I’m an Extraordinary Machine

I read this post by Sweetney today: The best I can. She did articulated better than I ever could what’s been swirling in my head for months. Please read it.

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In the last year I’ve been so afraid I’m failing, hurting, scarring my kids in this shaking of my snow globe.

We’ve had oatmeal for dinner. We’ve eaten dinner at non-routine times, sometimes past regular dinnertime. We’ve eaten out more than in their entire lives. They’ve watched more TV. They’ve gone to bed late.

I’ve been snappier — okay, downright bitchy. I haven’t done enough fun things with them. Spent enough peaceful time with them. They’ve seen me cry and yell and sink to the floor.

But I’m trying so hard. I want to do my best. In spite of me, they’re doing well — because they are amazing. I want them to know I love them fiercely, without hesitation. That this trying is for them.

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Finding and Losing

I wandered around an old, falling-apart place that looked like a trailer from the outside but was a house inside. Surrounded by weeds. Hot, the afternoon holding its breath. Worrying, searching for Gretchen. I climbed decrepit stairs – no G. Came down, searched the living room. Ventured down into the dusty old basement, a single bare bulb…dim, on its last strand of filament. Cobwebs. More corners than one room should have. Trudged upstairs, head hanging low. I gasped in relief to see her sitting at the kitchen table, calmly drinking a soda. I got a soda from the fridge and walked down the hall toward my room, passing the guest room on the left —

— frozen

Melissa was sitting on the bed, writing, her things on the bed. She’d let herself into the house while no one was home.

Furious.

Angrily folding my clothes, wondering why Gretchen wasn’t upset.

Went to kitchen, around the corner where Linder was starting dinner. I hissed under my breath and signed at the same time. “why is SHE [Melissa’s name sign] here?!” Linder looked at me blankly and shrugged. “she let herself in! how dare she??” It was clear I was working myself into a state of solitary righteous indignation so I stomped out.

Melissa was now sitting at the table with G. I signed to Gretchen, “where you? search – not find. worry i!” Shrug. Intruder = Lin.

I packed, tasting loss and sorrow.

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I couldn’t get the proper ASL conversation quotes to work b/c the html editor overrode me despite extra spaces. I’m short on time. Apologies to any d/Deaf or HOH readers out there.

Back to Skool

Spring 2010

Visual/Gestural Communication [dropping] MW
Religion: Exploring the Christian Faith MWF
Native American Social Systems MWF
American Sign Language II TTh
Current Events Th

Four years ago in a lightning flash of Knowing I realized I wanted to be a Sign Language Interpreter. Until that moment I assumed I’d go into something English-related [later narrowed down to magazine editing of some flavor] given my grades, test scores, and Proofreading Twitch Factor. I was cool with that. I love words and language; my freshman year of high school I took the only foreign language, Spanish [taught by a gentleman from Mexico — huzzah for real learning] and did well. When I transferred to public school my sophomore year I took French, my first love. I continued taking French classes in college both in Oregon and Iowa. I even considered adding a French minor until I realized how many classes I’d have to take with the prof who didn’t like me. With Interpreting, though, it was different.

/tangent

I’ve also loved sign language as long as I can remember. No, really. This is not one of the Lin Exaggerations of Doom. I learned to fingerspell when I was 6 or 7, adored Marlee Matlin, read about Helen Keller, and checked out ASL dictionaries from the library. When I met a deaf girl – Lacey – I was incredibly disappointed that she couldn’t read yet thus couldn’t fingerspell. I remember this incredible urge to communicate and connect with her in some way. When I was 10 my Sabbath school class [think of it as Sunday school, only on Saturday…look, it’s a whole other thing, roll with it] signed “Amazing Grace” for special music [realizing now it was actually Signed Exact English, not ASL, but that is not the freaking point now is it?]. I read a Baby-Sitters Club book [shut UP] with a deaf character & learned the sign for “dance” and as a sophomore in high school wrote a ghastly, cheese-laden short story about a deaf girl struggling to fit in with her hearing family and mainstream school. Seriously, I lit the emo fires with that one.

