The last couple of weeks have brought me the kind of stress that I can’t write about on the fly. It would make me too vulnerable somehow. A couple of decisions have been in the balance for me.
The first thing isn’t so much a decision but it relates to Paolo having Lyme disease. Will he die suddenly? Will he recover suddenly? Enquiring minds want to know. Thanks to talking about his sickness, I have heard from a lot of people who were afflicted with Lyme and they’ve shared a lot of reassurances of likely recovery. It’s not a scientific poll, or anything I can dictate closely, but it’s comforting all the same.
The major decision is whether or not to attend my brother-in-law Noah’s wedding to Shaida. Nuptials are taking place in Salt Lake City, Utah next weekend and we were hard-pressed to figure out a way to attend from the start. (Noah used to snowboard professionally… I found some interesting clips of him talking through a couple of snowboard tricks to video of same.) In the picture here you can see Noah circa 1996 riding a board I illustrated, although the snowboard company that made it hacked my original illustration to pieces. Anyway it’s still cool to reminisce.
Making matters complicated: 1) We have three children, each of whom would need their own airplane seat if we were to fly, and there are no child discounts. 2) Driving would be insane; River would have to take a month off work just to manage a decent visit, and it wouldn’t save us any money what with all the meals and overnights we’d need on the way to and from. 3) We’ve never been out to visit Noah in all the nearly-ten-years he’s been out west. 4) Noah’s family isn’t all that big and each member who doesn’t attend the wedding counts for something like ten or 20 percent of family representation! 5) River and Noah are close and this wedding is a huge deal for the family, not to be missed if possible. 6) Noah and Shaida have been working on getting married for a really, really long time so it’s kind of a victory. 7) Paolo just got Lyme disease. 8) We’re broke, single-income, yadda.
After a lot of arguing, hemming, hawing, more arguing, resigning selves to decisions, getting excited about other decisions, spending money on two plane tickets, arranging child care with two sets of grandparents, and many tears shed over the confusion of the whole thing, River’s going without me. I am relieved not to have shared here the ugly underbelly of the process, but you get a glimpse. The kids will still visit at least one set of grandparents, but for a curtailed period of time, and maybe the other set if they’re up for it.
Paolo needs meds twice a day and he’s supposed to wear an eye patch at night to protect his cornea. He’s also somewhat beastly personality-wise. When we go out in public I have to keep close watch, especially at the pond, where he has a tendency to find slightly older, tougher boys and begin to either splash, punch, or whack them over the head with swimming noodles. Alternatively, he will simply try to drown his younger brother—playfully, of course. Having tired of yelling at him from up the shore, I realized it was much easier to pull up a chair to the water’s edge and merely hover over him, my disciplinary prey.
During the last week or two I have been asking nearly everyone I know (whether outright or by implication) what they think of my situation, my dilemma, my quandary. What would they do in my shoes? I got really interesting responses. My mother chimed in to let me know that her dad, my Grandy, said rather strongly that he felt I should stay home with the kids, and she noted that he doesn’t often chime in on matters like this. So it means something. And to be told by other friends “I would stay home if I were you,” or, “I don’t mean to cause a rift in your marriage, but…” was sort of intriguing for me, as an observer. Unfortunately I had to come around and make a decision, though.
What felt best—knowing that not going to Utah was going to disappoint just about everyone on my husband’s side of the family, including him, and including myself—was to “experiment” with the idea of a decision, just try it on, see what it felt like for a couple of days. For a while I experimented with the idea of going. I felt sick, horrible, and couldn’t sleep well; I was irritated, near hysterical, I was panicked and crazed and couldn’t face making lunch much less packing a bag or arranging details of what the kids needed that day. Later, after sleeping on the idea before speaking of it, and after much of my informal (and nearly secretive) polling, I decided to experiment with the idea of not going. It just fit like a glove. It was weird.
Ordinarily a traveler and adventurer, I have felt more and more like a home-body since having children. It is only years later that I feel at all interested in traveling again… knowing that I need somewhere else for my children to go. I find myself facing the chasm of what to do: take off and be somewhere unfamiliar for a spell, or stay home and make sure my kids are alright? The mother instinct tends to win out, and I find that meeting the kids’ needs is a lot more complicated than it looks at first glance. Especially if their health isn’t super. I’ve been lucky so far in that they are hearty and hale. Still I hover nearby lest something should happen. Only a year ago we experimented for the first time sending the children elsewhere for an overnight. Usually it is not my style. But the urge to travel, get away, see other places is also strong in me.
Not this time. Utah will wait. And, as a friend noted, Noah and Shaida will not be any less married for my absence. I wish them the best.