It's the end of day one. Lily has peed on every surface of our living room. And I. Am. Exhausted.
But. She's more willing to sit on the potty now. She even sat her doll on it, then her monkey, then she sat down herself. We even had a time when I caught her peeing and put her on the potty. And she heard the music, and we made it a great big deal.
I'm guessing that she has no idea what's going on. But I'm going to give it one more day, since Ryan and I will both be home tomorrow. (I'm realizing it practically takes one person just staring at her, trying to anticipate whether she *might* have to potty.) I've decided to take away the fruit snack idea. She doesn't really understand rewards. She just gets frustrated that she can't have them all the time. But we'll try one more day. My hope is that she might develop the habit of peeing on the potty before she thinks to question it.
But for now, I'm just going to sit here and drink my beer and think about all of the cleaning I have to do tomorrow...
Friday, February 25, 2011
I'm a Big Kid Now!
Yesterday Lily was taking a bath when she looked at me, grabbed herself, and said "poop?" We have never discussed potties or diapers or anything, but I figured it couldn't hurt. So I put her on the potty. She seemed pretty pleased with herself, and then wanted toilet paper. (Any Mom of a toddler has taken the toddler to the bathroom with her many, many times. We are no exception, so she had seen Mommy sit there.)Of course, she didn't do anything on the potty. She just sat there. And eventually we moved on.
Then I was trying to dress her, and she threw a fit when I tried to put her diaper on. this isn't that unusual. She hates diapers. But it made me wonder. Is she ready? I examined the facts:
1. She hates diapers.
2. She knows when she is going to go #2. And then she hides to get some privacy. But she knows.
3. She hates diapers.
4. She's staying dry for much longer stretches.
5. She hates diapers.
6. She can follow easy directions.
7. Did I mention she hates diapers?
Anyone who has ever tried to change Lily knows how difficult it can be. It's not that I'm in a hurry, but it can't hurt, right? So I started research using my most logical resource: facebook. There are as many opinions as there are parents, but they all seemed to be saying the same thing. It couldn't hurt, give it a shot.
So, when Lily woke up from her nap, I sat her on the big potty, and took her diaper off. "Here we go," I thought. Naturally, she wet herself twice within the first fifteen minutes. OK, I was expecting that, I didn't even have any of the right potty training stuff, it was all just an experiment anyway... There was a time yesterday, though, when she looked at me, panicked, and said "bath?" We had already taken a bath. We were not taking another bath. Then she got upset and tried to get over the baby gate. "PLEASE!" she begged. "BATH!" And then she peed. "Ewwwwwww yucky yucky yucky." Was she trying to tell me she had to go? Who knows. She might have wanted another bath, that girl would live in there if we'd let her. But it's possible...
Last night the Smith Family made a trip to Target where we purchased a potty, (a pink one that looks like a throne. It plays music when you "go" in it. Once this happens for the first time, I am convinced it will make all the difference in the world.) some big girl underwear, ("Princess and the Frog," and Tinkerbell. Naturally.) some Pull-Ups, (for night time, naps, and if we absolutely must go somewhere in the next few days.) and some fruit snacks. I downloaded the potty dance, we're starting to learn the choreography, and I have the iGoPotty app. (yes. This is a real thing.)
Here's what Lily knows so far:
1. The potty is hers.
2. When she sits on it, she gets a fruit snack.
3. When the phone "rings" with the "I'm a Big Kid Now" song, it is "for her." It means she gets to push the answer button, sit on the potty, and listen to the music it plays.
4. She hates diapers.
So. When Lily wakes up, I'm taking off the pull-up, putting on the big girl pants, and we'll see. I have zero expectations. It may last a few hours, or she might be that kid who just gets it right away. I'll post our progress, feel free to laugh at us.
Then I was trying to dress her, and she threw a fit when I tried to put her diaper on. this isn't that unusual. She hates diapers. But it made me wonder. Is she ready? I examined the facts:
1. She hates diapers.
2. She knows when she is going to go #2. And then she hides to get some privacy. But she knows.
3. She hates diapers.
4. She's staying dry for much longer stretches.
5. She hates diapers.
6. She can follow easy directions.
7. Did I mention she hates diapers?
Anyone who has ever tried to change Lily knows how difficult it can be. It's not that I'm in a hurry, but it can't hurt, right? So I started research using my most logical resource: facebook. There are as many opinions as there are parents, but they all seemed to be saying the same thing. It couldn't hurt, give it a shot.
