proceed to tell me all about their big dog and how long he or she lived – and we all stand around and marvel at their good fortune).  But chances are we won’t make it to 16.  At least I think that every time I walk in the house and no longer get greeted at the door.  For about 30 seconds I am convinced she is lying there “stone cold dead” and my heart drops to the pit of my stomach until she FINALLY hears me, picks up her head and then slowly staggers to a stand. 

Of course, one day, whenever it is, she is going to die. I know that.  I’m just not sure I’m ready for that.  I’ve had her ever since she was a 8-week old puppy that fit in my hands.  She was with me BEFORE I had kids, before I even knew my husband….SHE was my baby, my one and only.  And even though I have demoted her to a much lower spot on the family totem pole than where she used to be or deserves to be, she is still my sweetheart -- which is why finding the lump on her filled me with dread. 

Ditto all of that with my mom – but add to it because she is MY MOM.  Mama.  My last living parent.  Even though I feel I haven’t had enough years with her, she has lived a long time.  If she died tomorrow, everyone would tell me that she lived a good, long life.  Thankfully she is, relatively speaking, in very good health.  She could have many more years on this Earth.  And yes I know, every day people die -- young AND old.  It can happen to any of us.  But when you get to be 89, death becomes a little more prevalent in your life.  It is something you think more about.  It is the white elephant in the room that gets too big to ignore.

Her appointment today up in the Radiology department of a nearby hospital could go just fine. Or, they could discover something – which would propel us down a different path entirely.  One I am hoping we are not meant to go down.

I feel like all I can do this morning is wait.  Wait for each appointment.  Wait as I hold each one’s hand (paw) for the testing to be done, for the results to be given.  Wait and see what door we are going to open, what path we are going to walk down.  Sometimes the NOT knowing is the hardest part of all.  But only sometimes. 

Can't Judge a Book By its Cover

Have you seen this YouTube video clip that is circulating around?  Please overlook my lack of technical ability (I sadly cannot figure out how to embed a video in this article) and just click on the link the old-fashioned way.  You really need to watch this. 

This particular recording of what transpired on the hit show Britain's Got Talent is roughly 7 minutes, which I know sounds like a long time to sit there watching, but the time will FLY by, trust me.  I normally hate these "Oh you just have to watch this" type of thing, and therefore usually don't, but my sister's note in an email last night compelled me to take a look.  Yeah, this clip has been flying around the internet -- and yeah, it really is one you have to see.

I have now watched it several times, and each time this Zen Mama Wannabe gets MORE teary-eyed than before!  Goose-bumps run up and down my arms.  Words come to mind like "extraordinary" and "stunning" and "incredible."  How many life lessons or teachable moments can you come up with -- from just those 7 minutes? 

I felt like I just had to know more about her story; after a quick Google search, here is what I came up with. (Better to watch the clip first, then read on).

• Susan Boyle is 47, currently unemployed (but maybe not for long!) and lives alone in the house she grew up in. 

• Both her parents are deceased, with her mother dying only 2 years ago.  It was her mom who wanted her to try out for the show, who believed in her daughter's talent and told her she could win.  Once she passed away, Susan finally got up enough nerve to give it a go. "I wanted to make her proud of me," Susan says of gathering up the courage to try out.

• Susan was "ruthlessly mocked" and bullied as a child because of her frizzy hair and a learning disability she has struggled with ever since being starved of oxygen at birth. To escape the torture from the other kids, she turned to singing.  (Guess who is having the last laugh now).

• She has always longed to find love and romance, unfortunately lacking from her life as her parents didn't want her to date.  Never married, never even kissed, she says her only real regret is not being a "mum" as she loves children and wishes she could have had her own family.  She has given up on that dream, but still holds out for finding love.  

Quite something, eh?  I bet we have not heard the last from this "frumpy" woman from a small village in Britain who is inspiring (and teaching!) millions from all around the world not to judge a book by its cover.  Well done, Susan Boyle!

How do you Say Good-bye?

I got word that one of my aunts is not doing very well.  Okay, let’s be blunt (although I choke on the words): she is dying.  She was a big part of my life growing up and a wonderful lady – then and now.  I was fortunate to get to talk to her briefly on the phone yesterday.  As I dialed the phone, I knew this would be the last time I would hear her voice.  And part of me couldn’t help but wonder…how do you say good-bye – when you know it really will be a final good-bye?

Her voice sounded surprisingly strong and she made reference to her situation.  She said she was tired and something to the effect of just waiting for it to happen, for her to depart.  And I can’t help but feel I was offered an opportunity there and I blew it.  She was being honest, and instead of meeting her with the same bravado she put forth, I played it safe.  I murmured something and the conversation went on – when what I really wanted to ask was, “Are you scared?  Are you okay?  Do you feel anyone else’s presence there with you, waiting for you to cross over?  Do you know how loved you are?” 

I didn’t go there because I decided in a split-second to play it safe.  How often do we do that?  Take the easy path because there might be a bump ahead in the road we can’t see.  I told myself I didn’t want to upset her, that without being there to take her hand and see her face, my words might come across as too insensitive.  Yet she spoke about her situation honestly; how I wish I could have responded the same. 

Mostly though, I was trying to pass on to her how much I loved her and what a very special lady she is.  I was trying to be strong without turning into a blubbering idiot and it just got to be too much for me.  I don’t know if she was aware of my voice cracking at the end.  I don’t think I said anything to really help her with what she is going through right now; I just know selfishly I got to hear her voice and it sounded just the way I remember it – and that is what I am hanging on to.