/tangent, again

Out of curiosity and overthinking the future [one of my specialties] I looked into Interpreting programs around the US and got chills when I learned that Augie had just established their B.A. program. One hour away. That year. I felt alight, alive and I couldn’t get the words out fast enough every time I attacked someone else with my happiness. Four years later with my life upside down and losing my job two days before my son’s birthday I began to consider school. The original plan was to wait until my daughter was in kindergarten but it was your classic spork in the road, you know? On one side a murky pond and on the other a moody sea. So I held my breath and jumped. [sporks and water analogies…you know, I don’t know.]

Spring semester began February 4. Full time. I was afraid of looking like a complete misfit or, worse yet, the Misfit Who Tries So Hard to be Cool. I knew those @ UNI. So far so good…I think. I want to be seen first as Lin, as myself, not That Girl OMG Did You Hear?. I drive an hour each way to school every day. It’s not awesome and it’s expensive but it’s what I’ve got to do. I realize that to someone who doesn’t know the entire situation it would seem easiest to move but it isn’t. I’ve considered it so many times but I keep coming back to the reasons I have to stay, all of which are related to my bebes and their well-being. I hesitate to say this b/c I am afraid some will take it as a personal attack [it isn’t], but I don’t feel like I’m home when I get back in town. Walking into the house I let out a held breath and remind myself to let go of muscles I didn’t even know I was tensing.

It’s really hard not living in the same town, let alone near/on campus. It results in me feeling so lonely and isolated and removed that I want to curl up in a ball. Then I think about how no one would even notice if I curled up in a ball and didn’t move. No, these aren’t suicidal thoughts. They’re the thoughts of someone who has been forgettable and invisible most of my life.

Hell’s bells…I’m really not as grey and gloomy as I sound. School is good. It’s a positive to hang onto and I feel like I’m doing something, moving, trying. Worth something. I’ve made a couple at-school friends. Augie is the friendliest school I’ve experienced. People smile, say hi, hold doors. Faculty members say hello. The staff is helpful; they treat you like a person; they go above and beyond with individualized attention.

My birthday was February 25. I dreaded it for months, mentally counting down to what I knew would be the first of many Lonely Days in this new existence. That night though my friend Paula & I met for a reunion/birthday dinner — it was the first time we’d hung out in 2+ years. Said dinner lasted three, count them one-two-THREE hours. It was fabulous. Catch-up session #1 over, I dashed to the movie theater where I met a couple friends from ASL & a friend of theirs for my second birthday gift. The three of us saw Shutter Island and I sobbed, oh yes I did. I have no shame. In the cozy dark of a movie theater, that is. When the lights come up it’s a different story.

Less Than Stellar

I tweaked a couple things on here and, like rearranging a room, stepped back to get a feel for things. There are a few posts that are definitely me, but overall, it’s less than stellar. One factor is not knowing what and how much to write about. When so many local people have the potential to read my words, how much of me is too much? I realize a certain amount of restraint is a good idea. That’s why I use the filter feature on Livejournal, after all, where I’ve been blathering on since 2001. But the more I censor and filter the more I lose the Linnetude and the more bland this space becomes.

The Year According to Jakob

Jakob turned 8 on Nov 4. EIGHT. Because 7 8 9. I can’t believe I have a second-grader. Notes from spring to now-ish [precious few, I know]:

Oh, great, we start with a sad one…He called himself “stupid” and my heart broke. On the other hand he’s having trouble putting down a book and I love it.

Saturday, April 25
J – What does suspended mean?
L – That you got in so much trouble they won’t let you go to school. You have to stay home.
J – *jaw drops* Then you can’t even learn!
L – Exactly.

He knows the different kinds of clouds.

::

He already outgrew his shiny black bike. He experimented with his dad’s old skateboard. He played soccer, baseball, and hockey and took swim lessons. Before you get your panties in a twist they don’t overlap and I know my kid. kthx.

January 5
He’s responding awesomely to my personal growth and changes in how I approach things. Not even changes so much as doing a much better job at what I was trying to do before. His teacher has noticed too.

::

Despite the tumultuous year, he has been doing well. Considering. His evaluations are often the highest in the class and always well above the goal. He is still very social, having worked through a more withdrawn couple of months before Christmas. The move to Orange City was hardest on him and he has thrived since being back in Sioux Center.

He’s taller still. His 12 slim jeans won’t work in the fall. He likes to listen to music & stories on his mp3 player before he falls asleep. Sometimes he finds games on the radio instead. He loves to read and grasps new math concepts without blinking. His teacher loves his personality and well-developed sense of humor.

