Mid-March, not yet spring
February / March is birthday season at our house. On February 19th we celebrated Paddy’s 17th birthday – as usual, in the middle of semester break. Somehow it seems much easier to grasp the idea of Christopher being nineteen (in May this year) than of Paddy being seventeen. Seventeen seems to sound almost grown up, and the combination of "my little guy" and "almost grown up" somehow just doesn't really seem to work for me – even though he really is almost grown up and I like very much the way the he can sometimes be quite mature.
At some point Paddy decided that he would like for me to bake a birthday cake for him. Since Paddy has made the best cakes for many years, a birthday cake for Paddy has always been something of a challenge, but I did my best. The hardest part was that trying to play "super mom", baking a cake, working, taking care of various other things at the same time, reminded me more than anything else of the many hilarious exchanges with Amy over the years about more or less futile attempts to play "super mom". Attempting to bake a cake without my sister laughing at my incompetence wasn't nearly as much fun, but I was very grateful that the process was accompanied by comments from some of my friends on Twitter. The final result was hardly inspiring, but at least it was finished, so that we could all have birthday cake with Paddy just before midnight, when we came home from the opera we went to see that evening. By the next day, Paddy had three birthday cakes, since a talented friend made one for him too, and Oma brought her famous walnut cake plus extra apple cake for Christopher. Let them eat cake – lots of cake.
Attempting to continue in "super mom" mode, when I was hanging up laundry a day or so later, I stupidly caught my finger between two laundry baskets. When the tiny wound started bleeding, I decided to stop hanging up laundry and finished doing the dishes instead. This was probably not an ideal choice. The tiny, insignificant wound became surprisingly painful over the next few days, and by the time I went to see our family doctor about it, I had a burning red line running all the way down my finger and starting to spread into my hand. This too is the kind of situation, where I have always relied on my sister to tell me that as stupid as this situation might be, it is a non-trivial matter that needs to be dealt with practically, not just theoretically, which would be my usual preference.
The doctor told me to start taking antibiotics immediately, dress the wound with antibiotic cream and try to keep my hand still, and he told me that if I didn't have a fever yet, I probably would soon. Since I didn't quite take all of this in immediately, as it seemed wholly disproportional to catching my finger between two laundry baskets, I went to the office and sat there trying to figure out how to type without moving my right hand. Sitting there looking at – and feeling – this painfully burning red line on my finger, slowly processing the concept of "blood poisoning" not just as a scary-sounding, abstract idea, it didn't take me long to convince myself that I really wasn't feeling very well at all. I gave up and went home then, wrapped myself in a blanket on the couch and just stayed there drinking large quantities of camomile tea and watching "Lord of the Rings", all three films one after another.
Somehow I suspect that while my immune system was busy dealing with the unexpected and disproportionally alarming situation of "blood poisoning", I also succumbed to whatever bug Peter has been fighting with for weeks and weeks – something like having a cold, not really sick, but not really feeling healthy either, just tired and drained with irritating cold symptoms. I wasn't able to get much work done the last week of February, I wasn't really feeling very well that Sunday, but I went to Amsterdam on March 2nd nonetheless, because I just couldn't face the thought of having to cancel the Wintercamp conference I had been looking forward to for months. I enjoyed the conference, even though the constant feeling of low energy was a bit disappointing and annoying. I've been working long hard hours to catch up again on translation work since then, despite the same feeling of low energy and wishing I could just go back to bed, so that I have the feeling I have earned a weekend of not working now.
Which brings us to mid-March. Everyone else I talk to or hear from seems to be longing for warmer weather, more sunshine and an end to winter, but I don't share that feeling. I don't feel ready to start shedding protective layers yet, to face the challenge of bright sunlight or people opening up in the warmth. I keep hoping it will snow again, because I just don't feel ready to face spring at all yet. I'm afraid that spring will mean that it is time to start letting go, to allow the acute pain of immediate loss to settle into a permanent emotional scar with only an occasional dull throb in response to changes or reminders. I'm afraid it will mean letting go of the boys as they finish school and set off, one way or another, into the big, wide world on their own, leaving their old parents behind and alone at home. Spring, especially this year, means letting go of the past and the now, to be able to grow into a new phase, a new situation of life.
