Posts from — August 2010

Welcome back to IComLeavWe. It stands for International Comment Leaving Week, but if you say it aloud, doesn’t it sounds like “I come; [but] leave [as a] we”? And that’s sort of the point. Blogging is a conversation and comments should be honoured and encouraged. I like to say that comments are the new hug–a way of saying hello, giving comfort, leaving congratulations.

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• The list opens the 1st of every month. It remains open until the 21st. You can add yourself at any point. The list is open to everyone in the blogosphere–blog writers and/or blog readers.
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1. Stirrup Queens (twins, books, writing)
2. Find Joy Now (adoption, joy, life)
3. Anla Knits, no really she does. (infertility, feeling lost, life)
4. Mommie Heaven (toddler, diapers, academia)
5. Weebles Wobblog (open adoption, mindfulness, perfect moments)
6. Musings of a Hormonal Egg Basket (pregnancy after IVF)
7. Bee In The Bonnet (twins, babies, advice)
8. ErnieGirl (pregnant infertile birthmother)
9. Infertility Musings (ivf, thyroid, change)
10. His & Her Infertility (Just Like The Matching Towels) (PCOS, azoo, international adoption)
11. Certainly Not Cool Enought to Blog (childlessness, survival, life)
12. Maybe Baby . . . (or maybe the loony bin?) (infertility, IVF, life)
13. Just Two Lines Away (high fsh, endo)
14. Someday (azoospermia, grief, decisions)
15. Can I Get Some Sugar with These Lemons? (Korean adoption, endo, infertility)
16. In The Middle With You (adoption, infertility, random thoughts)
17. Creating a Family (infertility, adoption, adoptive parenting)
18. Dragondreamer’s Lair (parenting, secondary infertility, crafts)
19. The Miss Ruby (living childless longtermttc)
20. The Maniacal Mommy (motherhood, infertility, pregnancy)
21. Making Me Mom (ivf, faith, emotions)
22. The Road Less Traveled (infant loss, IVF, embryo adoption)
23. The Inadequate Conception (infertility, humor, adoption)
24. No Suzy Homemaker (RPL, IVF, stillbirth)
25. CD1 Again (infertility, life, tests)
26. Planting a Pumpkin Patch (loss, humor, puppies)
27. The 2 Week Wait (humor, TTC, infertility)
28. Baby On Mind (IVF, ttc#1, unexplained)
29. Cradles and Graves (recurrent cord-related loss, IVF #2)
30. Baby Dreams (ttc#2 w/pcos after loss, my son, love dare)
31. Lil Family Blog (motherhood, lesbians, giveaways)
32. Care to Try (pcos, cycles, life)
33. The Infertility Overachievers (IVF success, son, TTC again)
34. Infertile Revolution (infertility, politics, feminism)
35. Somekindofride (adoption, foster care, parenting)
36. On Tap for Today (life, humor, Boston)
37. Are We There Yet (pregnancy, high risk, post-fibroid removal)
38. Infertility And Me (azoospermia, mfi, pregnant)
39. Wistfulgirl’s World (ttc, hyperplasia, life)
40. Baybee Luv (giveaways, reviews, motherhood)
41. Barrenista (barren, adoption, 3-year-old)
42. Random Thoughts From Angie (challenge, ttc, life)
43. believing in june (early pregnancy, marriage, hope)
44. The Bushey Life (pregnancy after infertility)
45. Rotten Eggs? (Ivf, unexplained fertility, coping)
46. Iscrapandco (scrapbooking, travel, randomness)
47. Trying for Two (miscarriage pregnancy ttc)
48. Reproductive Jeans (parenting, photos, next-steps)
49. Our Journey, but Not Our Plan (adoption, infertility, teacher)
50. Accepting the Unexpected (loss, irregular cycles, infertility)
51. Getting There (adoption, infertility, waiting)
52. Stolen Fertility (infertility, emotions, technical)
53. Funny Little Pollywogs (embryo adoption, food, photography)
54. Inconceivable! (unexplained infertility, ivf#1)
55. Chois-R-Us (adoption, life, waiting)
56. Lifeslurper (miscarriage, donor eggs, 40+)
57. The Journey to Our Three Little Kilos (infertility, ttc, miscarriage)
58. Life in the Last Frontier (open adoption, infertility, life)
59. Fearlessly Infertile (IVF #2, military, random)
60. Melissa’s Thoughts and Realizations (ivf, hypothyroid, miscarriage)
61. Stress Free Infertility (stress free tips, advice, success)
62. My Ordinary Miracles (IVF survivor, twins, toddler)
63. Flogging the Muse (art, painting, creativity)
64. Jen’s Seven From Heaven (embryo adoption, children, family)
65. 3 Babies, 2 Jens, 1 Cause- Embryo Adoption (embryo adoption, our adopted blessings)
66. Savor the Moment (infertility, the beginning, humor)
