Ben's dad, notorious for being as impulsive as they come, was completing a Disney World stint with Ben this summer and was all set to fly home, bags checked through to Sacramento, when United presented an offer he couldn't refuse: "Fly to DC for the night and we'll give you two free travel vouchers and send you back to California tomorrow." Never mind that Ben was exhausted from traipsing around Disney for five days; K (Ben's dad) sprinted up to the podium in record time, procured two new boarding passes and spent the 12 hours in our country's capital.
And Ben can't stop talking about it.
"How was Disney World?" I asked when they returned home. "What was your favorite part?" "Washington DC!" Ben told me. WTF.
Ben went on to tell me that the hotel in DC had a super-fantastic-incredible aquatic center with a water slide. I pushed harder: "What was your favorite ride at Disney?" "The waterslide," he told me. "At your Disney hotel?" I asked him. "NO MOM! THE WATERSLIDE AT THE WASHINGTON DC HOTEL!"
OK, ok. I got it.
It's been two months since the trip and Ben asks me every day when I will take him to Washington DC. This morning, I finally gave in. "FINE! We'll go to the waterslide in Washington DC. We'll go over spring break." Of course I'm telling myself during this whole conversation that I better get damn creative with my airline miles since I just cashed in my last two awards this week for a trip to New York without Ben.
I decided to test out his commitment to DC one last time. We were in the car, always a good time to chat since he's buckled in, held captive, and has to engage at least a tiny bit. "Tell you what," I said. "We can go to Washington DC OR GET THIS...we can take a friend and go to all the amusement parks in Southern California!" Did I mention that I am Mrs. Rockefeller?
Silence in the backseat. Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into? Didn't we decide that camping qualified as a vacation?
"WASHINGTON DC!" he yells in a voice loud enough to stop traffic.
It's one thing to get to DC on award miles; given my spending habits, we'll be there by next week. However, it's quite another issue entirely when the hotel with the godforsaken waterslide is, by my ex's standards, "very expensive." After looking over the published rates on the web, I reasoned that we'd be better off staying at the Waldorf Astoria. Which I am not, by the way, during my upcoming trip to NYC. It is likely that if I was still married that the Waldorf would definitely be in my trip plans. But I'm not, and it's not.
So for now, I'm talking up the super exciting fun trip to Santa Cruz in October with Grandma. And getting this response: "Where's Santa Cruz? Is it near Washington DC?"
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
The Good Doctor
I finally feel like someone understands the magnitude of my sleep issue. Her name is Dr. S.
Dr. S came to me by way of a client referral. She is a renowned specialist of sleep and a sought after neurologist. She takes patients only by referrals and her policy is to interview a patient candidate to determine whether or not said candidate is worthy of paying her consultation fee, which is right up there with the amount of my mortgage payment. Then there is the waiting. It takes a good two to three months to get onto her calendar. Luckily, my client had some pull and I was able to see her just six weeks from my initial phone interview.
After spending almost three hours with Dr. S, I knew that any amount would have been worth it. She is a genius, remarkably brilliant and a scientist. She knew why every medication I've ever taken didn't work and carefully explained, in terms that I could understand, exactly why the approaches taken before were so unsuccessful.
I started to tear up in Dr. S's office because of her ability to empathize. I felt like she could see into every challenge I've had in my life that has been a direct result of being so damn tired. Many times, she'd make a connection: "So, if you're tired, then this probably happens. And this. And if you're REALLY tired, then you're experiencing this. Or this. Oh yes, dear. And that too."
I think she called me "dear" no less than 500 times. At the end, I got a "sweetie." I think it would have been a hug, under different circumstances, but she is a highly respected doctor, after all.
Dr. S gave me an assigned reading list, some research to look at and a follow-up appointment. She also gave me the best thing of all: a promise to help me rest. I keep hearing her departing words: "I will help you dear. I will figure this out for you."