So, when Lily woke up from her nap, I sat her on the big potty, and took her diaper off. "Here we go," I thought. Naturally, she wet herself twice within the first fifteen minutes. OK, I was expecting that, I didn't even have any of the right potty training stuff, it was all just an experiment anyway... There was a time yesterday, though, when she looked at me, panicked, and said "bath?" We had already taken a bath. We were not taking another bath. Then she got upset and tried to get over the baby gate. "PLEASE!" she begged. "BATH!" And then she peed. "Ewwwwwww yucky yucky yucky." Was she trying to tell me she had to go? Who knows. She might have wanted another bath, that girl would live in there if we'd let her. But it's possible...
Last night the Smith Family made a trip to Target where we purchased a potty, (a pink one that looks like a throne. It plays music when you "go" in it. Once this happens for the first time, I am convinced it will make all the difference in the world.) some big girl underwear, ("Princess and the Frog," and Tinkerbell. Naturally.) some Pull-Ups, (for night time, naps, and if we absolutely must go somewhere in the next few days.) and some fruit snacks. I downloaded the potty dance, we're starting to learn the choreography, and I have the iGoPotty app. (yes. This is a real thing.)
Here's what Lily knows so far:
1. The potty is hers.
2. When she sits on it, she gets a fruit snack.
3. When the phone "rings" with the "I'm a Big Kid Now" song, it is "for her." It means she gets to push the answer button, sit on the potty, and listen to the music it plays.
4. She hates diapers.
So. When Lily wakes up, I'm taking off the pull-up, putting on the big girl pants, and we'll see. I have zero expectations. It may last a few hours, or she might be that kid who just gets it right away. I'll post our progress, feel free to laugh at us.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Can You Feel the Love Tonight- Part 2
First, let me apologize for being somewhat MIA. I have been focusing on Momentum Rep's blog this month. Lily is dressing as a different musical every day. It's adorable. You can check it out at www.momentumrep.blogspot.com
But I had a rather extraordinary experience the other day, and it needed to be shared.
I saw "The Lion King." I know, I know, didn't we already do this a few months ago? Sitting in the audience, holding my breath, watching someone I care about and have helped nurture?
Yes, we did that. And you can read about the time we took Lily to see "The Lion King" on Broadway in my November post, "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?"
But this time it wasn't my daughter I was watching, it was a student. And that student wasn't in the audience. She was onstage.
I met Syndee in the Fall of 2007 when I started teaching at Five Towns College. She was introduced to me by the head of the department. It was clear he was very proud of her- he told me all about how she had been a Knick's dancer. She presented herself with confidence. She knew what she wanted. And one of the things she wanted was for me to teach her voice lessons. Even though my studio was full, some phone calls were made, and soon we were all set. I was a little intimidated by the whole situation, truth be told.
We met a few days later in my obscenely small studio where I taught lessons. (and by "my" studio, I only mean that I was assigned there when I taught. It wasn't actually "mine.") I had to push my chair back into a corner so we could get far enough away from each other to have a conversation. And that's when Syndee told me that she was going to be Nala in "The Lion King." She told me she had cut out pictures from the show and tacked them to a bulletin board so she could see it every day. And I believed that she would do it. Someday, anyway.
Over the next few years, we worked on some subtleties of Syndee's voice. She was already fabulous, of course. And as someone close to her, I was privileged enough to watch her perform many times- including seeing her sing the National Anthem at a Knicks game. But she didn't want to be told she was fabulous. She wanted to be told what needed work. And I told her. And she worked. And she just kept getting better.
In the summer of 2008, my best friend and I started Momentum Repertory Company, producing our first full musical- "Godspell." I cast Syndee to sing the rip-roaring "Oh Bless the Lord, My Soul." This part was not a surprise to anyone. But what was a little surprising to many was the fact that I dressed her as a homeless woman. Because I knew the last thing she wanted to do was play another glamorous character. She wanted to work on her acting skills. And her portrayal of that homeless woman brought the audience to tears.
Back at Five Towns that fall, Syndee and I continued to work. And then one day, she was called in for Nala. We had work to do. Major work. Not just vocally- her skills there had improved incredibly over the past year. But real acting work. What could she bring to "Shadowland" that others hadn't brought? How could she make it about the story and character, and not just about her incredible voice? We grabbed Jenn Spears (now a Board member for MRC) and set to work picking the song apart. Making intense, difficult acting choices. And by the end of our lesson, when she sang it for the final time, I don't know how the walls of that flimsy little practice room were still standing.
I left Five Towns College to adopt. And adopt I did. And when Lily was just a few months old, I got a phone call. It was Syndee.
"Hey," she said casually. "Are you holding the baby?" I told her I wasn't. That I had put her down for a nap. "OK good. I didn't want you to drop her when I told you I was just cast as Nala in the National Tour."