67. An Unexpected Life (infertility, adoption, sadness)
68. Chasing Mommyhood (IUI, single, endo)
69. Through The Eyes of a Stranger (infertility, life, general)
70. Among the Blossoms (infertility, mfi, randomness)
71. Lily in the Valley (infertility, marriage, stepparenting)
72. Trying not to scream (infertility, loss, trying again)
73. You Call Me a Bitch Like It’s a Bad Thing (ivf, pgd, fibroid/myomectomy)
74. Blawnde’s Blawg (first IUI, 2WW, infertile but hopeful)
75. First & Only IVF (ivf, infertility, loneliness)
76. Carney Exploits (fertilty school unemployment)
77. My Path to Insanity & Beyond (IVF, FET, life)
78. Days Of Our Lives (life, daily events, and adventures)
79. Project Baby (infertility, donor sperm, hope)
80. Dreaming of Quiet Places (ponderings, emotional abuse recovery, my cute dog)
81. Mommy in Waiting (ivf, mfi, hope)
82. The (In)fertility Diaries (adoption, life, ttc)
83. Autism Mom Rising (autism, spirituality, overcoming adversity)
84. ChicknChicken (infertility, miscarriage, trying to conceive)
85. Going For It (IVF #2, MFI, low reserve)
86. Your Great Life (fertility health, infertility support, happiness within)
87. Inconceivable! (ttc, step-parenting, life)
88. DearFutureBaby (infertility, adoption, judaism)
89. Peace, Love, and Starbucks (life, school, TTC)
90. Spermination Station (first trimester, life)
91. Confessions Of A College Angel (random, life, family)
92. wanna bee (adoption, loss, craftiness)
93. A Greater Yes (embryo adoption, infertility)
94. Mama Bear (adoption, infertility, pregnancy)
95. Stumbling Gracefully (motherhood, acceptance, letting go)
96. The Big Green Easy (gardening green cleaning)
97. A Little Bit of Life (pregnancy after clomid, marriage, life)
98. Jamie and us now and forever (foster-care adoption, 4 yr old daughter)
99. Ambivalent Womb (mfi, ivf #3)
100. The Rocky Road to Motherhood (ivf, infertility, life)
101. A Little Blog About the Big Infertility (IVF #4, loss, bad eggs)
102. The Barreness (infertility, sadness, hope)
103. An Infertile Blog (infertility, diet, life)
104. Missing Baby Carriage (pcos, iui, bfp)
105. Keeping my eyes on Jesus (IVF, faith, miscarriage)
106. Quebecoise et bilingue : a Quebecker’s Bilingual Blog (Quebec, life, happiness)
107. Hannah Wept, Sarah Laughed (life, infertility, Judaism)
108. It Is Tuesday, Right?? (frozen cycle, motherhood, general insanity)
109. I Spy A Family (adoption, motherhood)
110. The Deep Breath Before the Plunge (infertility, ttc 4yrs)
111. The Panda Diaries (pregnancy, home birth, depression/anxiety)
112. Knocked up by Another Man (DE-IVF, bedrest, Alaska)
113. Musings of an Everyday Weightloss Guru (weight loss, life, fitness)
114. Baby Magnesi (MFI, TTC, IVF)
115. My Lovely Lady Bump (pregnancy after loss, pregnancy)
116. The Barreness’s Blog (parenting after infertility)
117. Life in the White House (donor sperm, life, crafting)
118. SaM’s Town (twins after IF, photography, life)
119. It’s Always Raining (ttc, life, marriage)
120. As Fast As My Baby Can (ttc#1 unexplained infertility)
121. Are You Listening (toddlerhood, life, photography)
122. The Pitter-Patter (IF,TTC, miscarriage)
123. Invisible Mother (miscarriage, recovery, ttc plans)
124. Life: Chats and Rants (life, pcos, ttc)
125. A Virtual Hobby Store and Coffee Shop (news, music, food)
126. Born From My Heart (motherhood, PCOS, adoption)
127. Flucky Mom (parenting after IF, life, tips)
128. Waiting Lisa (adoption, long wait, infertility)
129. Maybe Momma Someday (IVF, early pregnancy, faith)
130. The Infertility Doula (infertility, support, guidance)
131. My Herbal Salve-vation (ivf, infertility, natural remedies)
132. In Pursuit of Parenthood (faith, iui, pregnancy loss)
133. Riding the IVF Roller Coaster (IVF, fail, repeat)
134. While I’m Waiting (MFI, loss, christianity)
135. Adventures of a Dam Engineer (adoption, infertility)
136. Cape Girl’s Journey (pregnancy, IVF, stillbirth)
137. Magnolia Queen (wedding, catholic, family)
138. The Encouraged Egg (IVF, humor, FET)
139. Infertile Follies (infertility, IVF, ectopic pregnancy)
140. That’s My Answer (question of the day, fun, life)
141. Bio Girl (parenting, family, infertility)
142. Waiting For That Positive (ttc, waiting, life)
143. Our New Normal (pregnancy loss, adoption)
144. Cheese Curds and Kimchi (adoption, korea, photography)
145. the list is now closed.  The list for October will open on 9/30

