Twas Brillig

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…  Or, you know, something like that.

Actually, it was just pretty normal times.

Last week for family home evening, Brian and I took the dudes to go dog-shopping.  When we bought this house a few months back, there was a beautiful dog run already built into the backyard.  Perfect.  We’d been promising the kids a dog, most especially for our autistic son’s benefit.  It’s amazing how a child who is utterly disconnected from people can have real relationships with animals!

ANYWAY, we went dog-hunting, and did not find the dog of our dreams.  But Bubba, who was never very keen on the dog idea to begin with, found a fish he wanted.  It was a goldfish with some white spots.  Well, goldfish are easy and we already have a fish tank, so we bought him his goldfish, who was instantly named “Nemo” and let the other three kids pick out one fish each.  Princess Fluffy picked a black and orange goldfish and named it Gabriella, after the girl in High School Musical, of course.  Scooby got a fish exactly like Bubba’s, only smaller, and also named it “Nemo.”  (Hahaha.  Sometimes little brothers really REALLY want to be like their big brothers!)  And then Isaac didn’t actually pick his fish, since we were busy trying to keep him from sticking his hand into the piranha’s tank, so we picked one for him that reminded us of him.  Teeny tiny but very spunky.  That one was cleverly named “Fishy.”

We raced home and cleaned out the old 20-gallon fishtank.  Then we carefully filled it with water that was just the right temperature, and we put the little anti-chlorine drops into the water.  The kids were all very eager to release their little fishies from the plastic bags and let them swim free in their new home!

Oh, it was a thing of beauty and joy forever!  Or, at least a joy until the next morning…

Come morning, we had not one dead fish, but two.  Scooby’s Nemo and Isaac’s Fishy were both dead.  Bloated.  Floating along the top of the tank.  Ewwww.  Princess Fluffy and Bubba were almost gloating over the fact that their fishies were still alive, as if they’d done something remarkable and deserved all the credit for their living fishies.

But, a couple days later, Fluffy’s Gabriella lost the Battle of the Fishtank.  Fortunately, Fluffy was never particularly attached to Gabriella (at least not the fish-version of Gabriella) so it wasn’t too big of a deal for her.  But for Bubba, it was a huge deal, for now he possessed the sole survivor.  Victory was his, in the form of a still-swimming Nemo.

Alas, all good things come to an end.  On Sunday morning, Nemo was found floating, bloated, decomposing.  Ewwww.

It was a very, very sad day.  And he has done nothing, NOTHING, but talk about fish, draw fish, ask when I’m going to get another fish, etc. etc.  I told him to drop the subject because I was SO DONE with fish!  “I can’t, Mommy!  I can’t think about ANYTHING but FISH!!!”

Indeed.  And he proved it.

So, today I took him to PetSmart and we bought a beta, because I’m SO OVER Goldfish!  Plus, I’m a big fan of beta fish.  They’re hearty, sturdy, and pretty.  Even Brilligites can’t kill them.  Therefore, I’m a HUGE fan.  In fact, one of my dearest pets ever was a beta fish.  Her name was Lola.  She was a Showfish.  (Please tell my you’re singing Copacabana now…  I would add a music clip, but I’m pretty sure that you’re all sick of those by now.  But just know that I’m doing my very best Barry Manilow impression over here!)  Lola was a drag-queen fish.  Kate and I shared her when we were roomies together.  Ahhh, good times.

I tried to get Blake to name his fishy Lola, but he was thoroughly opposed to the idea.   For he already had a name picked out:

Nemo.

Yup.

So, now we have a beautiful blue-and-red beta fish named Nemo swimming around in his very own 20-gallon tank.  Cross your fingers for us.  I think that if this one meets an untimely demise, it really might be the end of Bubba’s little world!  Oh, I’m not really thinking about him, here, if we’re all being honest.  I can’t stand to deal with him if we have another fish death around here, so it’s purely selfish!

Oh… and we had salmon for dinner tonight.  That was fun to explain to the kids.  “Everyone come sit down and eat your fish!”  hahahahaha.