Of course she was. I was thrilled for her. But I wasn't surprised.
Syndee came in for one more coaching before heading out. Lily was fussing a little, so Syndee held her while she sang "Shadowland" so I could play the piano. (Lily now thinks this is normal. Don't most toddlers hang out on Broadway and have Nala personally serenade them in their living rooms?) I gave her a few tips here and there, but honestly, there was little I could say. She was ready.
I looked at the tour schedule as soon as it was available, saw that the show would be in Providence on my Dad's birthday, and knew that's when we could go. It was difficult for us to afford the tickets, but nothing would keep me from seeing her in this show. So, this past Sunday, we all headed out to the Providence Performing Arts Center. (and by "all," I mean, Ryan and I, my Dad, and his friend Mary. Lily stayed with my Dad's neighbor. I made the decision that this day needed to be about Syndee, and if Lily was there, well, any event in which Lily is involved is about Lily.) I could hardly sit still as we ate our pizza before the show, I was even antsier as Ryan and I had a drink at the bar, and by the time we were in our seats I was ready to burst. I couldn't take it anymore.
"I know you don't care," I said to the total stranger sitting next to me, "but the woman playing Nala is my voice student." She understood what a very big deal this was, and we chatted until the show began.
I enjoyed the first act, but also just wanted it to hurry up, as the adult Nala doesn't appear until Act 2. And when she appeared, the entire audience was captivated. It had nothing to do with knowing her or nurturing her or being proud of her. This girl is brilliant. And after she sang "Shadowland," there was a brief hush, and then wild applause. Someone behind me even said "Oh my God!"
Watching her sing that song and seeing the choices she was making was completely surreal for me. We worked on it in a practice room so small she was singing directly to the wall. And here was that work, being shown for thousands.
I wanted to save my standing ovation for Syndee's bow, but everyone else jumped to their feet right away. It's a great show, I wasn't about to be that jerk who just sits there during a standing O. (although I've been known to be that jerk. I don't stand just because everyone else does.) So I stood, and I yelled and clapped my hands above my head when she came out. And so did everyone else. She looked out into the crowd and mouthed the words "stage door" while pointing to an exit. Hooray! That message was for me!
Backstage, I told Syndee how she was fabulous and brilliant. And I hugged her. And we got the tour. And I was so, so proud of her.
But as we left, it wasn't just the fact that I was proud of her that was staying with me. Syndee is an example of knowing what you want, saying it out loud, and going after it. You need the talent, of course. And a lot of luck. But sometimes, that drive. That clarity. THAT is what makes all the difference.
Sunday, January 30, 2011
I Can't Think of a Music Theatre Song about Goodbye? Really? Oh well.
My daughter is extremely loving. My daughter is extremely happy. My daughter will decide right away if she loves you- she probably will- and insist that you accept her hugs. She is extremely charismatic. Even as an infant, people couldn’t help but look at her and interact with her, and this is a trait that has only further developed with age. Her mission in life seems to be spreading joy, and even as a toddler, she wants to teach. If she is experiencing something she thinks you should experience she will take your hand so you, too, can feel. I would like to think that some of these characteristics come from me. I have been told that I am loving, and nurturing. That I am a natural leader and teacher.
But my daughter and I share another trait that I hope she will eventually outgrow. Neither one of us can handle goodbyes. I’m hoping this is not something she has learned from me. I don’t think it’s something I’ve demonstrated to her. But really. She. Cannot. Handle. Goodbyes.
Now let me be clear. It is absolutely typical for a toddler to have separation anxiety when a parent leaves. It’s also typical for a toddler to be afraid of strangers. But my daughter is special. She has anxiety separation from strangers. If we ride on the elevator with neighbors for two floors, and the new best friends get out at the first floor, but we’re taking the elevator to the basement, she screams and cries hysterically. Literal hysterics. And great big crocodile tears. It is heartbreaking. If a package comes for us, I sign, and it turns out the UPS man isn’t going to be her new brother, she pounds on the door and until she collapses in exhaustion. Dropping off our babysitter at the train station means at least twenty minutes of crying.
And it’s even worse when it’s Mommy or Daddy.
Ryan left for work today, and after a half-hour of banging on the ground, she looked at me and said “night night.” It wasn’t even close to naptime, but it was all more than she could handle, and she slept for nearly four hours.
For strangers or people who don’t know Lily as well, this whole thing is cute and endearing. “Oh, look how much she loves me!” Sure. If you want to feel special, go for it. But she has the same reaction to the pizza man.
