I just want to be happy

“Hi? Do you have a minute? I got the results last night. It’s Alzheimer’s,” my dad told me, five minutes before I had a meeting with the president of the company I work for. I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in my eyes.

“Okay,” I said. “How are you doing?”

“You know, I expected this. It wasn’t a surprise. I feel okay. I feel good. I just want to be happy, I want to do the things I love and spend time with my family,” he replied.

“I have to go, I have a meeting.”

“Okay, call me later.”

And that was it. That was how I found out that my dad’s charming forgetfulness was actually Alzheimer’s. I don’t even really totally understand what Alzheimer’s is, other than it makes your memory slowly deteriorate. My brother-in-law’s dad died of Alzheimer’s in 2020 and it was really, really rough the last few years of his life. Like, heart-wrenchingly tough on my brother-in-law (who truthfully, feels more like a brother than an in-law…whatever that means), his brother and his mom. I only witnessed it from the periphery, It wasn’t my dad.

I somehow made it through my meeting without letting any tears fall down my face, at least not in an obvious way. I don’t really know what anyone said. It didn’t matter. Not to me. Not in that moment. Not now that I know one day, my dad may not know who I am one day. I was crushed. I knew this was a possibility when, a year ago, we learned that he had cognitive impairment. I knew he was forgetting things, in more obvious ways, over the last few months. He got lost on a walk, recently, in the neighborhood he’s lived in for over 40 years. Still, I was surprised by the overwhelming grief of it all.

After all, he’s still here. He not only still knows who I am, he might be the only person in the world who truly believes that I am the greatest gift the world has ever received. We have an awesome relationship. He makes me laugh like no one else. He has an awesome sense of humor. He loves to hike and play pickle ball and smoke weed (this, for me, will never get old). He’s consistently the most charming person in the room. Everyone loves being around him. My daughter and husband love him.

He’s still here.

I call him back. I ask when we can meet with the neurologist to understand what’s going on and what to expect. He doesn’t know. The call has a poor connection and I can’t really make out everything he’s saying, but I listen. He says he feels bad for making me feel sad. He isn’t making me feel sad. The idea of losing him is making me feel sad.

Of course we all lose someone, at some point.

I like talking to you

“Maybe you could ask Santa to give you a week off of work or something. You could pick me up early from school and we could do fun things together,” she says to me, at the end of what feels like an exceptionally long week.

The holidays are upon us. Our kid is out of school for a week. Our after-school childcare is closed for the week and we didn’t want to spend an additional $500 for a few days of “Thanksgiving Week Camp” during what is the one of the most expensive months of the year. My job is more flexible than my husband’s so I’ve been home with our kid, solo, for the past week. The fact that I can do my job from home means I’ve spent the last week juggling work and parenting - both at the same time - while careening into holiday season 2022, which began two days ago with Thanksgiving dinner at my house.

This past week felt like the cherry on top of several, delightfully stressful weeks of a stomach bug, the sniffly nose that won’t quit, an on-again/off-again fever and a nightmare-inducing cough. Somewhere in there, my boss got fired and my work-life upended itself, more or less overnight, Oh, and did I mention I’m also trying to start a business? To say that I have been stressed out of my mind is an understatement. I am mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted to my core.

The week started okay-ish. I tried to work while my daughter interrupted every meeting on my calendar. I accept this is life now, with the flexibility of WFH, and it’s a trade-off I’m willing to deal with. My kid can highlight my humanity asking me for a snack every time it is my turn to speak in the Teams meeting. Most of us are parents, and everyone can relate to learning to be adaptable given the massive life disruptions of the past two+ years. Still, I can’t help but feel irritated, and a little resentful (of who? I’m not sure…), every time she does it.

On Tuesday, I scheduled a mother/daughter volunteer session at the local food bank to break up the day. I worked in the morning, she watched tv for about 4 solid hours, we took a break to go volunteer and then came home so I could finish out my work before taking time off for Thanksgiving.