I’ve made – and continue to make – so many mistakes with him. He’s so special to me; he was not a mistake but a surprise. An unexpected, undeserved gift. He was part of me learning that I could be a mom; how to be a mom. That I love being his mom. What it is like to be filled to bursting with such love it surprises you.

Shake the Dust

by Anis Mojgani

This is for the fat girls.
This is for the little brothers.
This is for the school-yard wimps, this is for the childhood bullies who tormented them.
This is for the former prom queen, this is for the milk-crate ball players.
This is for the nighttime cereal eaters and for the retired, elderly Wal-Mart store front door greeters. Shake the dust.
This is for the benches and the people sitting upon them,
for the bus drivers driving a million broken hymns,
for the men who have to hold down three jobs simply to hold up their children,
for the nighttime schoolers and the midnight bike riders who are trying to fly. Shake the dust.
This is for the two-year-olds who cannot be understood because they speak half-English and half-god. Shake the dust.
For the girls with the brothers who are going crazy,
for those gym class wall flowers and the twelve-year-olds afraid of taking public showers,
for the kid who’s always late to class because he forgets the combination to his lockers,
for the girl who loves somebody else. Shake the dust.
This is for the hard men, the hard men who want to love but know that is won’t come.
For the ones who are forgotten, the ones the amendments do not stand up for.
For the ones who are told to speak only when you are spoken to and then are never spoken to. Speak every time you stand so you do not forget yourself.
Do not let a moment go by that doesn’t remind you that your heart beats 900 times a day and that there are enough gallons of blood to make you an ocean.
Do not settle for letting these waves settle and the dust to collect in your veins.
This is for the celibate pedophile who keeps on struggling,
for the poetry teachers and for the people who go on vacations alone.
For the sweat that drips off of Mick Jaggers’ singing lips and for the shaking skirt on Tina Turner’s shaking hips, for the heavens and for the hells through which Tina has lived.
This is for the tired and for the dreamers and for those families who’ll never be like the Cleavers with perfectly made dinners and sons like Wally and the Beaver.
This is for the biggots,
this is for the sexists,
this is for the killers.
This is for the big house, pen-sentenced cats becoming redeemers and for the springtime that always shows up after the winters.
This? This is for you.
Make sure that by the time fisherman returns you are gone.
Because just like the days, I burn both ends and every time I write, every time I open my eyes I am cutting out a part of myself to give to you.
So shake the dust and take me with you when you do for none of this has never been for me.
All that pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls for you.
So grab this world by its clothespins and shake it out again and again and jump on top and take it for a spin and when you hop off shake it again for this is yours.
Make my words worth it, make this not just another poem that I write, not just another poem like just another night that sits heavy above us all.
Walk into it, breathe it in, let is crash through the halls of your arms at the millions of years of millions of poets coursing like blood pumping and pushing making you live, shaking the dust.
So when the world knocks at your front door, clutch the knob and open on up, running forward into its widespread greeting arms with your hands before you, fingertips trembling though they may be.

dailykeira and randomjakob

I started posting the things Keira says every day and the things Jakob randomly comes up with; I didn’t mean to start with the New Year but hey, it works. Facebook and Twitter friends you’ve seen them, so I’ll throw them behind a cut. It’s a bit long, I know — my goal from here on is to post them weekly.

I know. This is totally a soccer mom thing to do. But my kids make me laugh my pants off…and soccer moms don’t dance to Incubus or listen to Melissa Auf der Maur. =D

Jan 1 – Currently: wearing hot pink sequined cape, an apron, and dress-up plastic heels. Last night: asked if God has snow pants.

Jan 2 – The week before Xmas I explained she has 2 g’mas & her great-g’ma died in ’05. K absorbed this. “Did she die in hot lava?”

Jan 3 – Jakob & Keira battled over a Matchbox car. J: “It’s mine!” K: “No, it’s PINK!! It’s mine!”

Jan 4 – I have reason to believe K cleaned the bathroom sink. With Dove liquid soap. With my toothbrush.

Jan 5 – I turned up the space heater. K: “oh good, it’s loud again!” That’s right baby. Next milestone is your first concert.