It appears that I may have accidentally caused a teeny tiny commotion. My last post was a bit negative, discussing how I crash emotionally when I get bad news about Isaac. And then… silence. My friends have reached out to me in remarkable ways. My Crashing post received lots of comments, all of which were kind and supportive and full of love. (Okay, one or two were actually really annoying— ahem, BRYAN— but otherwise everyone was very supportive).

Others of you responded to my silence by sending me wonderful notes:

Novembrance:

I hope all is well with you and yours; are you bouncing back from the recent crash?

Kateastrophe:

My Brilly ran over the ocean

My Brilly ran over the sea

My Brilly ran over the ocean

Oh bring back my Brilly to me!

Kimberly:

Was just thinking/worrying about you today and thought I’d drop a quick note to say I love you to itty-bitty bits.  Mwah!

Eowyn:

I can imagine a few thousand things that could have gone wrong in the last little while for you–and there may even be three or four that might have.  I really hope you are alright–and if you aren’t alright, here’s hoping things will work themselves out in a satisfactory manner sometime soon.

Charrette:

I’m beginning to think you’ve jumped off one of those giant rocks in the Garden of the Gods!
Brilly-pants, I’m worried about you. Are you in the midst of a crisis?
Here’s how concerned I am.
I have contemplated calling you.
Several times. Today.
I think I might just go ahead and do that (just because it’s such an aberration you might be amused.)  :)

And then two notes from Amber, that Mile High Mama and that Crazy Bloggin’ Canuck:

1.  Am worried about you and hope you’re just really busy.

2.  P.S. On behalf of everyone else who thinks you’re dead, perhaps a new post is in order for your site. “Crashing” isn’t the best way to leave things for 1.5 weeks.  Just a tip.

It is, in fact, because of Amber’s last note that I’m finally getting off my duff and writing today.  Because she’s right:  “Crashing” is NOT the way to leave things, ESPECIALLY when my silence has absolutely NOTHING to do with crashing!

I should probably mention this little tidbit:  When things are going really bad, the FIRST thing I do is blog about it.  So while silence from others may mean that they are too overwhelmed with sorrow to blog, that will never be the case with me.  Misery produces my best writing.  Haha.

So where have I been?  On a road trip!  Wheeeee.  Brian had to go to Utah (I know— didn’t we just LEAVE Utah?) for a work conference, so he flew out there, and then the kids and I drove a few days later.  That’s right.  Me.  Four kids.  8 hours on the road.  Oh, and Bubba and Fluffy’s new-found obsession with the Macarena.   (Of course I had to include the song so that you would acutely feel my pain.)

Once in Utah, I dumped the kids off on Brian and dashed off to Charrette’s house, where I hung out with her (and with her kids and hubby a little bit too). Despite the fact that we were both extremely exhausted, I ended up staying at her house until 2:00 a.m.!The next day, Brian and I left the kiddos with his parents in Alpine and drove up to Logan where we stayed the night. The next morning, at approximately 4:30 a.m., I dropped him off at the starting line. For a marathon. His first ever. Brian’s been “a runner” ever since I first met him, but only recently has he started training seriously.  This was a very big day for him and I was so happy to be able to cheer him on from the sidelines.  He finished beautifully, with only one unpleasant puking experience at around mile 25.  He didn’t even lose any toenails.  Apparently, that’s a good thing. 

Then that night we rushed back down to Utah County for his parents’ 40th Wedding Anniversary party.  That was a blast.  Those Brian-ites know how to celebrate.

And then we drove home together.  And when I say “we,” I mostly mean “I”, since Brian somehow thought that he was entitled to recuperate from his marathon.  Hello?  I pointed out that he hadn’t even lost any toenails, but I decided that driving (and dancing the Macarena, of course) was better than HIM driving us… off a cliff.

When I got home, I was overwhelmed with all those mom-duties.  I didn’t even turn on my computer for a couple of days.  There was just so much around home, school, and swim/ballet/piano lessons to catch up on, since we missed a few days of all of those things.

