Still flare free.... bummer?

Today was my bi-annual neurologist appointment.  After answering my usual page worth of questions that I have thought of in between visits, my doctor proceeds with the normal exam....

Follow my finger, look at my nose - can you see my fingers moving (as he moves them almost out of my peripheral vision), squeeze my fingers, pull my arms, and my least favorite, touch my finger - your nose - then my finger again.

I hate that one because if I've had caffeine that day, my finger shakes and he will say with glee, "uh oh, you have a tremor - we need to watch that."  No doc, I just have a Diet Coke addiction.... I purposefully didn't have a soda at lunch and breezed through the routine with no tremor.  I notice him frowning.  I then have to do the drunk walk - walk a straight line, heel to toe.  "Your balance is perfect," he begrudgingly remarks and then he pulls out the reflex hammer and I know what's coming.  Before I was diagnosed, KC used to hit my knee and laugh hysterically because it would go flying.  We couldn't go anywhere in the car without him doing it to me so when the doctor taps my knees, I notice KC watching longingly.  My legs kick out wildly, as usual.  "That's the MS," he says cheerfully.  Yeah, I know; I guilted KC into not tapping my knees five appointments ago, when you first told me.  Poor Kase, those days are gone, buddy.

We discuss when my next MRI should be and he sadly remarks that I've been flare-free for almost three years and don't need another one for at least two more years, "unless you have another flare sooner," he says hopefully.  But then he sighs and adds, "Other than your reflexes, you are completely without symptoms."  Why the disappointment, doc?  I want to tell him that sometimes there are days that I actually even forget I have MS but instead I feel obliged to say, "I know, I feel great but I worry there is a flare coming around the corner."  He perks up.  "You're probably right," he replies.  But then, he adds the obligatory, "but things look really good, so you could go for a long time without having one."  I swear I heard him say under his breath, "but it's doubtful."  Let's just order the wheelchair now.

After the appointment, KC and I debrief.  Strangely, he didn't see the appointment transpire that way.  "Great news, huh?  Let's go celebrate." So glad he surprised me by showing up at the appointment or I'd have come home and crawled into bed.  The appointment really did go well, but I won't be satisfied until he tells me I'm cured or at least, don't ever have to worry about another flare.  I think KC knows that and that's why he showed up.  So instead of crawling into bed, I went to the Cheesecake Factory with my family.  I liked that so much better.  Besides, my birthday is in two days so there will be plenty of time for crawling into bed with the covers over my head in full-on pity party mode.

An oldie but...

This is an oldie (not that old, btw) but it still applies.

In exactly one month I turn 40.
Forty.
Four-tee.

A friend from high school had a book published and a reviewer described him as being middle-aged. Middle-what??? That was my first 'blow to the stomach' moment with this looming birthday.

I'm very conflicted with this. I look at my peers who are 40 and frankly, think they look great. Not what I envisioned 40 to look like when I was 20. But then I realize that if I were to ask some 20 year olds today about those peers, they'd say something different. It truly is all about perspective. I think I look okay; not Jennifer Aniston 40 but not Bea Arthur (when she was 40) either. But it's much more than about how I look because if I put some more effort (and possibly money) into it, I can change that. It's about the sand in the hour glass.

I have to accept that there are things that I said I was going to do that I did not do; some of them I really planned on doing and some of them I only daydreamed of doing. The fact that I no longer have the option is what I'm mourning. Some things I probably lost the option with a long time ago (like that Olympic medal) but this big birthday makes me face it. I think the problem is when you're little, you dream of what you're going to do when you grow up; heck, people ask you about it, on a weekly basis, so you think about it, a lot. But while you're in your twenties, nobody ever says, "what do you want to be when you become middle aged?" so you don't think about it. And then, it's here. And I'm not ready.

I think I need some serious beach time to contemplate this next chapter.

Ugh. "Middle-aged"?

Old?! I am not!