Thank you, Dr. S.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Dr. S came to me by way of a client referral. She is a renowned specialist of sleep and a sought after neurologist. She takes patients only by referrals and her policy is to interview a patient candidate to determine whether or not said candidate is worthy of paying her consultation fee, which is right up there with the amount of my mortgage payment. Then there is the waiting. It takes a good two to three months to get onto her calendar. Luckily, my client had some pull and I was able to see her just six weeks from my initial phone interview.
After spending almost three hours with Dr. S, I knew that any amount would have been worth it. She is a genius, remarkably brilliant and a scientist. She knew why every medication I've ever taken didn't work and carefully explained, in terms that I could understand, exactly why the approaches taken before were so unsuccessful.
I started to tear up in Dr. S's office because of her ability to empathize. I felt like she could see into every challenge I've had in my life that has been a direct result of being so damn tired. Many times, she'd make a connection: "So, if you're tired, then this probably happens. And this. And if you're REALLY tired, then you're experiencing this. Or this. Oh yes, dear. And that too."
I think she called me "dear" no less than 500 times. At the end, I got a "sweetie." I think it would have been a hug, under different circumstances, but she is a highly respected doctor, after all.
Dr. S gave me an assigned reading list, some research to look at and a follow-up appointment. She also gave me the best thing of all: a promise to help me rest. I keep hearing her departing words: "I will help you dear. I will figure this out for you."
Thank you, Dr. S.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank you.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
Kindergarten Part Deux
Ben is back in Kindergarten, for the second time since "he did so well the first time." At least that's what we're telling him; the real truth being that he has an October birthday and we thought another year of the program could only benefit in the long run.
We were lucky enough this year to land a spot in the coveted Montessori main campus, located in Fair Oaks. Montessori aims to blend grades wherever possible so Ben is in a K/1 combination class this year. Just to be clear, our Montessori is not a private program; rather, it is a charter school with what I like to call "all the benefits of a private school without the tuition." The kids were uniforms, the classes tend to be smaller and there is a huge push, from as early as Kindergarten, to expose children to such subjects as zoology, cultural studies, current events, practical life skills and, my favorite, handwriting. Yes, I feel very blessed to be a part of a school that is not suffering from California's financial hardships. No, I do not like the daily drive which cuts out a full two hours from my day.
I finally feel like we have a sense of community with all the parents and children who have joined us at the new campus. Ben has three friends, two of which he has known since before his first birthday, who are in the program. The mothers of these children are all very dear to me.
As long as I can keep a flexible work schedule and some sanity with all the running around that I'm doing (anyone selling a Prius?) I believe that we can keep Ben in his new school and that he will thrive. And did I mention that it goes through 8th grade? I love that aspect and the added benefit of clustering middle grade children into groups of just 17, who then rotate to the various middle grade subjects.
We have much to look forward to and I'm feeling blessed to be a part of such an amazing and innovative approach to learning. Maria Montessori, in my view, is a saint. And California, despite all its flaws, finally did something right by recognizing the importance of this style of education and making it available to people seeking 21st century learning styles for their children.
Ben's First Day
Ben and longtime friends, L and K
Ben's long-lost pre-school buddy, A (poor A had a very painful elbow fracture just prior to school starting. Ben has designated himself as A's special helper. All good intentions and deeds then derailed on Back to School night when during a race between the boys, Ben reached out and grabbed A by the sling. A good sign that the night was most certainly over!)
Back to School Night (before the sling grabbing incident!)
New friends at Back to School Night
We were lucky enough this year to land a spot in the coveted Montessori main campus, located in Fair Oaks. Montessori aims to blend grades wherever possible so Ben is in a K/1 combination class this year. Just to be clear, our Montessori is not a private program; rather, it is a charter school with what I like to call "all the benefits of a private school without the tuition." The kids were uniforms, the classes tend to be smaller and there is a huge push, from as early as Kindergarten, to expose children to such subjects as zoology, cultural studies, current events, practical life skills and, my favorite, handwriting. Yes, I feel very blessed to be a part of a school that is not suffering from California's financial hardships. No, I do not like the daily drive which cuts out a full two hours from my day.