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A: The code is the latest icon (the icon changes colour every month so you know that you’re on the right list). This month, the icon is purple, the next month it will be green, etc. The reason is two-fold: (1) it enables more people to find out about IComLeavWe and (2) it gives you easy access to the current list once the commenting week actually begins and better ensures that you’ll use it. Too many times, people sign up and forget to actually do IComLeavWe and this icon gives you a daily reminder (with the dates on it) every time you open your own blog. The icon is linked back to the current list. On the 28th, remove the icon from your blog. A new one will be created for the next month.

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I have been having kindergarten nightmares.

I know I’m supposed to leave those types of dreams to the kids and instead have more adult-themed nightmares.  You know, like how they get to be chased by furry monsters in their nightmares and I get to be chased by axe-murderers in my nightmares.  Grown-up nightmares about grown-up things.

The dreams can best be described as “rage against the machine” with the machine being everyone who works for the school system.  In my dreams, I have huge, obscenity-filled tantrums on the twins’ behalf.  I wake up feeling like I haven’t slept.

None of our fears have come true — their friend is in their class, their teacher seems wonderful, I even have a volunteer position at the school.  And yet, I have been having these awful, exhausting nightmares.

I sound like a really fun person to live with.

We have been preparing by reading Ramona the Pest.  And discussing Ramona the Pest; namely, please oh please do not hide behind garbage cans if you’re scared.  I did this once in first grade when I was embarrassed because my teacher asked me to stand outside the classroom door for talking during class.  Instead, I ran to the all-purpose room and hid backstage underneath a table, squeezed behind bags stuffed with props for the school show.  I could hear the principal searching for me, hear my sister calling my name after they got her out of class.  I hid until they found me.  I really don’t want the twins to do that.  I am a big fan of people knowing where they are at all times.