I really find it hard to talk about (or write about) without crying -- and my husband can't help but wonder why.  Why it is affecting me THIS much?  My aunt is in her 90’s; she has lived a full, active life.  She lives in another part of the country; I haven’t seen her in nearly 4 years (although I would have seen her in February if I hadn’t gotten so sick and missed that family get-together).  Not only has this Zen Mama Wannabe lost loved ones very near and dear to me before, but I studied gerontology and end-of-life care intensively when we lived in NYC.  I was even thinking of getting a master’s degree in it.  It is not something foreign to me.  So I don’t blame him for wondering what is going on here with me this time.  And the simple answer is:  I haven’t a clue.

I wonder if loss gets HARDER to take as we get older?  It is not a logical assumption, because one would think you would get used to it more each time you experienced it.  But maybe as you age, you also realize how fragile and special relationships and loved ones really are.  Certainly not anything to take for granted.  Even though most of the time we still do. 

Maybe it is that as my cousins are saying good-bye to their mom, I am feeling the dread of having to do that when the time comes with mine.  A little projection, perhaps.  If my mom died tomorrow, everyone would say she too lived a long, worthwhile life.  But part of me feels like it can never be long enough for me.  After all, your mother is your anchor – I know it will feel very strange to have that heavy piece gone once and for all when it does happen.   

Or maybe I am just becoming entirely too hormonal – I won’t rule that out too.   For good or bad, seeing their mother tear up is not an unknown sight to my kids.  (You just try reading one of Patricia Polacco’s books out loud – like The Keeping Quilt for starters – I dare you to tell me you made it through without SOME sort of reaction). 

I am sure it is bits of ALL those things that are adding to my sadness.  I can’t help but think that usually we don’t get the chance to say good-bye.  It is usually a phone call after the fact, like it was when my dad died, when all you can do then is mourn.  So if you are fortunate enough to get the opportunity to talk to someone as they are getting ready to leave this world, what do you say?  And can you do it for their sake - not yours?  I can't help but wonder, when given the chance, how do you say good-bye?

One Word to Sum it All Up

AGH!  May I say that again?  AGH!!!!  That’s it – that’s my word; quite frankly, that is my life right now.  Some people have easy-going lives that plod along, staying the course amidst any turmoil.  Not the case for this Zen Mama Wannabe.  My life is so upside down, inside out, high, low, and everything and anything in-between.  I don’t know which end is up – but that is ok, because as you all know, you cannot keep a good Zen Mama down for long.  I am slowly getting back on my feet, back in my groove – so look out, World! Well, soon enough anyway.

It is hard to find me right now among all the moving boxes.  They are piled so high and crammed so full – and they seem to be multiplying!  Going from a big house to a smaller house is tricky, even with a storage unit, which is also packed so full a little mouse couldn’t make its way in!  The move was one we WANTED to make.  Yet it came up on us suddenly and having my mom break her wrist (her right one of course – and naturally she is right-handed) in the middle of it all just added to our chaos.  I spent hours at the hospital on 2 separate occasions leaving my husband to deal with the bulk of it.  We both agreed it was what I should do – but it didn’t help with the stress level moving brings about.

We feel unsettled, not at all situated in our new digs.  Each day that I get the kids fed and dressed  (yes, in clean clothes) and off to school feels like a major accomplishment.  I unpack box after box and don’t seem to make a dent in the sea of cardboard we are surrounded by.  Our priority has been making this go smoothly for the kids – and thankfully they are such happy children that they don’t seem phased by it all.  Confession time:  my son couldn’t even play in his Little League game last weekend (the movers had just left the night before) because we couldn’t find his mitt or cleats.  I mean, come on!  How pathetic is that?!  And yet, he didn’t sulk or complain or throw a fit, as one might expect a young boy who LOVES baseball as much as he does might do. 

And my dear husband, who can’t stand disorder or too much mess in his environment, hasn’t said one word to me on why can’t I get more done during the day.  In-between taking the kids to school and to all their various activities and helping my mother with all the many things, including taking her to physical therapy 3 times a week, I find my days used up on “other” stuff when all I really want to do is get the house in order for us.  

I want to be done with this part of the process (the dreadful unpacking process and making things fit when the space is entirely different than you previously had).  I want us to be outside, enjoying our new scenery and all this spring sunshine (especially as they keep predicting rain in the forecast in the week ahead).  We traded being surrounded by redwood trees in a beautiful, tranquil spot for a newer development right on the bay, where people are always out walking on all the bike paths and enjoying the saltwater air, and where it seems even getting your mail can become a social event.  I’m ready to move on to the next part and yet instead feel bogged down in the very worse way by endless boxes, packing paper and that ridiculous moving tape all over everything. 

And the worst thing is we seem to have lost a key piece to our coffee maker/espresso machine, making the latte side of it unusable at the moment.  On top of everything else, no morning latte??!  Ooh you really know how to kick me when I’m down. 

This week promises to be more of the same:  school, activities, hand therapy appointments, and overdue thank-you notes from my Little One’s 5th birthday party that took place 4 days before the movers showed up (just to add to the hecticness of it all).  And of course there is the quest of getting rid of more boxes – and possibly more stuff (I think part of the problem is we just have too much stuff!  Remember what I said about downsizing being "the new black?" Why didn't I listen more to my own advice?!)

So let me just vent one more time:  AGH! – and now I will get back to work.  Baby steps, right?  I just wish I could slow down my roller coaster life for just a bit so I could get caught up.  But until I figure that out, I will just try to take it one thing box at a time.