To those of us who spend more time with her, it is sad, and a little funny sometimes, and I have to say, a little confusing. For the most part, she’s a tough chick. This is the only part of her life that seems to be difficult for her. She sleeps well, she eats well, she plays well- alone or with others. She just doesn’t like to say goodbye.
Interestingly enough, Lily only has trouble when other people are leaving her. If she’s the one leaving, it’s “bye-bye!” with a smile and a wave. She loves bye-bye. But if Daddy puts his coat on to go to the grocery store, you can bet she’s going to try to put her coat on too. It’s easy to be the one leaving. It’s hard to be the one left behind. And it makes me wonder. Is she that afraid people will never come back? Does she really connect to people that instantly?
But maybe she is. And maybe she does.
I am, unfortunately, in a world where people come and go. I don’t work in an office where people retire with a gold watch after forty years. I don’t live in a town where people are born and raised. Where they stay to raise their families. Where they’re buried next to their parents. (Well, OK. Technically I totally live in a town like that. But I am not yet fully-acclimated, and I don’t know that I’ll ever feel like I’m not a New Yorker in some sense.) I work in a field in which people do one show together. They spend all of their time together for six weeks. They share everything and feel like best friends. And then they go away. Maybe they’ll stay in touch, maybe they won’t. And that part of it just kills me. It’s part of why we started our theatre company- to provide a greater sense of community in a field that can be so cold. In a city where people live for months, or years, or a lifetime, but never know how long they‘ll be there, really. Not for sure.
So maybe it’s not that Lily is too young to understand people are probably coming back. Maybe she’s really got it all figured out, and she’s just too young to know she shouldn’t be so honest.
But my daughter and I share another trait that I hope she will eventually outgrow. Neither one of us can handle goodbyes. I’m hoping this is not something she has learned from me. I don’t think it’s something I’ve demonstrated to her. But really. She. Cannot. Handle. Goodbyes.
Now let me be clear. It is absolutely typical for a toddler to have separation anxiety when a parent leaves. It’s also typical for a toddler to be afraid of strangers. But my daughter is special. She has anxiety separation from strangers. If we ride on the elevator with neighbors for two floors, and the new best friends get out at the first floor, but we’re taking the elevator to the basement, she screams and cries hysterically. Literal hysterics. And great big crocodile tears. It is heartbreaking. If a package comes for us, I sign, and it turns out the UPS man isn’t going to be her new brother, she pounds on the door and until she collapses in exhaustion. Dropping off our babysitter at the train station means at least twenty minutes of crying.
And it’s even worse when it’s Mommy or Daddy.
Ryan left for work today, and after a half-hour of banging on the ground, she looked at me and said “night night.” It wasn’t even close to naptime, but it was all more than she could handle, and she slept for nearly four hours.
For strangers or people who don’t know Lily as well, this whole thing is cute and endearing. “Oh, look how much she loves me!” Sure. If you want to feel special, go for it. But she has the same reaction to the pizza man.
To those of us who spend more time with her, it is sad, and a little funny sometimes, and I have to say, a little confusing. For the most part, she’s a tough chick. This is the only part of her life that seems to be difficult for her. She sleeps well, she eats well, she plays well- alone or with others. She just doesn’t like to say goodbye.
Interestingly enough, Lily only has trouble when other people are leaving her. If she’s the one leaving, it’s “bye-bye!” with a smile and a wave. She loves bye-bye. But if Daddy puts his coat on to go to the grocery store, you can bet she’s going to try to put her coat on too. It’s easy to be the one leaving. It’s hard to be the one left behind. And it makes me wonder. Is she that afraid people will never come back? Does she really connect to people that instantly?
But maybe she is. And maybe she does.
I am, unfortunately, in a world where people come and go. I don’t work in an office where people retire with a gold watch after forty years. I don’t live in a town where people are born and raised. Where they stay to raise their families. Where they’re buried next to their parents. (Well, OK. Technically I totally live in a town like that. But I am not yet fully-acclimated, and I don’t know that I’ll ever feel like I’m not a New Yorker in some sense.) I work in a field in which people do one show together. They spend all of their time together for six weeks. They share everything and feel like best friends. And then they go away. Maybe they’ll stay in touch, maybe they won’t. And that part of it just kills me. It’s part of why we started our theatre company- to provide a greater sense of community in a field that can be so cold. In a city where people live for months, or years, or a lifetime, but never know how long they‘ll be there, really. Not for sure.
So maybe it’s not that Lily is too young to understand people are probably coming back. Maybe she’s really got it all figured out, and she’s just too young to know she shouldn’t be so honest.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
When an Apple a Day Isn't Enough
We, the uninsured, are tired of being judged. Let me just put that right out there. We know protecting our health is important. We know we need to take care of things “just in case.” I mean, my book starts with getting health insurance. It’s important. We get it. We like peace of mind as much as the next guy.