*******

We spent six hours last week searching for the perfect backpack.  I thought it would be the Wolvog who would become a deer in headlights over the choice; after all, I spent 45 minutes with him looking at backpacks online before we headed out to the store.  I kept reminding him that this was a low-stakes decision.

In the first store, he picked out a Star Wars ensemble and was done.  The ChickieNob couldn’t find anything that matched the backpack of her dreams, which wasn’t a problem because there were many other stores to check.  So we drove all over the Washington metropolitan area, searching for a glitter-free Disney princess backpack that fit the mental image she held of the Perfect Backpack, the one that would shlep her crap to school and home in an almost ethereal manner.

We started the trip at 11 am and sometime after 5 pm, my daughter stood in front of what needed to be the final backpack display of the evening and her lip started shaking and her eyes filled with tears.  She managed to choke out, “I just want to be excited about my backpack and have it perfect for kindergarten!” and then sat down on the floor so we could rock and cry with her in my lap while the Wolvog patiently examined a display of Lego products.

It really wasn’t about the backpack.

I helped her come to a decision, and the moment we started walking toward the cash register — the deal done — there was a lightness to her face.  She just needed to have that tangible object to cling to in order to get through the door of the school since we can’t actually hold happy thoughts.

*******

The week prior to the Great Backpack Ordeal of 2010, Josh decided that he wanted a sweatshirt while we were on holiday in Chincoteague.  He wanted it to say the name of the place so he could think about this vacation spot once we were back home.

Absolutely understood where he was coming from and walked to the first sweatshirt shop with him.  And then the second and third and fourth and beyond, each of them holding sweatshirts, but none of them holding THE sweatshirt, the one he needed to go home with in order to feel settled.  In order to have a tangible reminder of our frequent vacation spot.

He didn’t sit down on the floor and cry, but did morosely pause to get ice cream during the quest, stating that none of his options were exciting him.  We had a long talk at the ice cream shop, and in the end, before we left, decided to purchase two ice cream store sweatshirts.  They were suddenly THE sweatshirt, even though they hadn’t been contenders when we first started weaving in and out of stores during our walk.  We cranked up the air conditioning in the hotel room so we could wear them while we read.

Why did I indulge all of this — the trip into the ninth circle of backpack hell?  It’s sweatshirt counterpart?

Because it’s a low-stakes way of dealing with the anxiety of the unknown by trying to control the tangible world.  To find the perfect backpack, the perfect sweatshirt.  If we can match those dream images inside our minds, surely we can have control over our nightmares, create a happy experience where the twins have a wonderful time at school, and Josh and I have peace of heart over the idea of the twins starting out their academic career.

Back at Disney World this summer, the ChickieNob and I purchased matching necklaces.  We decided we would kiss each other’s necklace and then wear them throughout the day while we’re apart, and if we missed one another, we could touch our necklace and feel close to the other person.

It’s the comfort of small things.  The perfect backpack.  The cozy sweatshirt.  The necklace that you try to fill with all the intangible emotions; the enormous love.  It’s the difference between what you can see or hold and what only exists in your head.  It’s the difference between what you know and what you understand in your blood and bones.

You know, infertile women and men of America, the whole reason you’re not having a baby isn’t because you have a uterine malformation or clotting disorder. It’s not because you have a non-existent sperm count because you were born without vas deferens. The real reason you’re infertile is because you’re not relaxing enough.

You can thank me now for shining light on that fact.

Actually, it’s not me that you should thank for the fact that this age-old advice has been recycled again. The onslaught of media stories is due to a study in Fertility and Sterility that the media believes supports what the general public has suspected all along. A watched pot never boils. You just need to stop wanting it so much. Take a vacation and then you’ll get pregnant. Do some yoga.

And while stress enzymes very well may affect fertility levels, the reality is that infertility is an umbrella term for a disease that has a myriad of diagnostic paths, one that can’t be boiled down to a simple answer. Yes, not releasing that stress enzyme may help some forms of infertility, but it certainly won’t help the numerous other reasons for why people are infertile.

