The other day, Offspring had a back baby tooth crack and crumble at the top, so the dentist had to positively YANK it out (it was not ready to come out at all so it was really stuck in his gum hard). But that brave boy sat there and just took it like a total man. I was so impressed!! I would have been demanding drugs and sobbing. He even staunchly refused ibuprofen afterwards.
Not a wimp, that one!
Friday, March 29, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
His WHO?
Wheeler had cataract surgery last week. At the registration, we both sat there as the admissions clerk (an older lady) ran through all the questions, which Wheeler duly answered. I got out his insurance cards of course, since he is paralyzed from the neck down (this factors in again in a moment, so don't forget this part). After all the questions were done, she printed the arm band, walked around her desk to us and said to Wheeler
"Which arm do you want it on?"
To which he politely, not flippantly, replied, something along the lines of
"It doesn't really matter".
Then, she looks STRAIGHT AT ME, full in the face, and says this. Brace yourself.
"Mom? Which arm?"
I totally frickin' shit you not.
Wheeler then indignantly and rather forcefully corrected her:
"That's my WIFE"
To which she replied:
"She's your wife??" in a very shocked tone.
Lots of layers to unpack here, am I right? Let's start with the obvious. Even if I had a child at a young age, that would make me at least in my mid 60s. Even on my worst day of my life, there is no possible way that ANYONE ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET would think I am in my 60s. Oh wait, except her.
Actually, though I don't even think she thought I was in my 60s. I don't think she even saw me as a person. She saw me in my "role" - my caregiver role. Who would be with a man totally paralyzed from the neck down? Well, only his mother of course, because of course people like that would never have a normal life and anyone other than his mother come to the hospital with him. Or oh my god, get (gasp!) married!! I mean, what would be the point of that for the girl eh?
I am just so angry about this that I could spit nails.
"Which arm do you want it on?"
To which he politely, not flippantly, replied, something along the lines of
"It doesn't really matter".
Then, she looks STRAIGHT AT ME, full in the face, and says this. Brace yourself.
"Mom? Which arm?"
I totally frickin' shit you not.
Wheeler then indignantly and rather forcefully corrected her:
"That's my WIFE"
To which she replied:
"She's your wife??" in a very shocked tone.
Lots of layers to unpack here, am I right? Let's start with the obvious. Even if I had a child at a young age, that would make me at least in my mid 60s. Even on my worst day of my life, there is no possible way that ANYONE ON THE FACE OF THE PLANET would think I am in my 60s. Oh wait, except her.
Actually, though I don't even think she thought I was in my 60s. I don't think she even saw me as a person. She saw me in my "role" - my caregiver role. Who would be with a man totally paralyzed from the neck down? Well, only his mother of course, because of course people like that would never have a normal life and anyone other than his mother come to the hospital with him. Or oh my god, get (gasp!) married!! I mean, what would be the point of that for the girl eh?
I am just so angry about this that I could spit nails.
Monday, March 11, 2013
Break a leg
It's been a long time since I auditioned for anything. Since high school in fact. Which I won't put how many years ago that was to protect the innocent. But last night I auditioned to be in this interesting show called Listen To Your Mother Show. From their website:
A national series of live readings by local writers in celebration of Mothers Day. Born of the creative work of mothers who publish online, each production is directed, produced and performed by local communities, for local communities.
We’re casting a show of about twelve readers whose pieces will fit together in some kind of flow. Some will be funny, some sad, some both. But we have no preconceived notions going into auditions, no slots to fill or boxes we’re looking to check. The best thing you can do is show us what Deb Rox calls “the incredible youness of you.”
Bring in something that you love, something that you feel strongly about, something that you want people to hear said. Bring in the story that only you can tell. Even if you’re talking about something about motherhood that’s totally universal (like sleep deprivation?), find a way to make it uniquely yours.
My piece was Rabbit Autopsy, written when Offspring was 6 years old*. It is certainly only a story I can tell, and indeed shows the incredible (me-ness) of (me). I have a free styling, non traditional form of parenting and this story is emblematic of that approach.
To get into the show, I first had to submit my piece in writing for selection to audition verbally. I made it past the first hurdle and was asked to audition verbally. The audition was last night. It was held in the home of one of the organizers, and I made sure that I got there very early - I was 45 minutes early because I was afraid I'd get lost on the way there and I certainly didn't want to miss my big chance to be the next Garrison Keiller.
I sat in the car, watching other auditioning women stream in and out of the house. I read my piece out loud about 4 times, after which I got rather sick of hearing myself talk. I had brought my Kindle, so I sat and read my Kindle, trying not to get nervous. At the appointed hour, I went into the house and awaited my turn in the laundry room turned green room. And let me tell you, this was the greatest laundry room in the history of laundry rooms. It was HUGE and doubled as a sewing room. I was green (in the green room, ha) with envy.
One of the woman came down to get me at exactly 8 pm, my audition time. We made a little small talk and then I read my piece. It was over before I knew it and then I left. I honestly don't think that I did very well - I think that I was nervous and that it showed. But I did my best and that's all I can do. So we'll see if I make it into the show. That would be uber cool but I'm not pinning my hopes on it. They said that at this point they are trying to make a show that flows together well, less judging what is good, so who knows if I'll make it in.
But I can bet you any amount of money that I'm the only mom that talked about an animal autopsy!
*he is now 12, I don't really know how that happened.
A national series of live readings by local writers in celebration of Mothers Day. Born of the creative work of mothers who publish online, each production is directed, produced and performed by local communities, for local communities.
We’re casting a show of about twelve readers whose pieces will fit together in some kind of flow. Some will be funny, some sad, some both. But we have no preconceived notions going into auditions, no slots to fill or boxes we’re looking to check. The best thing you can do is show us what Deb Rox calls “the incredible youness of you.”
Bring in something that you love, something that you feel strongly about, something that you want people to hear said. Bring in the story that only you can tell. Even if you’re talking about something about motherhood that’s totally universal (like sleep deprivation?), find a way to make it uniquely yours.
My piece was Rabbit Autopsy, written when Offspring was 6 years old*. It is certainly only a story I can tell, and indeed shows the incredible (me-ness) of (me). I have a free styling, non traditional form of parenting and this story is emblematic of that approach.
To get into the show, I first had to submit my piece in writing for selection to audition verbally. I made it past the first hurdle and was asked to audition verbally. The audition was last night. It was held in the home of one of the organizers, and I made sure that I got there very early - I was 45 minutes early because I was afraid I'd get lost on the way there and I certainly didn't want to miss my big chance to be the next Garrison Keiller.
I sat in the car, watching other auditioning women stream in and out of the house. I read my piece out loud about 4 times, after which I got rather sick of hearing myself talk. I had brought my Kindle, so I sat and read my Kindle, trying not to get nervous. At the appointed hour, I went into the house and awaited my turn in the laundry room turned green room. And let me tell you, this was the greatest laundry room in the history of laundry rooms. It was HUGE and doubled as a sewing room. I was green (in the green room, ha) with envy.
One of the woman came down to get me at exactly 8 pm, my audition time. We made a little small talk and then I read my piece. It was over before I knew it and then I left. I honestly don't think that I did very well - I think that I was nervous and that it showed. But I did my best and that's all I can do. So we'll see if I make it into the show. That would be uber cool but I'm not pinning my hopes on it. They said that at this point they are trying to make a show that flows together well, less judging what is good, so who knows if I'll make it in.
But I can bet you any amount of money that I'm the only mom that talked about an animal autopsy!
*he is now 12, I don't really know how that happened.
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