So I am still hoping it will snow again, at least once more.
At some point Paddy decided that he would like for me to bake a birthday cake for him. Since Paddy has made the best cakes for many years, a birthday cake for Paddy has always been something of a challenge, but I did my best. The hardest part was that trying to play "super mom", baking a cake, working, taking care of various other things at the same time, reminded me more than anything else of the many hilarious exchanges with Amy over the years about more or less futile attempts to play "super mom". Attempting to bake a cake without my sister laughing at my incompetence wasn't nearly as much fun, but I was very grateful that the process was accompanied by comments from some of my friends on Twitter. The final result was hardly inspiring, but at least it was finished, so that we could all have birthday cake with Paddy just before midnight, when we came home from the opera we went to see that evening. By the next day, Paddy had three birthday cakes, since a talented friend made one for him too, and Oma brought her famous walnut cake plus extra apple cake for Christopher. Let them eat cake – lots of cake.
Attempting to continue in "super mom" mode, when I was hanging up laundry a day or so later, I stupidly caught my finger between two laundry baskets. When the tiny wound started bleeding, I decided to stop hanging up laundry and finished doing the dishes instead. This was probably not an ideal choice. The tiny, insignificant wound became surprisingly painful over the next few days, and by the time I went to see our family doctor about it, I had a burning red line running all the way down my finger and starting to spread into my hand. This too is the kind of situation, where I have always relied on my sister to tell me that as stupid as this situation might be, it is a non-trivial matter that needs to be dealt with practically, not just theoretically, which would be my usual preference.
The doctor told me to start taking antibiotics immediately, dress the wound with antibiotic cream and try to keep my hand still, and he told me that if I didn't have a fever yet, I probably would soon. Since I didn't quite take all of this in immediately, as it seemed wholly disproportional to catching my finger between two laundry baskets, I went to the office and sat there trying to figure out how to type without moving my right hand. Sitting there looking at – and feeling – this painfully burning red line on my finger, slowly processing the concept of "blood poisoning" not just as a scary-sounding, abstract idea, it didn't take me long to convince myself that I really wasn't feeling very well at all. I gave up and went home then, wrapped myself in a blanket on the couch and just stayed there drinking large quantities of camomile tea and watching "Lord of the Rings", all three films one after another.
Somehow I suspect that while my immune system was busy dealing with the unexpected and disproportionally alarming situation of "blood poisoning", I also succumbed to whatever bug Peter has been fighting with for weeks and weeks – something like having a cold, not really sick, but not really feeling healthy either, just tired and drained with irritating cold symptoms. I wasn't able to get much work done the last week of February, I wasn't really feeling very well that Sunday, but I went to Amsterdam on March 2nd nonetheless, because I just couldn't face the thought of having to cancel the Wintercamp conference I had been looking forward to for months. I enjoyed the conference, even though the constant feeling of low energy was a bit disappointing and annoying. I've been working long hard hours to catch up again on translation work since then, despite the same feeling of low energy and wishing I could just go back to bed, so that I have the feeling I have earned a weekend of not working now.
Which brings us to mid-March. Everyone else I talk to or hear from seems to be longing for warmer weather, more sunshine and an end to winter, but I don't share that feeling. I don't feel ready to start shedding protective layers yet, to face the challenge of bright sunlight or people opening up in the warmth. I keep hoping it will snow again, because I just don't feel ready to face spring at all yet. I'm afraid that spring will mean that it is time to start letting go, to allow the acute pain of immediate loss to settle into a permanent emotional scar with only an occasional dull throb in response to changes or reminders. I'm afraid it will mean letting go of the boys as they finish school and set off, one way or another, into the big, wide world on their own, leaving their old parents behind and alone at home. Spring, especially this year, means letting go of the past and the now, to be able to grow into a new phase, a new situation of life.
So I am still hoping it will snow again, at least once more.
posted by Aileen at Saturday, March 14, 2009
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