And beyond that, this case is more about the general public seeing what they wish to see. The study doesn’t actually say that stress causes infertility. Instead, it illuminates the fact that in a case study of 274 women, looking at their first cycle of trying-to-conceive, there were “reductions in the probability of conception across the fertile window during the first cycle attempting pregnancy were observed for women whose salivary concentrations of alpha-amylase were in the upper quartiles.” In other words, if you were stressed during that fertile window on your first month, you had a lower chance of conceiving during that first month. Doesn’t mean you didn’t conceive the second month, but your chances were lower during the first month.

See what I mean? Still not very helpful advice.

But that doesn’t stop the media from proclaiming that stress causes infertility. The New York Times states “Some experts still recite an old maxim: while infertility undoubtedly causes stress, stress does not cause infertility. Now researchers suggest that the two conditions may indeed be linked.” And the The Stir asks if “just relax” is good fertility advice after all (hint: no).

USAToday leads the pack in offensiveness with their opening:

Practically everyone has heard of a couple who, after fertility treatments fail, adopt a baby and then all of a sudden get pregnant … A new study in the current issue of the journal Fertility and Sterility lends credence to a link between stress and time to conception, and not just in couples dealing with infertility.

Want to know the statistical rate of those diagnosed with infertility who conceive after adopting? As stated in my book, Navigating the Land of If, the number is 8%. Want to know the statistical rate for those diagnosed with infertility who conceive without fertility treatments and without adopting? Also 8%.

The Independent goes the women-should-just-stay-at-home-and-make-babies-and-stay-out-of-the-office approach with their opening:

Living life to a tight deadline, juggling appointments and rushing from place to place may harm a woman’s chances of becoming pregnant.

WebMD crows, “There is now scientific evidence to back up the widely held belief that stress can interfere with fertility.” CNN gently reminds readers that “The practical take home from all this is that if you are having trouble getting pregnant, one of the most important things you can do is work on ways to relax.”

Luckily, there is also Rachel Gurevich at About.com who calms the flames by pointing out why the general public shouldn’t return to their mantra of “just relax”:

What the research actually found was that during the first cycle of the study, this stress related enzyme seemed to be linked to a lower likelihood of pregnancy. But, when researchers looked at all the months from the study combined, there was no statistically significant difference. In other words, when looking at the big picture, this stress enzyme did not lead to trouble getting pregnant. Also, as an interesting aside, the study found that higher levels of cortisol – another stress related hormone – seemed to be linked to higher rates of pregnancy overall. Cortisol levels may be higher in those who experience long term stress, while alpha-amylase is related to acute, short term stress. (The difference between having an extremely stressful life, as opposed to an extremely stressful day or week.) However, the article was not titled “Long Term Stress Boosts Pregnancy Success.”

Reading her post is certainly more helpful than the proposed yoga classes women trying-to-conceive should enroll in to reduce stress levels.

What are your thoughts on the study?

Cross-posted with BlogHer.

Thank you for your support this week with the twins heading off soon for kindergarten.  Please indulge me in some more weeping?  I would promise that these will be the last thoughts, though I know they’re not because I haven’t even begun to unpack our 6 hour excursion to purchase a backpack.

And yes, I’m well aware that I sound nut-jobby about the twins, but that is because I am unapologetically nut-jobby about the twins.  And these posts are not just to let out these feelings so they don’t knock around inside my heart all day, but also, I hope that one day they read these and realize how much they mean to me.  How incredibly loved they are.

Jonathan Franzen was on the cover of Time this week (really, the more interesting story is the one from Jen Weiner and Jodi Picoult pointing out which types of writers the media fawns over — hint: they’re white and male).  I only knew this because Josh and I stopped in a Royal Farms on our way back from the beach since my mid-year resolution is to never deny myself a beverage, and the magazine was by the cashier’s stand.  It reminded me of his book The Corrections, which I read and Josh was banned from reading because he had just lost his grandfather.