I finally feel like we have a sense of community with all the parents and children who have joined us at the new campus. Ben has three friends, two of which he has known since before his first birthday, who are in the program. The mothers of these children are all very dear to me.
As long as I can keep a flexible work schedule and some sanity with all the running around that I'm doing (anyone selling a Prius?) I believe that we can keep Ben in his new school and that he will thrive. And did I mention that it goes through 8th grade? I love that aspect and the added benefit of clustering middle grade children into groups of just 17, who then rotate to the various middle grade subjects.
We have much to look forward to and I'm feeling blessed to be a part of such an amazing and innovative approach to learning. Maria Montessori, in my view, is a saint. And California, despite all its flaws, finally did something right by recognizing the importance of this style of education and making it available to people seeking 21st century learning styles for their children.
Ben's First Day
Ben and longtime friends, L and K
Ben's long-lost pre-school buddy, A (poor A had a very painful elbow fracture just prior to school starting. Ben has designated himself as A's special helper. All good intentions and deeds then derailed on Back to School night when during a race between the boys, Ben reached out and grabbed A by the sling. A good sign that the night was most certainly over!)
Back to School Night (before the sling grabbing incident!)
New friends at Back to School Night
Monday, August 24, 2009
Letting Go
I think I might finally be surrendering. Just a little. Or growing up. Or getting wiser and more mature, or maybe realizing that there is so much beyond my control that I can only sit back and really try and let go.
Case in point:
Ben was with his dad this weekend. Or he was supposed to be. Until K (Ben's dad) got called to work an overtime shift and K handed over parenting responsibilities to Dana, his (relatively new) girlfriend. These were responsibilities of the 24 hour order: playtime all day, dinner, bath, bedtime routine, wake-up, breakfast, the whole drill.
To be clear, K would normally call me under such circumstances but he knew that I had a very important (and expensive) training to attend in San Francisco. Apparently Dana was up for the task.
And to be honest, I was actually OK with the whole idea. Not because Dana is a long-time girlfriend who has been on the scene for months and months (she's not and she hasn't been), nor because I knew that Ben would be easy to take care of for a 24 hour shift (he's definitely not).
For the first time, post-divorce, I realized that K is going to make decisions for Ben that don't involve me and the best that I can do is hope that K is keeping Ben's best interests at heart. I don't like that Ben goes to bed late when he's with K and I don't like it when K runs Ben halfway around the world and back, only to drop him with me, tired and jet-lagged. But I do know that K loves Ben more than life itself and he would never entrust Ben's care to just anyone.
I went about my classes this weekend, not at all concerned with what was happening in Folsom with Dana and Ben. The report is that they had a great time swimming and playing with Dana's nieces and nephews and that Dana stayed the night and Ben was just fine.
Now, I don't know how I'll take the news of Dana moving in or assuming more of a maternal role in Ben's life but I do know that Ben will always have only one mommy and that this mommy is wise enough to let go when it doesn't make sense to hold on any longer.
Case in point:
Ben was with his dad this weekend. Or he was supposed to be. Until K (Ben's dad) got called to work an overtime shift and K handed over parenting responsibilities to Dana, his (relatively new) girlfriend. These were responsibilities of the 24 hour order: playtime all day, dinner, bath, bedtime routine, wake-up, breakfast, the whole drill.
To be clear, K would normally call me under such circumstances but he knew that I had a very important (and expensive) training to attend in San Francisco. Apparently Dana was up for the task.
And to be honest, I was actually OK with the whole idea. Not because Dana is a long-time girlfriend who has been on the scene for months and months (she's not and she hasn't been), nor because I knew that Ben would be easy to take care of for a 24 hour shift (he's definitely not).