I watched the movie, 17 Again, about a 40-something man who magically gets transformed back to the age of 17.  There's a scene where the younger version of the character (Zac Effron) looks at his body in amazement and exclaims how great he feels.  I had never consciously noticed not feeling good anymore, but when I started thinking about it, that's probably a fair assessment.  When did that happen?  Then the next day, I went to yoga and there were poses I used to do in high school every day before practice without a second thought but when I attempted the pose two days ago, my body said, "uh, old lady, you haven't done this in 20 years, are you kidding me?"  How fitting that I have a birthday coming up. I'm kind of past being depressed about the actual number changing, I'm really more sad about the time I have left running out.  I read somewhere about the possibility of humans living (healthily) to 140.  One hundred more years!  I would have no excuses not to do everything I want to do!  I think I could still do most things I want now but I find myself dismissing doing them on account of  "I'm too old."  I'm too old to start a business, I'm too old to make a career change, I'm too old to learn a new language, I'm too old to have a baby, and the list goes on.  Then I ask myself, "When did I become old?" because, truthfully, I don't think of myself as old.  Maybe I'm not really too old, but damn, I am too tired.  Since the big day is fast approaching, I can say with certainty that this isn't the last entry about the subject.

Ditch Digger with Traveling Pants?

The grading quarter ended Friday so all my children have been in a mad dash to tie up loose ends in their schoolwork to try to raise any grades they can.  Middle Kid, oh Middle Kid... he decided he would start reading his book last weekend for his book report due the following Wednesday, buuuuttttt, he hadn't gotten a book from the library yet - he thought that would buy him another day of freedom from having to start it.  I looked at his list of approved books and realized I owned several of the titles, including  Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, a favorite of mine (the second and third books of the series, not so much).
"Here."  I handed MK the Sisterhood book.
"Mom.  Really?  No."
"It's an easy read.  You don't have time anymore.  Sorry."
"You have Treasure Island, I'd rather read that."
"You read the first chapter of Treasure Island, then come talk to me about it and we'll see."
He read the first chapter and, while he said he liked it, realized it wasn't going to be read in a week's time.  Traveling Pants it is.

When will I learn?  He didn't freakin' read the book.  He went to Spark's Notes and got the gist of the book and then proceeded to b.s. his way through his report.  He didn't even have the sense to watch the darn movie.  Middle Kid, Ditch Digger, Extraordinaire.  Or maybe not.  Maybe he learned more from his ability to bullshit than he would have ever learned from the book.  Middle Kid, politician.  Ugh, no.  I think I'd rather have him dig ditches.  Let's try this again, Middle Kid, Salesman of the Year.  Mmmmm, can't really see it.  Middle Kid, Typical Teenager So Quit With the Worrying, Mom.  Yeah, that sounds right.

Let the ass chewings begin!