Jan 6 – J caught a few moments of my audiobook yesterday. Later overheard him singing…as David Sedaris as Billie Holiday. #randomjakob
– K asked to bring big stuffed Eeyore to sitter’s b/c “he likes snow.” I said sure & put him in the front seat. “Will you let him sit normally, like this?” She demonstrated. “I taught him how.” #dailykeira

Jan 7 – Walking downstairs w/ Grandpa J to spend the afternoon @ their house, unprompted: “It’s nice to see you today.”

Jan 8 – K had been reading to her doll when it fell from her lap. “That was my baby. I didn’t like her so I dropped it.”

Jan 9 – Took kids to Adam’s, who appeared w/ freshly shaven head. K exclaimed, “Daddy I didn’t want you to shave your head off!”

Jan 10 – Playing with her dolls and bears: “Would you like some tea?” “Certainly.”

Jan 11 – K dove for the phone. “I’ll handle it!” After a min I asked if it was for me. “Oh, it’s for me.” SIL had just asked for me.

Jan 12 – “Mom I had a loud slap fart! Did you hear it?” [she’s going to hate me for these one day. My work here is done.]

Jan 13 – Multitasking in a.m. I grabbed two heels to put away. J said gently, “…Mom, I don’t think that’s a matching pair of shoes.” #randomjakob
– “Why are we not supposed to eat dirty snow? Because I tried it and it tasted good.”  #dailykeira

a present for you

Crumpet the Elf [David Sedaris reads from Santaland Diaries]

transcript

there is a light in your eyes

I’ve finally gone through and gathered up the posts about the Stuff surrounding Keira’s birth from my LJ memories through the end of 2005. The pictures don’t work because the server they were on is no more. …and I’m spent.

Ultrasound Pictures & News – July 6, 2005

Okay. I don’t really know how to leap into relaying stuff like this, so we’ll start simple: there is good news and not-so-good news. And now I shall just spill it all as I remember it.

Measurements averaged out to put me at a due date of only two days before my previous one, so that’s cool. So, the deal is that in Baby’s brain there are ventricles, just like in your heart. The lateral & third ventricles are enlarged. Head circumference is 1.7cm; the “limit” for “normal” is 1cm at this stage. The different may not seem like a lot, but it means it is measuring at 23wks instead of the 21wks 4 days I currently am. On the other hand, the legs are measuring 21wks and abdomen 20wks, both within normal limits. The radiologist is fairly confident the enlargement is due to aqueductal stenosis, causing hydrocephalus. I’m being referred to a perinatologist in Sioux Falls. The appointment is early tomorrow (Wednesday) morning.

FIL said we are probably looking at 1) Baby getting a shunt and 2) the possibility of the head getting big enough that they will want to do a C-section. I can’t dwell on that right now.

The ultrasound experience itself was very cool. I don’t want to forget that. We saw the aorta, which got the tech really excited b/c she said she doesn’t get to see it that clearly very often. Baby wouldn’t give us many face-on shots, but we caught a quick glimpse and I saw Baby’s wee nose. We also got a front view of a leg and both bones were amazingly clear. While the radiologist was looking at things, Adam was able to see a profile shot and the Baby turning its head.

ETA: Sorry, I totally forgot to write about trying to discover the sex. The tech was finally able to catch Baby in a pretty good position, just not crystal-clear. She said since I am this far along a penis should have been really obvious/visible, but it wasn’t — only it wasn’t clear enough for her to see labia. Take from that what you will. She thinks it’s a girl.

aujourd’hui Keira a quatre ans

Keira is four years old today. [Pretend it’s still before midnight on the 21st.] It’s become a tradition to link to the announcement my friend Tanya made & my post about the experience.  They’re locked posts on eljay, so I will do a little c/p action.  Oooh.  Because I’m ridiculously behind, I’m also going to throw in my journal notes from spring to now.

SHE’S HERE!

Oct. 21st, 2005 at 6:39 PM

Hey… This is Tanya (aka LadderMonkey)

Lin just called me… *beams* I’m SPECIAL!!!

Keira Alexandra was born at 12:57 a.m. Oct. 21, 2005.

6 lbs 7.7 oz

19 1/2 inches long

She and mom are doing GREAT! Lin just sounds soooo GOOD!

Keira had a CT scan today neurologist is 50/50 on what he thinks is going on. Her head size is normal and so they’re just going to do a “wait and see” kind of thing. They take her back in next week for a follow up visit.

Jakob has not met baby sister yet… but will today!

Lin says that daddy is in love… baby has got him wrapped around her little finger and she doesn’t even know it yet.
So, leave her LOTS of CONGRATS!!!!