By Wednesday, we were in full-on prep mode. We were grocery shopping for missing ingredients, baking pies and setting the table. I was feeling progressively more irritated with each passing day, expected and unexpected tasks and endless requests from my daughter to play with her. I didn’t have time to play, I had stuff to do.

Thanksgiving was a bit of a blur. Partly because the days all feel somewhat blurry right now and party because I put myself to bed, before dessert, without saying a word to my dinner guests.

Friday, I lounged around almost the entire day. I am ashamed to admit how much tv everyone watched. By early afternoon, I had mustered the energy to clean up the mess from our holiday dinner. Feeling guilty about how I’d spent my time, I ate my feelings, in the form of many slices of leftover pie.

This morning, I woke up ready for a different kind of day. A day of presence. A day of quality time. A day of nothing and everything. A day of allowing my intuition to guide me towards whatever it is, that I need.

I realized I need a lot of things. I need rest. I need joy. I need time to be. I need to turn off my phone. I need to listen - to my body, to my heart, to my loved ones. I need to drink more water. I need to walk more. I need sunshine everyday. I need to slow down. I need to get quiet. I need to let go.

And tonight, as I write this note next to my snoring, sleeping daughter, I am filled with gratitude. For slowing down enough to talk to my kid. To ask her questions about why she does the things she does, most of them that drive me nuts. To listen to her share her perspective, which I hadn’t considered. To watch her light up as she shared her thoughts and ideas with me. And to see her connect different thoughts and ideas together to generate new understandings of how the world works. And to experience the world through her eyes…when I slow down enough to listen.

“I like talking to you. This is so fun!” She said, just before she fell asleep. Out of all the things that happened this week, this moment is the only one that feels like it matters.

Be Her

I heard you walking around your room in the middle of the night. Your Dad was leaving for work, it was an ungodly hour and I could hear you puttering around your room. Doing what? I have no idea, but you putter around your room every, single night (or morning? do we consider this morning?) from about 4/4:30 - 5/5:30. It makes me crazy.

I feel this out-of-control frustration because just when I think you must be totally exhausted so you’ll surely fall asleep and stay asleep for the whole night…for once…you don’t. It never happens. It feels like it will never happen. This feels like some kind of retribution for our holding a boundary and making you sleep in your own room after two years of bad pandemic sleeping habits. Two years in which you were the only person who slept through the night because you hogged the bed and kicked everyone around you. It’s either you get sleep or I get sleep, but we will never - not ever, not under any single circumstance, ever - will we both sleep at the same time and for the same duration. It’s not in the cards for us, my sleep-mocking child of a sleep-obsessed mother.

I can't fall back asleep unless I know you're sleeping. And much to my chagrin, you do this nighttime circus of noise-making every single night so I have become the woman who cannot sleep.

So last night, around 4-something, when I first heard you, I shouted through the wall, "Go back to sleep! Get back in your bed and go to sleep!" I then proceeded to toss and turn for the next 2.5 hours, and I never fell back to sleep. Instead, I lie there, feeling bad about shouting at you, stewing about work stuff, and willing it to be the end of the day at the end of a loooooong week. I just want time to get my shit together and I want that time to include sleep.

And then you burst into my bedroom.

"I don't feel good, Mama," you say, meekly, as you walk over to my bed and crawl in next to me. Your coughs rattle your whole body.

I put my hand on your face. Your skin is warm to the touch. You rest your head on the empty pillow beside me.

I feel like a jerk. I was shouting at you in the middle of the night and you were probably feeling terrible and trying to get to sleep.

I take your temperature. 101.6. Oof.

"You're staying home today, Sweetpea," I tell you as I pull your little body into my arms.

You smile up at me, “I’m glad you’re my mama. I love you.”

“I’m glad you’re my Sweetpea.”

Loving you is the wildest ride. You drive me absolutely freaking bananas most of the time. You push every button I’ve got, and some I didn’t know I have. You test my patience, refuse to let me sleep and interrupt every spare minute I have. And yet you push me, everyday, to become the person I want to be. I don’t know who she is, but I know you see her.

I keep coming back, because I want to meet her.