Last night, middle child had a drumline competition in Phoenix where their performance time was TEN THIRTY p.m. (yeah, I said the same thing you just said) so he wasn't expected back at the school until 1:30 a.m.-ish.  Middle Kid (MK) has been struggling with his grade in physics class, as in, he's been struggling with deciding he should do the work to earn the grade, so we've been helping him in the motivation department.  Part of that includes taking possession of his cell phone.  Since he wasn't going to be back in town until early in the morning, KC gave him his phone back for the day, along with $20 for food.
Having children is not cheap and we're like many families in America today- our income has decreased rather than increased in recent years but our expenses have done just the opposite.  Because of this, we've done some trimming where we would feel the least amount of pain - dropped the satellite package to fewer channels, sold the convertible that only seated two, became coupon clippers and weekly circular scourers, and dropped the bells and whistles on the home phone package so it is just for local or emergency calls since we have free long distance on our cell phones.  We've been very upfront with the kids about our financial situation and have explained the changes we've made along the way, including NO LONG DISTANCE on the home phone, unless it's an emergency.  Well, MK's girlfriend originally lived in Indiana and her dad still lives there and provides her with her cell phone so it's an Indiana number.  You know where I'm going with this, right?  Since we took away MK's cell phone, and he's a 15 year old boy with raging hormones, he's going to talk to his honey one way or another.  When I got home from work yesterday, I opened the home phone bill to discover it was double what it should be due to long distance charges.  Middle Kid was in Phoenix so the ass chewing would have to wait until, truth be told, probably the morning because 1:30 a.m. was gonna be tough for me to even be awake, let alone fired up and awake.  And, as long as we're being honest, KC was probably going to be the only one awake when MK sent a text asking to be picked up. 
About 10:30 p.m., the SWAT pager went off, again.  KC had just gotten back from a call out at 7 p.m. and had been kvetching at our late dinner about how much he'd been working lately.  This time he looked at the pager, got up and went in the other room with his radio, but instead of starting to get dressed when he came back in the room, he got back into bed.
 "What are you doing?  Aren't you going?" I ask.
"No." he replied as he hit his pillow and laid back down.
"Why aren't you going?"
"Because you won't pick our boy up at 1:30, you'll let him walk home."
For the sake of disclosure, we live two blocks away from the school - in a neighborhood one would definitely classify as 'safe' and in a climate one would call mild or temperate this time of year - so he could walk home just fine, but I would not make him walk when he called for a ride. Although it would probably cross my mind when I'm snuggled in my bed asleep at 1:30 in the morning.  Still, I feign offense.
"I would not!  Rude."
Just then, the pager goes off again.  KC looks at it, says a few cuss words and gets up.
"Full call-out?"  I ask.
He pulls his pants on, laces up his boots, leans over, kisses my forehead and says, "don't forget Middle Kid," then walks out.
I turn the volume on my phone up as high as it will go so I'll be sure to hear the 'ding' when I get a text and place the phone on my nightstand, right next to my side of the bed.  The next thing I know, Lilly is doing her 'wooh wooh' bark that she does when she's glad to see someone she loves.  I look at the clock, it's 2 a.m.  Discombobulated, I look at my phone.  No text from MK; did he get a ride from a friend?  I get up and go out to the kitchen where there is no middle child but KC is home, stripping off all his gear. It usually takes him a little while to wind down when he gets home from work so I say to him,
"Oh good, you're home.  You can pick up MK."
"He's not home yet?!"
"Haven't heard from him," I say as I head back to bed.
At four o'clock in the morning, KC finally comes back to bed.
"Uh, dumbass, next time you tell someone his kid isn't home yet, you might want to check the kid's bed to be sure of that information.  I've been texting him since I got home and when he still hadn't responded after two hours, I started going through the questions in my head that we ask parents when we go to take a missing child report.  I went into his room and whaddya know, there he was, sound asleep."
"Oh honey, I'm so sorry," I mumble as I roll over and doze back off.
Looks like Middle Kid isn't the only one getting his ass chewed in the morning.

There's an app for that

How did we ever survive before technology? I find myself wishing I could rewind conversations I'm having if I didn't hear or didn't understand what was said. I hate watching TV in hotel rooms - there's no DVR to pause or rewind when my husband is talking to me. I pay bills when I'm lying in bed and I experience a sense of panic if I'm out and forget my phone. It wasn't always this way. When my daughter was making her case to get a cell phone one of her reasons was "what if a stranger tries to abduct me?" After "run fast" wasn't a good enough answer for her, I replied that her dad and I made it through childhood just fine without one. She reminded me that we also taped songs from the radio on cassette players and that times have changed. She now has a cell phone.
The young people I know are convinced that the Mayan calendar cycle ending in 2012 doesn't mean the end of mankind but rather the end of technology, which may as well be Armageddon for this generation. They don't have the experiences of what life is like without technology or even what it's like to answer the phone without knowing who is calling. While they are so fortunate to have access to unlimited information, 500 television channels, and the ability to communicate with anyone, anytime, day or night, without mom or dad knowing - remember getting in trouble if your friend called after 9 p.m.? - it's also kind of sad. There's something to be said for being unplugged; reading a book with paper pages, having to cruise town to find out where your friends are, or going out with friends - in person - and having actual face-to-face conversations. If schools were to ask students to solve problems without using any technology, I don't think many would be up to the task because any problem we can think of today 'there's an app for that' to solve it, so honestly, why would they be? But what happens to the kids (like mine) who don't have smart phones yet?
I found one of those cassette tapes from days gone by. For laughs, we played it but I couldn't think of the name of the song being played. With a tap on my phone, we learned the name and artist in 15 seconds because there's an app for that. I sense smart phones in my children's futures. But I think I'll wait until after December 2012, just in case.

Listen, jerk...

Have you ever dealt with people who would say the sky was green if it meant they could disagree with you? I have recently and I walked away irritated and in a bad mood for the rest of the day. Why do some people just have to do that, like it's their energy source? Not only does it put me in a foul mood but then I replay the conversation over and over in my head, so much so that it continues sapping my energy days after the thing is done and over with (as evidenced by me blogging about it today). I hate that. So, dear readers, how do you combat the soul suckers in your life?