WELCOME BABY KEIRA!!!

Keira’s birth.

Nov. 17th, 2005 at 2:47 AM

Thursday 10.20 – Friday 10.21

[No notes from today. Come on memory, don’t fail me now.]

I had more contractions through the night. I was able to sleep through them and they were irregular so I knew it wasn’t labor, but I went in to the clinic to see if they’d caused me to dilate more. I was at 5cm; I went to talk to FIL and he said if I started having regular contractions he personally wouldn’t put me on the road. He called Perinatologist to see if she wanted me to head up tomorrow morning to have my water broken or what; she said that she’d actually like us to head up immediately.

I went through my mental inventory of what had been done and what needed to be done, called Adam, and set to work. Susan was up, so she french braided my hair. It ended up being three hours before we actually hit the road. I was having irregular contractions through that time. The ILs got the call that their new van came in, so we took what is now our van. Once on the road, partly out of curiosity and partly to stave off boredom, I started timing the contractions. Hello, they were 4-6mins apart and stayed there for the duration of the hour-long trip. Between writing down times, I made sure I had plenty of lip gloss, filed my nails, and finished reading Magic for Marigold.

stuck

There’s so much going on right now it’s hard for me to sift through what to write about and what not to write about.  I sit down and think “just write” because that’s what you’re supposed to do, like sitting under a tree if you get lost in a forest, but what if the tree falls and you scream? which will be louder, you or the tree? will anyone hear either of you?

So I don’t know what to say.  Don’t know what to write about.  I also don’t have much time to write, as I’ve been working full-time since August 3rd and in a shakedown of events will be moving to a nearby town this weekend.  School/work/daycare will remain the same…we’re talking less than ten miles.

I need to figure out what to write before I fly into a thousand pieces.

I Should Have Known Better

Do not, I repeat, do NOT try a new hair product the morning of a Meeting.

It is a Bad Idea and you may wind up with Bad Results.  Lo, the battle to finish may lead to Lateness and Lateness in addition to Bad Results, my friends, is a Recipe for Disaster.  Take a moment to reflect upon the fact that “mood” is merely “DOOM” spelled backwards.

Suddenly you’ll find yourself painfully aware that you are sitting across the desk from one of the big dogs and you are the girl with Clean Hair That Looks Greasy Because You Made a Bad Decision.  But at least it’s styled…right?

trickledown

Keira was pretending to be a mom.  I was the kid.

She crawled under the covers.  “I’m sleeping.  I have a headache.”

Epic Headness, part 2

Where did we leave this? last Friday? Okay.  Pain was in full force that night.  Saturday: Urgent care clinic.  Nothing but a bill, “ride it out” and a really bad mood.  Excuse me, I’ve “ridden out” Paxil withdrawal and childbirth.  You are on my List.  kthx.

Monday: in agony by now.  Called Dr. Andersen (my PCP).  She said come back in for a spinal tap & another round of IV cocktails.  I put on my Little Black Jammas and to the hospital we went.  The best anesthesiologist was waiting (seriously — one of my best friends called him on his cell @ 1am for her epidural) and watched in mild irritation as a lab tech cherry-picked a vein, leaving two nurses wrestling with my already-bruises armed.  I’d had 2 IVs, 1 IV-attempt, & another lab poke so it’s not like they were faced with a bevy of candidates.  I suggested finding a “pro” i.e. junkie (hit my laugh quota) then the anesthesiologist took over and found one.  Huzzah.  Then he did the spinal tap.  Trust me, this time the movie’s better.  If you had a good anestheperson it will be less horrible, though.  They had to take something like 12cc, which is only 12mL, but in terms of bodily fluids it’s rather enough.  They started the magic cocktail as soon as the IV was in, so not long after the procedure was done I, too, was done, at least in terms of consciousness.

Apparently while I was out Dr. Andersen & Adam discussed the possibility of my having a form of bipolar disorder, which a) is actually one of a few things I have not self-diagnosed [let’s talk about that wretched book that made me sure I had leukemia when I was like 13] and b) bothers me now that I think about it.  In the strictest sense, did she violate my patient confidentially? On the one hand, it’s a small town, his dad’s Dr. FIL, he’s my husand, my POA, we came in together.  On the other hand, he is a separate individual, it’s an issue she hasn’t even discussed yet with me, and I’m lying right there semiconscious.  I dunno.