We’re also tired of not being covered when we have medical expenses. We enjoy being healthy and going to the doctor.
And we are looking forward to Obamacare and whatever benefits it may bring.
But RIGHT NOW, for ALL DIFFERENT REALLY GOOD REASONS, we are not insured.
Someday we’ll have healthcare. In the meantime, I have a possible solution. And I’m not even being snarky. It’s a real-live, honest-to-goodness solution, and I meant to share it last time I went, and I forgot. My apologies.
Uninsured friends- do you know about the Ryan-Chelsea Clinton Clinic? It might be literally saving my life today.
I found out about the Ryan Clinic a few months ago from a friend. I have thyroid disease. This MUST be treated. My prescription was running out. I didn’t know what to do. A friend of said friend had mentioned the clinic to her before, but it seemed too good to be true. But it’s not. It’s a real place.
I registered in May and got an appointment for a few days later. I was seen right on time. The doctor was really kind. And then I went around the corner and filled my prescription. For $7. My cost for the visit was $125. This is only because I am “out of borough.” Manhattan residents pay based on a sliding scale. The guy next to me today had a co-pay of $3.
But it’s my experience today that I most want to share.
I realized about a week ago that I was running out of my medication, and I knew I didn’t have any refills. I’m headed to Ohio tomorrow, so I called to get an appointment at the clinic. No such luck- the next available appointment was on January 27. I explained to the nice lady on the phone (she really was a nice lady) that I would be in the hospital by then. She suggested I try a walk-in. OK then. Sounds like a plan.
I sent my friend Lindsay a text asking her to watch Lily today so I could go. (Lindsay has saved me in many, MANY of these situations. She is Lily’s regular babysitter, but is also a friend and will lend a hand when needed. So publicly- thanks for that.) Off I went on the Metro-North. I arrived at the clinic around 11:00 and was told at the check-in desk that all of the walk-ins were gone for the day.
Naturally, I started to cry.
“Is it an emergency?” The guys asked.
“It is, actually,” I answered quite truthfully. My thyroid condition is well-managed and totally under control. But left untreated… well, no one wants that.
“It’s OK. Just sign in and talk to the nurse,” he said, smiling. Seriously. Smiling.
So I sat down, and I waited. I waited maybe- MAYBE- twenty minutes before a nurse called my name, took me into a room, asked me why I was there, and immediately closed the door when I started crying. (there’s a lot of crying in this story.)
I told her I tried to make an appointment. I knew I should have an appointment. And I couldn’t get there any earlier because I needed to have a babysitter, and I just really really needed my medication and-
A few clicks on the computer and a short phone call later and she had an appointment for me with a doctor who was ahead of schedule for the day. No judgment. She just… fixed it.
I was sitting in front of that doctor about fifteen minutes later.
“So, what brings you in today?”
“Well, first of all, I really need my thyroid medication refilled.”
“OK. I can do that.” Clicking on the computer, pulling up my chart…. And then… “And second? You said ‘first of all.’ So what else?”
Oh, look. I’m crying again.
I told her that I’d struggled with depression for a long time. That I’ve been off of medication for about a year and I’m realizing that’s probably not a great long-term plan. That I was in therapy forever, I have the skills, I get it, but only if my chemicals are balanced. Which… they are not, currently.
Very, very calmly, she started to ask me some questions. About my life, whether I have anxiety, that kind of thing. I told her I hadn’t had anxiety before, but that I started to have it pretty badly when I went from being a college professor to staying home with my daughter.
“Ah. So you lost your job.”
“No. It was a choice.”
“Oh!” she smiled. Because this is a legitimate choice, and she understands that. “And do you have a partner?”
“Yes, my husband.”
“And you can’t get health insurance through his job?”
“No. We can’t.”
“He’s an artist?”
“Ha! Yes! Yes he is! We both are!” And the thing is, she wasn’t saying it in an “oh, I see, you guys are dead-beat parents who don’t know how to take care of things” kind of way. (yes, we’ve gotten this attitude.) It was only “oh, I see. You guys are legitimately in a field which often does not provide health insurance.”
And THAT makes all the difference.
I left the clinic with two prescriptions ($27), two future appointments, and a renewed sense of hope. Please, check it out my friends. It’s open to anyone (I don’t even live in the State of NY, let alone the city…) and it’s a really solid option for us until we get this figured out. Or the government does. Either way. Stay healthy out there.
We’re also tired of not being covered when we have medical expenses. We enjoy being healthy and going to the doctor.