May 30, 2022

Dear Sweetpea,

I’m sitting on the deck on this warm Monday afternoon, Memorial Day, writing to you. Lulu is lying down at my feet and I was shopping for new outdoor furniture for, what I hope will be, our dream backyard. I can hear Alexa playing, "Let me love you,” on the speaker and you’re dancing inside, in the living room.

Your dad just got home and he’s making snacks for us in the kitchen.

I got caught in my head yesterday and felt bad that we spent most of the day at home, you, watching tv; your dad, walking with Lu; and me, scrolling on my phone. By 1:30, we were at the pool. We don’t know if we want, or can afford, a pool in our backyard so I signed us up for a swim season membership at a local community pool. It was our first visit, and it was so fun! It felt great to get out of the house, be outside in the sun - and, off of our devices - and spend some family time together. When we got home, I started scrolling on my phone - and got back caught up in my head - and started feeling guilty and bad about myself. Why? I don’t know.

We had a really great afternoon, splashing around in the pool on a hot day and trying to encourage you to practice paddling to keep yourself afloat. You loved it, being at the pool and playing. I loved seeing you spend some time with your dad. You ordered a soft-serve ice cream at the snack shack before we left to go home and grill hamburgers.

I was still stuck in the morning, before we left the house, and everyone was on a phone or watching tv. I don’t think it’s my responsibility to entertain you 24/7 but, I beat myself up about the fact that I don’t want to. That sometimes I want time to myself, that I want to sit alone and to have no one ask me for anything, for a full day. And because of that guilt - shame, really - I decided to have a drink.

I didn’t go overboard, I didn’t get drunk. But I did get a good, solid buzz going. I was drinking to numb the feeling of shame. I really hate that feeling, it’s so ugly. And so lonely. And so unbelievably uncomfortable. And I feel it a lot.

It often feels like, on some level, that I don’t deserve to feel joy. My life has been pretty easy, without any major obstacles or life trauma. I haven’t had to struggle, really, except with my own inner demons of feeling unworthy, anxious and unlovable. And I feel so privileged to be able to say that, and yet undeserving of the gift that my life really is.

And as I write that, and observe these thoughts pouring out of my head, I realize that it is no one else’s responsibility to help me realize that my life is a gift. And just as I start to feel full of gratitude for my life - this life - you walk out onto the deck and interrupt my thoughtstream.

“We had a pretty fun day, right, Mama?”

“We did,” I respond.

“We went to breakfast together and I had yummy pancakes! With strawberries! And then we got crafts! And I got new swim stuff! And you got a magazine and that sparkle water that you like so much! And I organized my Perler beads! We did a lot of fun things.”

Indeed, we did. I had a great day, too. I’m grateful for the lessons you teach me everyday.

Love,

Mama

May 10, 2022

Dear Sweetpea,

Today, you woke up at 5:45am. The only thing I hate more than waking up, is waking up early, so I was irritated. I was probably grumpy with you, too, which is not fair. I’m sorry.

Once I finally dragged myself out of bed and up to make your breakfast, you were feeling sassy. I asked you what you wanted for breakfast, and you shouted, “I don’t want to think about it!” So, I decided to make you what I wanted: yogurt & banana. I chose the path of least prep and no dishes.

“I didn’t ask for this!”

“Right. You didn’t want to answer the question, so this is what I chose to make you,” I said.

“Mama, I wanted avocado toast!”

It’s so weird, the way you like avocado toast. Your diet consists mainly of chicken nuggets, tater tots, quesadillas, pizza and grilled cheese sandwiches. While not like totally exotic or anything, it’s still an unusual breakfast preference for a 6 year-old. It just requires more steps than what I am ready for at that stage in my morning. I have to get out a bowl and a knife and a cutting board. It requires some mixing and ingredients and seasoning. And you like it cut in half. You’re kind of a diva.