In The Corrections, the eldest son, Gary, has a wife and sons who make his life miserable.  They’re really infuriating characters so it may not make a lot of sense when I say this, but without the evil inclinations and exclusionary actions, I wanted some of that relationship that Franzen describes when he writes about the mother and sons playing football.  That easy-going friendship they share.  The boys are her partners-in-crime, and I wanted that, though only on the side of good.

Until now, I’ve had that — grand adventures with my two sidekicks.  Preschool cramped our style, but it was only two hours in the morning which gave us plenty of time to take wrong turns while driving to see where the roads would lead or go to the farm or out to Shepherdstown to have a tea party.

This will be the first time their day belongs to someone else.  When kindergarten begins, I lose my job — the job I’ve held for six years — and someone else, someone who doesn’t have the time or energy to listen to every last one of their great ideas and only wants the executive summary will be doing my job of teaching them.  I’ve met their teacher and she is wonderful and kind.  But with that many students, she cannot sit with them for a full hour while they tell her their plans to capture a mermaid.  And so, this job that I have loved (though let’s not forget all the times I’ve also whined about it), is being taken away from me.  My hours reduced.  My favourite tasks outsourced to someone else.

When I read descriptions of the derogatory terms parenting experts throw at other parents, I fit the idea of the helicopter parent, the velcro parent, the hovering parent.  I like to be around because I genuinely enjoy their company.  No one calls me a helicopter wife when I spend inordinate amounts of time with Josh because, frankly, he rocks.  But I am a helicopter parent because I have a lot of fun with them and I want to grab that fun while I can.

(I have long suspected that the reason they do this is not to label us for our own good since how many people would honestly change how they approach life just because they were belittled by a “parenting expert,” but because their terms are the embodiment of their own embarrassment.  Rationally enjoy time apart from your child, but feel guilty because you think it makes you look like a bad parent?  Just call someone who enjoys being with their kids a helicopter parent.  Secretly wish you could grab back some semblance of your life pre-child, but feel guilty admitting how much you hurt over the idea of losing yourself?  Simply write a rant about laissez-faire parents.)

This separation is painful, and there aren’t really any words or thoughts that erase that.  As I said to Allison this week, “It feels like someone is digging out my insides with a spoon.  And it is both painful AND I am acutely aware that they are removing my internal organs.”

So, that’s where I am.

*******

On a more fun note (gee, Mel, why don’t you just pee in everyone’s Cheerios with that Roundup opening … ), I am involved in Calliope and Lindsay’s new brain-child, Who Wants to Know.  It is an everything site — reviews, opinions, experiences, advice, suggestions, giveaways — and I’ll begin writing over there once I get over the kindergarten threshold.  It is a really fun site, and I encourage you to go over, check it out, bookmark it, add it to your feed reader, get a tattoo of the header across your back, and rename yourself after your favourite dessert.

*******

The Weekly What If: what if the universe would magically make your favourite dessert calorie-free (you could eat it indefinitely and never put on a single pound) in exchange for having you walk around for 24 hours with dog shit smeared to the bottom of your shoes.  Would you do it?  You know, for ice cream?

*******

And now, the blogs…

Maybe Baby (or maybe the looney bin) has a post about the realities of IVF vs. what the general public believes.  She admits, “I guess if I have to be here then I am going to write it how it is. I try to keep my blog amusing as I do tend to live my life with glass half full but sometimes it can be exhausting and I don’t want to make it seem like this isn’t hard.”  Sort of wish the New York Times would publish her post rather than some of the drivel they produce about fertility treatments.

It is Tuesday, Right? has a funny post about being strung out on IVF drugs.  From wanting to two-fist oreos to manically making felt bats to getting the crankles, she wonders what the hell will happen if she has to do this again.