Then, when I started thinking about my blog again, I realized something awful.  I was itching to delete my blog.  The whole thing.  Weird, right?  But I have just started to notice that it is taking time away from the things I really want to be doing.  I want to write a book.  I want to start a new project with a local newspaper (more on that when/if I get it up and running).  I want to spend more quality time with Isaac, who needs me so desperately right now.  I want to train for a marathon (I know, anyone who knows me is going to be completely baffled by this statement, but let’s just say that I’ve caught the marathon bug.  I’ve actually already begun training).  I want to distance myself from stupid Soap Opera Sunday memories.  I want to write something meaningful, but my blog posts continually disappoint me.  I want to stop feeling guilty for not reading every single blog post that every single person on my blogroll writes.  When blogging becomes a distraction, and not a pleasant one, it’s hard to remember why exactly I bother with it.  Let’s face it— those ads in my sidebar are pretty and sparkly, but they pay what would amount to less than 50 cents per hour I spend on this here blog, so that’s hardly a motivating factor.

But then when I opened my email and found all your comments and emails, I suddenly remembered how dear my bloggy friends are and I’m just simply not ready to say goodbye yet.  So, well, you’re stuck with me.  For now, anyway.  Awww, you guys are the best.

Maybe I’ll even think of something to blog about soon.

(Please note that I’m WAY behind on reading posts/emails etc. so if you don’t hear from me for a while, know that I’m trying.  I really am.  But there are all those kids and dishes and unpacking and piano lessons that, apparently, I need to be doing something about.  So please know that I’m NOT DEAD and I AM EAGER to catch up, it’s just going to take a long ol’ time.  Gracias por su paciencia.)

We had another big evaluation for Isaac this week.

Before I get into that, though, I suppose I should explain how outstandingly well he’s been doing lately.  This is, perhaps, why you haven’t read about him much here lately.  I’ve been so hopeful.  He’s started saying words!  His walking has improved and he’s even started climbing!  He uses a few gestures, he looks me in the eye, he cries when Daddy leaves.  These are things we didn’t know if we would ever see him accomplish in his mortal life, and he’s accomplished them right as he was turning 2!

That hateful word, one I can hardly bring myself to type, “normal”, has been tossed around.  People say it to me all the time lately.  His nursery teacher at church, friends and neighbors, even family members.  When my sister and her husband (who is a psychologist, so “he should know”) were in town a few weeks back, they told me that Isaac seems normal.

And when people say this to me, it makes me furious.

That probably doesn’t make any sense to you, Gentle Readers.  It has taken me a very long time to figure this out for myself.  I’ve come up with three reasons for why this makes me so mad.

1.  Saying that he’s “normal” means that they aren’t paying very much attention to him.  I feel like I have to prove them wrong.  “He’s normal” is my cue to give people a list of all the reasons that he’s NOT normal.  I hate this.  I hate going through the laundry list with people, feeling like I have to convince them that he’s not okay.  My motivation is for them to understand him and care enough to get to know him and see that he needs help.  But in the end, it sounds like I’m bagging on him or pointing out only his weaknesses.  I don’t want to be that person who only talks about the weaknesses!

2.  Saying he’s “normal” somehow means that the big deal I’ve made out him being sick, different, NOT normal, etc. is just me being overdramatic.  As stupid as it sounds, I need the validation.  I need people to understand that, while I love Isaac with all the love a mother can have for her child, this is hard!  Them saying that he’s “normal” means that this isn’t hard and that I’m just a big fat whiner.  When every moment of my day—and many moments of my night—are occupied with this bizarre illness, this label that has turned our lives up-side-down, this wicked word that describes such a wonderful person, in an attempt to figure it out, to understand it, to help make it better, to find someone to teach me to make it better.  I need my loved ones, my family, to understand that— and to be there for me!

3.  Number three is the biggest one.  The problem with everyone calling him “normal” is that I start to believe it.  I know this about myself.  I know that I shouldn’t allow myself to believe it.  I brace myself against it, but I find myself slipping into that world of hope.  Maybe he really is doing better, I think to myself.  Maybe he’s starting to be normal.