And we are looking forward to Obamacare and whatever benefits it may bring.
But RIGHT NOW, for ALL DIFFERENT REALLY GOOD REASONS, we are not insured.
Someday we’ll have healthcare. In the meantime, I have a possible solution. And I’m not even being snarky. It’s a real-live, honest-to-goodness solution, and I meant to share it last time I went, and I forgot. My apologies.
Uninsured friends- do you know about the Ryan-Chelsea Clinton Clinic? It might be literally saving my life today.
I found out about the Ryan Clinic a few months ago from a friend. I have thyroid disease. This MUST be treated. My prescription was running out. I didn’t know what to do. A friend of said friend had mentioned the clinic to her before, but it seemed too good to be true. But it’s not. It’s a real place.
I registered in May and got an appointment for a few days later. I was seen right on time. The doctor was really kind. And then I went around the corner and filled my prescription. For $7. My cost for the visit was $125. This is only because I am “out of borough.” Manhattan residents pay based on a sliding scale. The guy next to me today had a co-pay of $3.
But it’s my experience today that I most want to share.
I realized about a week ago that I was running out of my medication, and I knew I didn’t have any refills. I’m headed to Ohio tomorrow, so I called to get an appointment at the clinic. No such luck- the next available appointment was on January 27. I explained to the nice lady on the phone (she really was a nice lady) that I would be in the hospital by then. She suggested I try a walk-in. OK then. Sounds like a plan.
I sent my friend Lindsay a text asking her to watch Lily today so I could go. (Lindsay has saved me in many, MANY of these situations. She is Lily’s regular babysitter, but is also a friend and will lend a hand when needed. So publicly- thanks for that.) Off I went on the Metro-North. I arrived at the clinic around 11:00 and was told at the check-in desk that all of the walk-ins were gone for the day.
Naturally, I started to cry.
“Is it an emergency?” The guys asked.
“It is, actually,” I answered quite truthfully. My thyroid condition is well-managed and totally under control. But left untreated… well, no one wants that.
“It’s OK. Just sign in and talk to the nurse,” he said, smiling. Seriously. Smiling.
So I sat down, and I waited. I waited maybe- MAYBE- twenty minutes before a nurse called my name, took me into a room, asked me why I was there, and immediately closed the door when I started crying. (there’s a lot of crying in this story.)
I told her I tried to make an appointment. I knew I should have an appointment. And I couldn’t get there any earlier because I needed to have a babysitter, and I just really really needed my medication and-
A few clicks on the computer and a short phone call later and she had an appointment for me with a doctor who was ahead of schedule for the day. No judgment. She just… fixed it.
I was sitting in front of that doctor about fifteen minutes later.
“So, what brings you in today?”
“Well, first of all, I really need my thyroid medication refilled.”
“OK. I can do that.” Clicking on the computer, pulling up my chart…. And then… “And second? You said ‘first of all.’ So what else?”
Oh, look. I’m crying again.
I told her that I’d struggled with depression for a long time. That I’ve been off of medication for about a year and I’m realizing that’s probably not a great long-term plan. That I was in therapy forever, I have the skills, I get it, but only if my chemicals are balanced. Which… they are not, currently.
Very, very calmly, she started to ask me some questions. About my life, whether I have anxiety, that kind of thing. I told her I hadn’t had anxiety before, but that I started to have it pretty badly when I went from being a college professor to staying home with my daughter.
“Ah. So you lost your job.”
“No. It was a choice.”
“Oh!” she smiled. Because this is a legitimate choice, and she understands that. “And do you have a partner?”
“Yes, my husband.”
“And you can’t get health insurance through his job?”
“No. We can’t.”
“He’s an artist?”
“Ha! Yes! Yes he is! We both are!” And the thing is, she wasn’t saying it in an “oh, I see, you guys are dead-beat parents who don’t know how to take care of things” kind of way. (yes, we’ve gotten this attitude.) It was only “oh, I see. You guys are legitimately in a field which often does not provide health insurance.”
And THAT makes all the difference.
I left the clinic with two prescriptions ($27), two future appointments, and a renewed sense of hope. Please, check it out my friends. It’s open to anyone (I don’t even live in the State of NY, let alone the city…) and it’s a really solid option for us until we get this figured out. Or the government does. Either way. Stay healthy out there.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
All I Really Need to Know...
... I learned from ignoring the chaos in everything but the kitchen sink.
Hmmm. That might not be how that saying goes.
But it's how I'm feeling today.
I've been keeping that sink shiny for a few days. And here's what I'm learning so far.