You wanted me to braid your hair today, which you never want. It’s fun for me, styling your hair. I always imagined myself doing that for my daughter, like Nana did for me. I always wore fun hairstyles as a kid and I kind of hope you do, too. I braided the sides back and tied them off. You put a new headband on. You’re so into clothes and style and expressing yourself. It’s so fun to watch you become who you’re meant to be. You went from this tiny little baby who scared the shit out of me every time you screamed after nursing to this super cool little person who challenges me to grow into a better version of myself everyday. I’ve learned more about love and acceptance in the six short years I’ve been your mom than I have in the entirety of my 38 years of life.

Right now, I’m sitting at the kitchen table - the one that’s more of your craft station, strewn about with glue sticks and marker and half-completed craft projects, than any kind of table anyone can dine at - writing this note to you. We had tacos for dinner because I’m unoriginal and Taco Tuesday seemed like a fun way to have a consistent dinner plan at least one night of the week. That, and it’s one of the few meals that we all like, so it makes for an easy time getting us all together to eat at the dinner table which I really like. I wish I was one of those parents who set the tone that every night is family dinner at the dinner table, where we all eat the same thing and no one eats food heated from the freezer, but that’s not who I am. We do it when we can and I’m grateful tonight was one of those nights.

Wita is visiting from Tennessee and tonight is her last night in California. I can hear you reading books to her. The more you learn to recognize words, the more you want to practice reading. It’s a joy to see you grow and change and learn new things. Over the last few months, I’ve loved seeing your interest in reading grow. Books and words are incredible, the way they can transport us to other worlds just by swirling around in our heads. I hope you grow to love words and reading and stories. It’s one of the ways I love you most, the way we share words and reading and stories.

It’s almost bedtime for the kid who wakes up with the sun and her mama, who loves to sleep.

Xo,

Mama

April 26, 2022

We’re going on Day 9 of our at-home isolation period. It’s been 9 days since D started the morning by throwing up, 8 days since she tested positive for COVID, 7 days since I started feeling crappy, 6 days since A and I tested positive for COVID and 3,975,768,482 hours together. At home. No one comes in and no one goes out.

I started the day in a funk. I felt shittier than I expected to feel at this point in my COVID journey. I’m vaxxed, boosted and somehow I felt worse this morning than I did yesterday. Walking up the stairs left me feeling winded and trying to catch my breath. And on top of that, I haven’t left my house or seen anyone other than my child and my spouse (and my co-workers, on Microsoft Teams, if that counts). Nothing really really seems to function smoothly these days, least of all my mood.

I guess that’s just life. It feels more like an in-my-face reality right now, because there is nothing else to focus on, other than what is right here in front of my face, at this very minute.

I’m sitting here, tonight, realizing that this is as good as it gets. This is it. There is no “culmination” so to speak. These are the good days, the bad days and all the days in between. Today, I choose to see mine as full:

1. I haven’t had much of an appetite over the last week. Nothing sounds good to me and I constantly feel a little wonky so I don’t feel much like eating. I made myself a bowl of strawberries, yogurt and honey for lunch. It was the first thing I ate all day. It was more nutritious than the sourdough toast and butter, banana, or random Easter candy I’ve been snacking on every other day. I sat outside in the sunshine and ate my lunch, appreciating the fact that I can work from home and enjoy my downtime in my most favorite places around my home.

2. Right after I ate lunch, I started to lose my shit. D had been watching tv for about three hours, while I tried to work and A was doing garden-stuff in the backyard. Everything about work was driving me nuts. Everyone needed something from me and I was on the brink of a meltdown. I passive-aggressively suggested to A that he do something with our kid. I continued stewing, over nothing, while they headed out towards the park. I made my 4th call, in as many days, to our FSA benefits administrator about a claim issue that refuses to resolve. In frustration, I hung up the phone and decided to put on my sneakers, pop in my earbuds and leash-up the dog. I headed out on a walk, where almost immediately ran into my kid, dog and husband. After having just asked them to please get out of the house, I was surprisingly happy to see them. They joined me for about half of my walk and I enjoyed the company - out of the house, away from work and all the responsibilities of home.

3. I picked out a dress for Molly’s wedding. It wasn’t A or D’s favorite dress, but it was the dress I that felt most like me. Normally, I would go with someone else’s opinion for the preferred dress, opting for what makes my husband and/or kid happy rather than what makes me happy. It felt like a small win, but a win nonetheless. I imagine they don’t care that much about what I wear, but they do have opinions when I ask for them. If I’m wearing it, it’s my opinion that matters most.