Number three is so, so awful.  Because he ISN’T normal.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been through this.  I get slammed with the truth and I have to go through the whole grieving process again.  It’s a cycle I’m all too familiar with:  learning the truth, hurting over the truth, coming to terms with the truth and being okay with it, going into denial about the truth and then CRASH, I learn the truth again.

So, as I was saying, Isaac had an evaluation this week.  He had a comparable eval about nine months ago, so I was eager to hear about all the progress he’s made and find out where we go next.

Crash.

No one can deny that Isaac has made a lot of progress.  But now that he’s two, the criteria is that much harder.  Or, in other words, he’s made progress, but he should have made MORE progress.

He’s still in the first percentile in many areas of his mental development.  First percentile, people.  There is nothing LOWER than the first percentile.

The crash isn’t disappointment in HIM, and I need to make sure that he and my other children understand that.   As far as I’m concerned, Isaac is perfect.  (What’s so stinkin’ great about “normal” anyway!)  The crash is, instead, anger.  At myself.  For doing this AGAIN.  For putting myself in a position to crash AGAIN.  I can’t do this anymore!  My heart can’t take it, my spirit can’t take it.

And yet, what is life without hope?  Am I to stop hoping things will get easier for him?  Stop hoping that he’s making progress?  Am I supposed to give up on him?

So, that was his mental/developmental evaluation.  Tomorrow he has a physical evaluation— his first since we moved here to Colorado.  A week ago, I would have told you that I’m excited for this evaluation.  I think he’s finally growing!  Surely he’s on the growth chart by now!  Surely his “failure to thrive” is all over.  Surely!

But now, I’m closing my eyes and betting on the worst.  They are going to tell me that he’s further off the growth chart than ever before.  They’re going to tell me that he needs to be hospitalized for further testing.  They’re going to poke him with thousands of needles (again) and run every possible test on him (again) and then tell me that the tests are all inconclusive (again).  THAT’S what’s going to happen tomorrow!

And yet… I don’t REALLY believe that that’s what’s going to happen tomorrow.  That’s what I WISH I believed.  But, the truth is, I think he’s doing a lot better!  Which means that, once again, for the second time in a week, I’m setting myself up to crash.

As I dumped all of this on my dearest Charrette a couple of days ago, she replied, “I think it’s actually a rather optimistic trait…you search so hard to see the good and the progress in this little person you adore…and you cling to that against all odds. An emotional roller coaster, for sure, but it could be your very belief in him that could save him. He is so lucky to have you for a mother.”

Which, of course, made me bawl.  Could she be any more wonderful?

So I have to take a step back and look at the big picture.  Maybe, as a mom, peace of mind is just one more thing we’re called on to sacrifice.  If she’s right— if my belief in him, my hope for him, really could make his life even a tiny bit easier, then I’m willing.

I think.

Am I?

Oh, sure.  It’s easy to say that I would sacrifice anything for my child.  Money, time, energy, REST— all of that was sacrificed long ago.  But am I willing to crash, over and over again?  Am I willing to grieve over and over again?

It seems like a LOT to ask!  And yet… I’m doing it anyway, so it’s time to come to terms with it.

And so, brick by brick, I’m tearing down this fortress and allowing hope into my heart, when I’d previously tried (unsuccessfully) to barricade it.  Removing my worthless armor as I enter the warzone.  Hoping I won’t crash, but knowing that I might…

There are currently 113 votes on the poll in my sidebar (though the poll is open until Friday night).  I’m thrilled that so many people decided to join in and cast their votes!  I also got a LOT of private emails on this one, including many of you voicing your concern that you couldn’t vote on the poll because the statements were too extreme— you didn’t feel that ANY of them applied to you.