*Clean can spread just like dirty does. My clean has spread out across the counter, over the refrigerator (inside and out) and wrapped around to include the stove. But I keep going back to that sink as a home base. Which brings me to...
*It matters that it's the kitchen sink. This is not random. I didn't get that before. I can't do the dishes if the sink isn't clean. And if I'm going to clean the kitchen, I'm obviously going to do some dishes. And it feels silly to spend money on groceries and put them into a cluttered, dirty refrigerator. I won't be able to see what I have. And in order to clean out the refrigerator, I'll be... washing some dishes.
*Baby steps are smaller than I thought. I am an accomplished woman. I'm highly educated. I look at my CV, and I'm impressed with myself. I am often a leader among women, and sometimes among men if they can get over themselves for two seconds. But "jump in wherever you are" doesn't mean what I thought it meant. I always interpreted it as "start today doing the routines you've already established for yourself." Which is fine. If I am healthy. But when I'm not, those routines are far too overwhelming, and I just give up. It's not "jump in where the routines are." It's "jump in where YOU are." And where I am is, frankly, dealing with a chronic disease that happens to be flaring up right now. I can't look at a day's-worth of routines. But I can look at the top shelf of the refrigerator. And after that, I might be able to look at the next shelf. And if I can't, I'll do it tomorrow and celebrate that really clean top shelf.
*Baby steps lead to more baby steps. I'll probably be able to look at that next shelf. Because the one thing I need in dealing with depression is to feel good about myself. In the past few days, I've looked at a few career things that I've been ignoring for a while. (Obviously I am ready to take the performing arts education world by storm, as I have a clean sink. I'm thinking of adding THAT to my CV.) And of course, dealing with things in my career, a place where I've had success... makes me feel better about myself. And just like that, another refrigerator shelf is clean.
*Sometimes I need to put the blinders on. I'm writing all of this from a living room that is an absolute disaster. Anyone with a toddler knows that this can happen pretty quickly, but it's been like this for days. If I were at my healthiest, I would jump in and get it done. But that's not where I am this week. Instead, I need to remind myself that the clean has spread. And eventually, it will spread to the living room. And I need to be nice to myself, and celebrate the victories, no matter how small.
*I have learned these lessons over and over, and will have to learn them again in the future. That's why it's called chronic. It keeps happening. And I need to be patient about that.
Reminding you, once again, that these are Flylady's ideas. www.flylady.net :)
Hmmm. That might not be how that saying goes.
But it's how I'm feeling today.
I've been keeping that sink shiny for a few days. And here's what I'm learning so far.
*Clean can spread just like dirty does. My clean has spread out across the counter, over the refrigerator (inside and out) and wrapped around to include the stove. But I keep going back to that sink as a home base. Which brings me to...
*It matters that it's the kitchen sink. This is not random. I didn't get that before. I can't do the dishes if the sink isn't clean. And if I'm going to clean the kitchen, I'm obviously going to do some dishes. And it feels silly to spend money on groceries and put them into a cluttered, dirty refrigerator. I won't be able to see what I have. And in order to clean out the refrigerator, I'll be... washing some dishes.
*Baby steps are smaller than I thought. I am an accomplished woman. I'm highly educated. I look at my CV, and I'm impressed with myself. I am often a leader among women, and sometimes among men if they can get over themselves for two seconds. But "jump in wherever you are" doesn't mean what I thought it meant. I always interpreted it as "start today doing the routines you've already established for yourself." Which is fine. If I am healthy. But when I'm not, those routines are far too overwhelming, and I just give up. It's not "jump in where the routines are." It's "jump in where YOU are." And where I am is, frankly, dealing with a chronic disease that happens to be flaring up right now. I can't look at a day's-worth of routines. But I can look at the top shelf of the refrigerator. And after that, I might be able to look at the next shelf. And if I can't, I'll do it tomorrow and celebrate that really clean top shelf.
*Baby steps lead to more baby steps. I'll probably be able to look at that next shelf. Because the one thing I need in dealing with depression is to feel good about myself. In the past few days, I've looked at a few career things that I've been ignoring for a while. (Obviously I am ready to take the performing arts education world by storm, as I have a clean sink. I'm thinking of adding THAT to my CV.) And of course, dealing with things in my career, a place where I've had success... makes me feel better about myself. And just like that, another refrigerator shelf is clean.
*Sometimes I need to put the blinders on. I'm writing all of this from a living room that is an absolute disaster. Anyone with a toddler knows that this can happen pretty quickly, but it's been like this for days. If I were at my healthiest, I would jump in and get it done. But that's not where I am this week. Instead, I need to remind myself that the clean has spread. And eventually, it will spread to the living room. And I need to be nice to myself, and celebrate the victories, no matter how small.