For the first time, post-divorce, I realized that K is going to make decisions for Ben that don't involve me and the best that I can do is hope that K is keeping Ben's best interests at heart. I don't like that Ben goes to bed late when he's with K and I don't like it when K runs Ben halfway around the world and back, only to drop him with me, tired and jet-lagged. But I do know that K loves Ben more than life itself and he would never entrust Ben's care to just anyone.
I went about my classes this weekend, not at all concerned with what was happening in Folsom with Dana and Ben. The report is that they had a great time swimming and playing with Dana's nieces and nephews and that Dana stayed the night and Ben was just fine.
Now, I don't know how I'll take the news of Dana moving in or assuming more of a maternal role in Ben's life but I do know that Ben will always have only one mommy and that this mommy is wise enough to let go when it doesn't make sense to hold on any longer.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
Thanks for the Memories
How can you complain about anything, anything at all, when your employer is located around the corner from your home, and in addition to paying you well, also includes a full family gym membership with beautifully maintained swimming pools and opportunities to bring friends and family in for swim dates?
Not to mention, flexible scheduling so that you can pick your child up (from the club's day camp, of course) and jump straight into the pool between clients.
This may be the last summer that I'm able to spend the afternoons with Ben and I tried to savor every single minute, even the times when he splashed me in the face, knowing full well that I had to return to work within the hour and the times when he insisted that I swim with him, despite the fact that several children around his age were also swimming.
We started off in the wading pool with the toddlers. I never thought we would make it to the "big" pool, but after two weeks of swim lessons, we did. Ben "practiced" his strokes all summer, even the dreaded back float...
And after a bit of peer pressure, Ben learned that the diving blocks and jumping off the "10" end (as in 10 feet), was kinda fun...
We've had three playgroups there (and as a side note, this playgroup has been meeting since the kids were 9 months old! The mamas are all great friends and three of the five kids will be attending the same school next year. We love our playgroup friends, and moms too!).
DNC has seen countless swim dates. I like these because I can actually sit outside of the pool, preferably in the shade with good reading material, while the kids play under the watchful eye of the very capable lifeguards...
Yes, it has been a good summer, indeed. Thank you, DNC, for providing yet another season of outdoor fun and such a wonderful place to call "our home away from home."
Not to mention, flexible scheduling so that you can pick your child up (from the club's day camp, of course) and jump straight into the pool between clients.
This may be the last summer that I'm able to spend the afternoons with Ben and I tried to savor every single minute, even the times when he splashed me in the face, knowing full well that I had to return to work within the hour and the times when he insisted that I swim with him, despite the fact that several children around his age were also swimming.
We started off in the wading pool with the toddlers. I never thought we would make it to the "big" pool, but after two weeks of swim lessons, we did. Ben "practiced" his strokes all summer, even the dreaded back float...
And after a bit of peer pressure, Ben learned that the diving blocks and jumping off the "10" end (as in 10 feet), was kinda fun...
We've had three playgroups there (and as a side note, this playgroup has been meeting since the kids were 9 months old! The mamas are all great friends and three of the five kids will be attending the same school next year. We love our playgroup friends, and moms too!).
DNC has seen countless swim dates. I like these because I can actually sit outside of the pool, preferably in the shade with good reading material, while the kids play under the watchful eye of the very capable lifeguards...
Yes, it has been a good summer, indeed. Thank you, DNC, for providing yet another season of outdoor fun and such a wonderful place to call "our home away from home."
Monday, August 10, 2009
Moving Right Along
Let's move past that last post. It's caused me way more grief than I ever intended.
So, moving along...right into the school year!
School starts one week from today. Holy cow! Where did the summer go?
We had planned to have Ben enrolled back in Kindergarten and we just learned that he has been placed into a K/1 combo class. He'll be moving to the "big" Montessori campus this year, which is significantly further from my home, but is much more "campus-like" than the old school. Two other good friends are also joining us at the new campus. Each child is in a different kindergarten class but they'll all spend time together at lunch and at recess.