4. I felt like cooking tonight. I haven’t been in the mood to cook for a really long time, most (if not all) of the pandemic. I used to really love it - trying new recipes, finding something that’s both healthy and tasty, and the ritual of shifting from daytime to night. Taco Tuesday, the most basic of family dinner theme nights, was on the menu. We had ground beef tacos, we sat at the dinner table together and we talked about what was good today and what we didn’t like.

5. When I put D to bed tonight, I played her a meditation from an app, like I always do. She likes to answer the question prompts before the meditation: How are you feeling? She usually chooses ‘Great’ but today she chose ‘Good’ and said, “Today wasn’t great, it was pretty good.” I asked her why not great. “Because we were stuck at home all day. But then we went for a walk and we weren’t stuck at home. And I was bored to be at home but I was also happy to be home with you.” Just when I am on the brink of losing my sanity because I’ve had way too much time with my kid, with no breaks and no interruptions, and I don’t know how I can make it two more days living like this…she says something adorable.

This is it. This is the good stuff, the bad stuff and everything in between.

April 18, 2022

I woke up at 5:30 to the nonstop, restless wiggles of my kid, in the bed next to me.

“Get up, go upstairs. I can’t sleep with all your wiggling,” I say.

“I can’t. My tummy hurts,” she whimpers.

Immediately, I feel like an asshole as I remember that she said her tummy hurt when she went to bed the night before.

“Do you think you might throw up?” I ask her.

“No. I just need it to be quiet in here.”

I closed my eyes and try to fall back asleep, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how the day ahead would unfold. I just had Friday off, so I didn’t want to take another day off. I had a couple meetings on my calendar that I didn’t want to reschedule. Plus, I had to catch up on everything I missed while I was out.

She’ll be sleeping on the couch most of the day, anyways, I think to myself.

And then she threw up and so did the dog.

Tonight, I am grateful for a day that didn’t go as planned:

1. My kid stayed home sick. I expected her to be couch-bound for the day and dozing in and out of sleep. Instead, she threw up once, ate breakfast and suddenly regained all her energy and enthusiasm. She rotated between watching tv, playing on the iPad, playing with her dollhouse, building forts, painting, FaceTiming Nana and Pops and watching more tv. It wasn’t my preferred way for my kid to spend the day, but I’m proud of her. She found ways to entertain herself throughout the day. She took breaks from watching tv. She left me to work, mostly uninterrupted, for the majority of the day. Today was a good reminder that “not what I expected” doesn’t have to be a bad thing. The next time she has to stay home, unexpectedly, I have more confidence that the day doesn’t have to turn into a shitshow.

2. I wasn’t able to exercise much because of work and parenting and taking care of a sick dog, but I ate pretty well. Which is to say I did not eat my stress and drown myself in sugar and snacks (my usual MO on a tough day). Instead, I listened to my body. I ate only a piece of sourdough toast and a banana in the morning because I felt queasy being cooped up with my two barfing babies. By lunch, I was feeling pretty good and had some vegetables and quinoa and an egg, along with plenty of water. I remembered that eating good makes me feel good and made my choices accordingly.

3. My husband came home and took charge of dinner. He didn’t ask me what I wanted or what he should make, he just did it. He found a recipe. He got out the InstaPot. He cut the chicken and the vegetables and made chicken and rice soup, one of my favorites. While he cooked, he encouraged me to take the dog for a walk. I felt lazy and didn’t want to get dressed. I kept my pjs on. I put on slide-on sneakers. I grabbed a vest to stash my phone (does a walk even matter if there is no proof of how many steps I take?!), I popped my earbuds in and I walked out the door before I had time to talk myself out of it. Thirty eight minutes later, I walked back in the door and dinner was ready.

4. I just drank a hot cup of hot cocoa. My husband fell asleep putting my kid to bed. It’s just past 8pm and I have an hour - and the house - to myself for the rest of the night. Bridgerton awaits.