Neuro appt in S-Town tomorrow.  Dr. Neuro is already on the Made of Awesome List because he returned calls to Dr. A on his day off and made room for me in his schedule to be seen then rather than six weeks from now.

So anyway…I made it though my last hospital stay without screaming by evening but anxiety gets hard to ignore when your heart is trying to keep up with the blips on the vitals machine.  Knowing I was missing Jakob’s third baseball game didn’t help.  That night Adam brought movies, cuddling, and caught me when I got up to pee at 1am and decided to black out instead.  I bucked a couple times in his arms to make it more exciting and give the nurses a thrill.  That was it until the post-breakfast discharge.  I spent the rest of the day relaxing as ordered; a bubblytastic bath, a long hot shower, some reading, some intarweb connecting, some phone calls, some writing.

A night ending with My Name is Earl and a relaxed feeling with a pain-free day is NOT a bad thing.  woot!

I’ll try to get some pics of my awesome bruises tomorrow.  Yeahhhhh.

This is going to be Epic.

Gretchen: You need to email me and tell me what the hell is going on!!!

Lin: Dear Gretchen,

My body hates me.

Sincerely,
Lin

Gretchen: I’m going to smack you. Let’s try this again with a little more detail. *shines bare bulb of interrogation room right in your face*

Last Wed-Fri Adam & I had strep.  Fri night I started feeling crappy before bed.  Stomach a little weird, pre-migraine-y.  Woke up to full-blown pain and vomiting Saturday morning.  It responded to exactly nothing.  Double doses of Imitrex, five (not at once) Tylenol-3, repeated rounds of Advil…nada.  Between then and now gets a little fuzzy as to what the hell happened when and I swear the monkeys managed to steal a day or two in there.

crash

This is old but, y’know, kind of a Big Deal.

February 1, 2008

I had a sales meeting in S-Town today [about an hour drive].  Keira stayed at a friend’s house.  I was getting sleepy so decided to pull into a gas station parking lot and nap for a few minutes.  I pulled in and was deciding where to park when something made me look up and to my right —

— a semi was coming.

I had a brief moment of realization – “this is going to happen” – and then impact.

I rolled twice.  I wondered briefly why I hadn’t landed yet…watched the windshield crumple into a million pieces.  Glass flew everywhere – the van gave up its shape – all slow motion.  Seconds rippled indecisively then rushed forward as I sat, stunned, as a woman ran up to me.

She opened the door, commanded me to unbuckle so she could help me out.  Gas was pouring onto the ground.  I stared numbly at her, fumbling with my seatbelt.  I had to find my phone.  It was on the ground a few feet away.  She found my bag and even went back to move a shoe from the ground to the van.  I found them for Gretchen today.  Leopard-print skimmers.  I stared at my makeup scattered on the pavement then realized a small crowd had gathered and was urging me to get away from the van; a man with a white truck eased me onto the front seat and I sat there shivering, answering questions.

There was an EMT whose blue eyes I clung to and an almost-EMT who warmed my hands.  Another told me about the time she was in an accident after I started leaking tears because we can’t afford another van or an ambulance ride.  I remember names.  Cat, Heather, Kim, Lisa, Tony

Despite being my high-strung self I was very, very calm.  I admit I’m a little proud that I gave them all pertinent information and didn’t turn into a blubbering mess.  And, being me, I made a few Linnariffic comments and made them laugh.  Which felt good.

I’m home.  I’m fine.  Glass cuts all over my body; left palm/wrist a bit shredded; right hip bearing a nice contusion.  Who knows what delights will surface tomorrow.

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25ish Things, Lin-Style

I way over-analyzed this list b/c I find it nearly impossible to describe myself. I’m pretty vanilla, you guys.
Shamelessly ganked from Facebook.