Since school and extracurricular activities go hand-in-hand, we're also gearing up (literally and physically) for soccer season. Soccer starts tomorrow night. Ben is excited because not only is he playing with his "best" girl, Lauren, but Lauren's dad is also the coach of the team. Ben gets positively giddy every time we talk about his team.
After a busy summer of day camp, real camp, Ben's trips and unstructured days at home, I'm ready for the school year, long commute and all. Bring it!
So, moving along...right into the school year!
School starts one week from today. Holy cow! Where did the summer go?
We had planned to have Ben enrolled back in Kindergarten and we just learned that he has been placed into a K/1 combo class. He'll be moving to the "big" Montessori campus this year, which is significantly further from my home, but is much more "campus-like" than the old school. Two other good friends are also joining us at the new campus. Each child is in a different kindergarten class but they'll all spend time together at lunch and at recess.
Since school and extracurricular activities go hand-in-hand, we're also gearing up (literally and physically) for soccer season. Soccer starts tomorrow night. Ben is excited because not only is he playing with his "best" girl, Lauren, but Lauren's dad is also the coach of the team. Ben gets positively giddy every time we talk about his team.
After a busy summer of day camp, real camp, Ben's trips and unstructured days at home, I'm ready for the school year, long commute and all. Bring it!
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Life In Hell
I forgot to call my dad on his 70th birthday. I think he's going to disown me, but not before my stepmother slips some cyanide in my Chardonnay.
I'm in deep shit.
There are two ironies here:
The first is the big 70th party that is planned for Saturday. The party that I have had on my calendar for weeks. The party that I have been writing a speech for. The party that has been occupying my thoughts so much lately that I let it take the place of my dad's birthday.
The second irony is the fact that I don't forget birthdays. In fact, I made a special effort to remind my ex-husband of his mother's birthday, just yesterday, to which he replied, "Oh, you are so good with birthdays!" And then my knees went weak (not because of his compliment or his charm) as I remembered that my own father's birthday had come and gone three days ago.
"Wait," I thought. "How could that be? The party isn't until Saturday!"
I tried this argument with my dad on the phone yesterday but I don't think he bought it.
What really stinks is when you can sense the disappointment in someone's voice and you know that you are the reason.
And then it really sucks when his sidekick, or wife, gives you a greeting that is so chilly that you'd swear that the icicles were practically hanging from her mouth. She even tells you to forget about the speech, there probably won't be time for it anyway.
So, you just figure, now's the time to pull out all the stops. Get the tattoo. Mention the new 30-year-old object of your affection. Spend Ben's college fund. Go to town. You're already in hell, anyway.
I'm in deep shit.
There are two ironies here:
The first is the big 70th party that is planned for Saturday. The party that I have had on my calendar for weeks. The party that I have been writing a speech for. The party that has been occupying my thoughts so much lately that I let it take the place of my dad's birthday.
The second irony is the fact that I don't forget birthdays. In fact, I made a special effort to remind my ex-husband of his mother's birthday, just yesterday, to which he replied, "Oh, you are so good with birthdays!" And then my knees went weak (not because of his compliment or his charm) as I remembered that my own father's birthday had come and gone three days ago.
"Wait," I thought. "How could that be? The party isn't until Saturday!"
I tried this argument with my dad on the phone yesterday but I don't think he bought it.
What really stinks is when you can sense the disappointment in someone's voice and you know that you are the reason.
And then it really sucks when his sidekick, or wife, gives you a greeting that is so chilly that you'd swear that the icicles were practically hanging from her mouth. She even tells you to forget about the speech, there probably won't be time for it anyway.
So, you just figure, now's the time to pull out all the stops. Get the tattoo. Mention the new 30-year-old object of your affection. Spend Ben's college fund. Go to town. You're already in hell, anyway.
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