The Theft of Memory

 

The Theft of Memory immediately draws you in. Jonathan Kozol writes of losing both of his parents over a period of many years. His father is a specialist in brain disorders with an impressive career, and he is an award winning writer and teacher.

The Theft of Memory meanders through the stories of both men's lives, mirroring the tricky way the brain tends to remember things. The book does not follow a chronological order, but instead touches on different events as they are remembered. He examines different aspects of his father's life as it relates to him, his mother, and his father's care givers at the end of his father's life. He does a wonderful job of showing the joy is father still experiences in life even as the memory of who he was is fading.

Jonathan addresses the difficulty in finding excellent medial care, and how hard it is to make the decisions facing many people caring for aging parents. Should a parent go into an assisted living facility? Is now the time to sign a DNR (do not resuscitate)? Can a parent be cared for at home?  What happens when the money runs out?

This is a story about the complicated relationship between parents and children, and how no matter how long and full a life is, the difficulty in letting go. I would recommend this book to anyone with aging parents.

The Measure of a Mountain

I just finished reading The Measure of a Mountain: Beauty and Terror on Mount Ranier by Bruce Barcott.

It was recommended by the library for my interest in something else. I was really drawn into it. The book was super packed with tons of information about bugs that can only live at freezing temperatures and mountain climbing accidents, and plane crashes, and feelings.

I read all the time, and I can honestly say this is the first book I have really wanted to recommend to everyone that I've come across in a long while. It reminded me of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard, except with mountain climbing, so better (Sorry Annie, you're thread worm was pretty cool, but it's no match for altitude sickness at the top of Everest).

So you should read it. For the funs. Don't buy it, though. Get it from the library for free:)

Wow, this day

Late last night I got a text from a friend, letting me know that she was heading to the Children's Museum with her kid this morning and wondering if I wanted to join her. We were going to head to the library, but I thought for once it would be nice to be one of those moms that actually meets other moms and enjoys herself...you know, visiting with other moms. 

I don't know why I thought that would work. First, my children are overtired. Super overtired. Their grandparents were headed out of town for the week, so that meant they wanted to spend every spare moment with the kids before they left. Good in theory, as I got some time to work around the house. Bad for bedtime routines and basically any sort of routines, which wreaks havoc on my kids' sleep schedule.I am "blessed" with children that wake up at 5:30 am no matter what time they go to sleep. They also seem to sleep worse the less sleep they get, so, they were up about 15 times in the night for various reasons, and still awake at 5:30 am. 

I considered aborting the museum mission at 4:30 am while I was nursing the youngest and Stinko was yelling for oatmeal from the kitchen. Ever optimistic, I arose with a smile, and after 2 cups of coffee was feeling like I could pull it off. 

It took 2 hours to get my 4 year old to put on her shoes.

I had to change the 2 year old's shirt twice because he kept going outside and playing with the hose.

The baby was good, but by the time we finally got all loaded up, he screamed the whole way because he was hungry again.

While at the museum, my kids flat out refused to play with my friend's kids, and instead insisted on playing with all of the things we already have at home. They played with Play dough for 45 minutes! They made things out of pipe cleaners. Stinko clocked Chompy upside the head with a golf ball. 

We spent an hour in the bathroom washing our hands. I exchanged maybe 3 words with my friend aver the sound of my infant screaming his head off.

I suddenly realized that I needed to get them out of there as soon as possible to avoid any injuries, Chompy laid down on the ground and kicked and screamed. She threw such an epic fit that another mom THAT I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW handed her baby off to her husband and offered to help me get my kids to the car. I truly appreciated it, and should have taken her up on it, but I was too embarrassed.

We made it home and had a quick lunch, and I believed, mistakenly, that they would take naps easily because they are so very very tired. While I was nursing Doomibear, Stinko managed to find a bottle of blue nail  polish. He painted himself, he painted the carpet. He climbed into my bed to "snuggle" and painted the king sized sheet with the nail polish on his leg. Now Chompy has been yelling at me for 10 minute to open her door. It's shut because she just got in trouble for trying to take every blanket out of the linen closet and put it on her bed. It's 110 degrees here. She doesn't need any more blankets. 

It's only 2 pm. I'm going to go on a road trip to Ohio with these kids in a week??? I'm exhausted already.

So's Doomi:

So...I haven't blogged in a while.
Why not, you ask? I got discouraged, I got busy, I picked up more hours at the hospital lab.

I had a baby!
That last one was the hardest one. Lots of people are really good at being pregnant. I am actually really bad at being pregnant. Good at rock climbing, check. Good at running super long distances, check. Good with animals, check. pregnancy is my kryptonite

Lot's of people glow. They spend their time exercising vigorously: going on hikes, jogging, dead lifting. I'm pretty sure the only exercise I did was run to the bathroom in time to throw up. I basically spent my time sleeping for 12 hours a day and puking for the other 12. I sucked at pregnancy the first time, and I sucked at it the third time, too. In fact, if it's possible, I think I get worse at pregnancy every time.

And if that wasn't enough, I can't even manage to push the baby out at the end. My first baby: 24 hours of labor, no progress, c-section. Second baby: 36 hours of labor, head stuck in the birth canal, c-section. Third baby: I didn't even try. C-section.

Luckily I get a cute little magic fat baby at the end. Another little werebear-doomicorn hybrid
AKA a doomibear to eat all my food and make me poor.

But I'm back at it! I got to exercise my smarts so I don't lose my mind!
Also, Phoenix is still rad. It's hot, and rad. HOTRAD.

We're also going on a road trip with toddler, which I am going to intensely blog about. In order to save my sanity.