1. In seventh grade I was 4’10 1/2″ tall. Now I’m 5’10ish”.
2. I can’t decide if I’m freaked about my birthday.
3. Office supplies make me happy. Mmm, pens.
4. I research things to death. I have to learn about it before I can do or decide something
5. I have no tattoos but five or six ideas. I almost got one in Oregon this summer but got my nostril pierced
   instead.
6. When Keira starts kindergarten I will go back to school for my BA in Sign Language Interpreting.
7. I’ve seriously considered changing my name [like, a few months ago — not just when I was 12 :D].
8. I loved the Photography class I took in high school. I’d like to take another.
9. I cemented my treehugger rep by using cloth diapers, a pouch sling, a Moby wrap, & a mei tai [not the drink]
   w/ my daughter.
10. I still think about and miss lost friends and people who have likely forgotten me.
11. I love potatoes. No…I don’t think you understand. I love potatoes.
12. In college I bought a stick shift, then learned how to drive it.
13. Bird things make me happy.
14. February 1 marked the one-year anniversary of Lin vs. Semi.
15. Dr. Perry Cox makes me swoon and Jordan is my twin.
16. I started teaching my kidlets ASL when Keira was 3 months old and Jakob was 4 years old.
17. I wish I had some amazing, standout talent [other than reading Adam’s mind and playing Family Interpreter].
18. It’s really difficult for me to initiate contact w/ people.
19. I suck at making decisions.
20. Linnet = one of my nicknames. Linnet also = a bird. I like that.
21. Trees also make me happy.
22. As does lemony goodness.
23. February 6 – was Day One, Week One of my Couch-to-5K.
24. I usually assume the worst.
25. My family was vegetarian until I was 14. As a result I’m completely squicked by raw meat and picky about any “off” bits as I eat.

Found a Flower at My Feet

Way back in February it was 12 degrees; there was no school and the kids were so antsy I finally gave in to their pleading and bundled them up to play outside. Ten minutes later Jakob burst inside. “Keira fell and she won’t stop crying!” I looked outside — she was lying on her stomach by the playset, half-screaming, half-crying. I leapt down the back steps and realized as I landed that I was barefoot. My left foot still has purple scars from the cuts I received as I ran over the snow and ice. I’ve never seen Keira fall and just lie there…. I scooped up her limp body and ran back to the house. I said to Keira over and over, “it’s okay baby. Mama’s got you. It’s okay.” Halfway there the pain set in.

It hadn’t registered yet that she didn’t reach for me and hold on monkey-style. The phone rang and because I’m neurotic, I grabbed it as I sat with Keira on the couch. It was Julie. I must have sounded a little panicky as I explained what was going on; she said she’d call back in a few minutes. Keira hadn’t calmed at all but the crying was strange. I can’t think how to describe it. She wasn’t really focusing on anything and as I removed her hat and coat she pushed me away. “I don’t want you! I want my mommy!” “Baby, it’s me. I am your mommy.” “Noooo you’re not my mama, I want my big mama!” The words themselves, the text, look funny. It was terrifying.

I called the clinic and as I held for the triage nurse Keira said her belly hurt. Concussion, I thought. Sure enough they wanted me to bring her in. I bundled her back up and ordered Jakob to Get Some Shoes On because we were Leaving Right Now. That boy needs to learn to heed the lightning in my eyes when I’m Very Serious. The nurse took her vitals and once she heard about Keira not recognizing me it was a foregone conclusion that they a CT scan. She walked trotted us over to the ER, explaining on the way that we could get one right away there versus waiting for approval. Handily, the clinic and the hospital are connected so we went from one world to another without stepping outside.

Keira asked for Adam while we were answering questions in the ER. Shortly after he arrived she vomited for the first time in more than two years which (understandably) freaked her out. At various points she fell into a light sleep as I sang to her and gave rubbies.

The CT scan didn’t go well. Being in pain and completely exhausted meant she was beyond comfort or cooperation. The tech held her head (yes. she screamed.) but they still had to do a second take.

We plodded to a 3×9 cave masquerading as the ER waiting room (clearly identified as NOT the urgent care waiting room). Jakob got to watch some Spongebob while I paced the cave and called my MIL and SIL. In the interest of full disclosure this was actually the shortest ER wait time I’ve ever experienced, so there’s that. After we had all been properly subdued in the Cave of Doom the doctor informed us the scan showed no trauma and they were calling it a concussion with no need for follow-up unless These Terrifying Symptoms occurred. They did not. She vomited twice more at home and was of course completely wiped by the experience, but was fine. Is fine.

For the first 3 weeks post-concussion she was extremely clingy. This made starting at her new sitter a little more difficult, but the sitter is very laid back and non-threatening so it went pretty well, considering. She is now very comfortable there and I see the personality that had disappeared at her old daycare.

My bebegirl is okay.