5. Monday is over. The most dreaded day of the week. It feels like smooth-sailing from here.

Grateful for today, open-minded for tomorrow.

April 10, 2022

Tonight, I am grateful for a day full of activities. This time, 12 hours ago, all I wanted to do was cancel on everyone and laze about in bed, while wearing pajamas, and scrolling all day on my phone. I’m glad I chose the other path.

1. Starting the day with coffee & breakfast with friends - outside of my own house - at 8:30am is not my usual weekend activity. But, today, I had plans and I didn’t want to bail. I didn’t sleep great and I live to lounge in bed until 9 on weekend mornings. I was still full from the night before - nachos and birthday cake - and didn’t feel particularly hungry. I drank wine in a not-super-chill way, more of in a I want to drink to take the edge off of my social anxiety so the wine goes down crazy-super-fast and I keep refilling my glass kind of way and I didn’t love that about myself in the light of day. Anyways, I made it up, out of bed and at the coffee place by 8:35am and I was proud of being almost on time despite the strong desire to not be vertical at that hour. We had coffee and a bite to eat, it was even “hippy shit” as my friend pointed out. It felt good to sit around and talk about real life stuff, the kind that’s hard, and listen to their latest life updates. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to not wallow in judgment.

2. I made the time to run on the treadmill today. Not to punish myself, as I have been known to do, for my overindulgences yesterday. I ran on the treadmill so I could have more time to listen to a podcast I wanted to finish. It would also allow me to do something good for myself, knowing that I would step off the treadmill after running 2 miles and walking another half or so and feel relaxed and in a peaceful state-of-mind. It worked and didn’t take a ton of time. I could do it while my kid played with her dolls next to me (read: I did something for myself and my kid did not watch tv). I worked up a sweat and then took a hot, midday shower which felt like an indulgence after my run. All together, it was about 60 rejuvenating minutes all for myself and gave me the energy for the rest of the day.

3. Our kid had a playdate at our house today with a friend she’s known since she was about 6 months old. Even at this age, playdates still feel a bit like work. I have to make lunches and snacks and come up with ideas of things for them to do. Sometimes, we go out to the park by the house. Sometimes, I sit on the front stoop and supervise while they cruise around in the PowerWheels. Often times, I referee their arguments or complaints about one another. Today, I sat on the deck and read a magazine. I roasted some beets for the week ahead. I made hard-boiled eggs for lunches. I did laundry and put clothes away and tidied up the house. It wasn’t exactly glamorous but I always feel good and like I am starting a new week on fresh footing when I make the time to get organized.

4. We also had a playdate at a park nearby with some friends from school. The kids all ran around, and played in the sand and climbed on the play structures, while the parents laughed and shared parenting stories until it was time to head home for dinner. Getting to know parents who are unaware that our kid is transgender is always really awkward for me. As much as I would like to be open about it, because I feel like doing so would release any shame associated with gender identity, she doesn’t want anyone to know that she was assigned male at birth so I make a point to not talk about it. I’m sure people think it’s odd that she has a traditionally-masculine, non-traditional name but maybe they don’t think about us at all. I’m learning how to be fine with all of it. And whether - or how to - find the words to have conversations with her about the birds and the bees and how it relates to her body. It makes me uncomfortable to think about, but I want to always make her feel normal and loved, exactly as she is. Despite my perma-awkwardness and the fact that we haven’t all endured the challenges of our transgender preschooler’s social transition (thank you preschool parent group!), all of the parents make me feel welcome and the kids make my kid feel loved and accepted. I could bottle up that feeling, it’s the best.

5. My husband made dinner tonight. It was ribeye and a salad and tortellini for the little one because we never learned the lesson of everyone in the family eating the same meal. It drives me nuts; she’s so picky about what she eats, none of it is green and way too much of it comes from a package. But we sat at the dining table together, ate our separate dinners and talked about our day and whether or not magic is real.

It wasn’t magic, but it was real and lovely and just the kind of day I wanted and didn’t know I needed. For that, I am grateful.