*I have learned these lessons over and over, and will have to learn them again in the future. That's why it's called chronic. It keeps happening. And I need to be patient about that.
Reminding you, once again, that these are Flylady's ideas. www.flylady.net :)
Sunday, January 16, 2011
The Shiny Sink Strikes- well, shines- Again
I started following Flylady several years ago. And, as my last post stated, her methods often work for me. But her very first step- the Shiny Sink- I just... didn't get it. My apartment (and my life, or so it feels) is such a mess. Why in the world would I care if my kitchen sink shines?
And then yesterday, I was having another one of my... difficult times. For reasons I fully understand but don't need to disclose, my depression has gotten quite bad of late. It was bad enough that Ryan made plans for us to visit friends in Long Island just so I could get out. But there were hours before we left, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Ryan needed to take a nap while Lily slept, as he had been doing most of the child-rearing for a few days. And I started to get really nervous that I was going to have to entertain myself for a few minutes while he slept. I didn't want to watch TV, I didn't want to talk to anyone, I had already taken a shower, I just... didn't know what to do.
And that's when I thought of the Shiny Sink. Flylady has never really steered me wrong. I could give it a try, I suppose. So I looked up the Shiny Sink instructions. Step One, take the dishes out of the sink. You know what? I can handle that. I can take the dishes out of the sink.
And so I did.
And I'm also capable of filling the sink with hot water and adding some bleach.
And so I did.
After that it was just a matter of waiting an hour. And the hour was a little easier since Lily woke up and needed a bath.
And the last steps were easy. And they make the sink look really really shiny as promised.
And so we left to visit our friends, and I knew I had done something with my day. Something tiny. But something.
My shiny sink was calling me today. I wasn't feeling much better, and Lily and Ryan were cuddling on the couch watching Fraggle Rock. I wanted to make the cleanliness spread a little. So I unloaded the dishwasher. (although I have no idea who loaded it and ran it. It certainly wasn't me.) And then I took a few dishes, rinsed them, and put them into the dishwasher. And I did it again. And before long, I had six square inches of empty counter space. I was so proud of it that I sprayed it with cleaner and wiped it down.
And now, I have six square inches of clean, next to my shiny sink.
And this might seem like the most boring, tedious blog ever. But the truth is that it was really hard for me to do anything on my own. And emptying the dishwasher was a victory. And so was rinsing those dishes.
And THAT is why Flylady encourages people to shine their sinks. I sort of kind of get it now. And encourage you to shine YOUR sink. And check out Flylady at her website.
www.flylady.net
And then yesterday, I was having another one of my... difficult times. For reasons I fully understand but don't need to disclose, my depression has gotten quite bad of late. It was bad enough that Ryan made plans for us to visit friends in Long Island just so I could get out. But there were hours before we left, and I didn't know what to do with myself. Ryan needed to take a nap while Lily slept, as he had been doing most of the child-rearing for a few days. And I started to get really nervous that I was going to have to entertain myself for a few minutes while he slept. I didn't want to watch TV, I didn't want to talk to anyone, I had already taken a shower, I just... didn't know what to do.
And that's when I thought of the Shiny Sink. Flylady has never really steered me wrong. I could give it a try, I suppose. So I looked up the Shiny Sink instructions. Step One, take the dishes out of the sink. You know what? I can handle that. I can take the dishes out of the sink.
And so I did.
And I'm also capable of filling the sink with hot water and adding some bleach.
And so I did.
After that it was just a matter of waiting an hour. And the hour was a little easier since Lily woke up and needed a bath.
And the last steps were easy. And they make the sink look really really shiny as promised.
And so we left to visit our friends, and I knew I had done something with my day. Something tiny. But something.
My shiny sink was calling me today. I wasn't feeling much better, and Lily and Ryan were cuddling on the couch watching Fraggle Rock. I wanted to make the cleanliness spread a little. So I unloaded the dishwasher. (although I have no idea who loaded it and ran it. It certainly wasn't me.) And then I took a few dishes, rinsed them, and put them into the dishwasher. And I did it again. And before long, I had six square inches of empty counter space. I was so proud of it that I sprayed it with cleaner and wiped it down.
And now, I have six square inches of clean, next to my shiny sink.
And this might seem like the most boring, tedious blog ever. But the truth is that it was really hard for me to do anything on my own. And emptying the dishwasher was a victory. And so was rinsing those dishes.
And THAT is why Flylady encourages people to shine their sinks. I sort of kind of get it now. And encourage you to shine YOUR sink. And check out Flylady at her website.
www.flylady.net
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