I’ve been fascinated as I’ve watched these results come in.  I find myself dying to ask a few more questions, based on the things this poll has taught me so far:

1.  More than half of you say that you have taken or currently do take anti-depressants, but only 11% of you say that you are abnormally unhappy.  Does that mean that around 80% of you who do take (or have taken) pills do NOT consider yourselves abnormally unhappy?

2.  53% of you say that happiness is a choice, except in extreme cases.  Wow.  That one surprised me.  That means that 47% of you don’t think that happiness is a choice.  What is it, then?  Something that just happens to you?  Something you fall into?  I think we’re going to be talking about this one in a future post, so let me know your thoughts.

3.  20% of you believe that depression is the new “normal”— why do you think so?  For those of you who didn’t say that, why not?  If half of the population (or at least half of my readership…) found anti-depressants to be necessary, then it sounds pretty “normal” to be depressed.  What do you think?

4.  What do you think is contributing to our unhappiness as a society?  Are we less happy than we used to be?  Are we less happy than people who are less “fortunate” than we are— as in, people in areas plagued with disease, war, poverty, etc?  If so, how is that possible?  What sense does that make?

5.  Were you surprised by the results of the poll?   Was there anything that jumped out at you that you weren’t expecting?

Okay, this is the end of the questioning part of this discussion.  I have a lot of things floating around in my brain that I want to write on this subject, but I wanted to ask these questions first.  I’m interested to hear your thoughts!

Photo taken of my 3-year old son by his 6-year old sister. This Wordless (Tuesday and) Wednesday, which is suddenly becoming very wordy, is my segue back into our happiness discussion which started with a poll (which you can now find in my sidebar). If you haven’t voted, please do! Tomorrow we’ll start discussing some of the results from my poll. There are currently over a hundred votes! Polls will close this Friday at midnight (as requested by BloggersAnnex, who graciously picked up the poll and posted it on their site too as their “poll of the week”).

Wow, what a day!  I learned last night that Mile High Mamas (the “mommy-blogger” section of The Denver Post) was going to be publishing a post of mine today.  It’s now up and running and I’d be honored if you’d go and take a peek… and leave a comment!!!  Ahhh, it’s great to be in Denver.  I feel like I’ve been officially initiated into the coolest club around!

Then, my dear friend Dr. Bolte (smart, sassy, hilarious) asked me to be a guest-blogger today.  So I wrote her my scandalous story about sneaking into Middle Eastern countries with an ILLEGAL passport.  (Yeah, she’s totally going to Guantanamo just for allowing such a post to be on her site…)  So, um, go check that out too!

And then, dearest Heather of the Extraordinary Ordinary is going to be our Soap Opera Sunday host for the month of September.  Thanks, Heather!  She’s introduced the monthly theme (a theme that EVERYONE should have a story about!) and put up the Mr. Linky there.  So, go looky-looky!  (Remember that you don’t necessarily have to write on the theme, the theme is just there to get your memory juices flowing!)  (Also, if you’ve already written a post on the theme, don’t hesitate to re-post it as a Soap Opera Sunday!  A lot of us probably haven’t read it before!  This is a way to get some new exposure to an old post!)

And finally, thanks so much for all the votes in yesterday’s poll.  The response has blown me away.  We’re up to about 65 votes on each poll at last count.  Keep voting.  Send your friends.  We’ll discuss the results during the coming week.  FASCINATING stuff!!!

Forget politics and religion.  The thing you really can’t talk about is “happiness” — or its flip-side, “depression.”  The masses will eat you alive.  Everyone has a strong opinion, a strong personal experience, and even perhaps an unfair judgment or two… or three.

So… let’s do some polls.  How I love vizu and their polls, because I can ask you questions that you might otherwise be afraid to answer.  But with a poll, you know that I have no way of knowing how you voted.  Therefore, you can answer honestly.  And then I think we can have a fascinating conversation, based on the data gathered in my poll, over the next few days.  So, ready… set… vote.

This first one is one of those fun ones where you can check multiple answers, so click on everything that applies to you!

Online Surveys & Market Research

And now, the final question:

I’ll leave these polls open until midnight on Friday. I’m interested to see where this discussion goes!

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