I love Infertile Fantasies’s post about being pregnant and conceiving without treatments.  While some may feel that the benefit of not doing treatments outweighs everything else (and perhaps if weighed against everything else, it would), uncareful readers would miss the point — that it is a different playing field which brings out different emotions.  I just thought it was an illuminating post.

Lastly, perhaps because I am already in a weep-tastic mood, Unwellness’s post about her mother moved me to tears.  I love the point she makes about her birthday: “But my birthday… wouldn’t exist without her.”  The post is an unbelievable, raw, stunning post — one you will probably want to reread many times, even if you never knew her mother.

The roundup to the Roundup: having a hard time losing my job.  Check out Who Wants to Know.  Answer the Weekly What If.  And lots of great posts to read.

Again, a post from a while back, but it felt right to post it this week…

There is an old Yiddish folktale that goes something like this:

A man goes to the rabbi and complains about the fact that his house is so loud that he can never think.  His wife is always bitching about something and the kids are always whining.  The rabbi tells him that to solve this problem, he should bring his cow inside the house.

The man brings the cow inside the house and now he has the cow mooing, his wife bitching, and his kids whining.  The rabbi again listens to his problem and states that the solution is to bring his horse inside, his dog inside, his cat inside, and his neighbour inside–one at a time, of course.

By the end of the tale, the man is going insane because he can’t think with the cow mooing and the horse neighing and the dog barking and the cat meowing and the neighbour ranting so he returns to the rabbi one last time and screams, “I need a solution!”

The rabbi tells him to let all of the animals and extra people out of the house.  Finally, it is just the man and his wife and his children and he remarks about how peaceful his house feels after all.

*******

At the beginning of summer, my biggest worry was kindergarten.  The end of school was hard and I spent the first days at home weepy and overwhelmed.  At Disney, we went to see Finding Nemo the musical, and it was as if the story had been tailored solely to neurotic parents of incoming kindergarteners:

You mean so much to me
I don’t know what I would do
In this big blue world
If something should happen to you

Josh raised his eyebrows pointedly at me when Crush and Marlin muse about letting kids grow up.

But what if they’re not ready?
I mean how do ya know?

Well ya never really know
But if they’re ever gonna grow
Then ya gotta let ‘em go
Ya know?
Just go with the flow-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I have a lot of trouble with the concept of letting them go; with going with the flow.

The next day, we got an email from my parents that they had an offer on the house and thus began this crazy, emotionally-turbulent summer of selling and packing up the house, of completing the book edit and extra work that came my way, of frantically working on a new proposal, of teaching the kids how to swim (Nemo!), of my friend giving birth to her first child, of the 1000 other small things that come up in a day, and finally, witnessing the accident.

As each thing left my plate and I was left with only my original fears about kindergarten, they no longer seemed as loud or as frantic as those fears felt earlier in the summer.

My mother asked me if it would have been easier if she had waited five more years to sell the house, and the answer is obviously no–it would have simply been the same difficult process of letting go, just in a different year.  Having more time with a house is not the same thing as having more time with a person.

But there is a part of me that thinks it was like the lesson taught by the rabbi in the old Yiddish folktale.  The one Marlin had to finally learn by the end of Finding Nemo.  The one that motorcyclist learned during the accident.  We can only control our world so much, and as we fight against factors, trying to maintain what we want so badly, we miss what’s right there in front of us–something we could have appreciated if we had just gone with the flow, as Crush would say.

Back in graduate school, I dated a man who had been in the Israeli army.  He told me that when they met at the central bus station to return to base at the end of leave, they used to throw their bags on the floor and rest for the last five minutes before they boarded the bus.  Yam b’zman, they called it–Sea of Time–over how much relaxing they could get done in the five minutes.  They didn’t waste a second of it.

I’m trying to enjoy this last Sea of Time before school begins.  I know it’s not an ending, just a small milestone I need to pass along the road.  There will be time after they’re in school to mourn the quietness of the house.  Right now, as they swim away the last days of summer, I’m trying to go with the flow.