Hey 19

Today's post is dedicated to the gentle giant in our family, Houlder, who turned 19 on May 31st.  He spent his day at the Inn with us visiting Frazer and sharing a very small bed with Porter.  He also graduated from the Collegiate School on Friday, June 6, 2014. 

On May 30th, Will and Houlder drove up to the Inn arriving around 10pm -- just after our return for the Nats game about which I previously posted.  Porter was over the moon showing the off the Inn and chattering endlessly.  After being away from Houlder a couple of weeks, it was easy to notice the man he has become.  From the attachment to his iphone to receive all birthday wishes to his slightly less than enthusiastic responses to Porter, Will and I chatted about how he continues to improve as his "normal" young adult behavior begins to show through.  It is pleasant to see.

Birthday breakfast was made in the community kitchen by Porter with love.  We will leave it there as Houlder gifted Porter by eating a few.

We visited Frazer for a bit and hit the movies to see the new X-man movie.  Eh, but we toured downtown Bethesda, visited famous Georgetown Cupcakes to get some treats, and hit the bookstore for a few "gifts."  More visits with Frazer, dinner, games, the day ended with people hitting the hay by 10pm.  Not typical for 19, but as far I figure, we rarely do typical.

The next morning William and Houlder left early to collect Dell from St. James.  The three men began their man-summer until Porter and I came home the 5th for graduation festivities.

A better weekend could not have been scripted.  Lovely mild, sunny weather allowed for a comfortable and gorgeous day.  Will's parents joined us.  It was just great to see these kids we have watched for 13 years.  And, for us, it was such a special moment.  Two years ago, when we returned from Mayo, we could not allow ourselves to think Houlder would be able to make up lost work and graduate with his class.  Hurrah for him!  No tears at this time as we are tickled and delighted.  It is such a great victory for Houlder's tenacity.

Houlder will spend the remainder of his summer coaching swimming for the Country Club of Virginia -- a Southampton rival.  He has a bench to finish from his senior project which will be in our kitchen when the second one is completed.  He has friends to spend time at the beach.  And, he has Kenyon waiting.  He was delighted to tell me he had received his kenyon.edu email address and update his FB photo to a picture of Middle Path.  It feels like his life is commencing.

William and I are grateful for his persistence and kindness.  It feels like his life is front of him.  Who would have thought two years ago?  Hey 19

Photos are not uploading.  Sorry.

The Nats

Another great gift of the Children's Inn -- club seats at a Nats game Friday, May 30, 2014.  A kind donor had shared awesome seats.  Off Porter and I went after visiting with Frazer.  Porter had his first Metro ride and went to his first major league baseball game.  Peanuts, sodas, fries -- he saw a few homers and the Nats beat the Rangers.  It was a great night capped off by Will and Houlder arriving about an hour after we got back.

Porter's first Metro ride -- little unsure of at first.

View from the club section.

Necklace bling -- made from a baseball.

Attempt of selfie at game.

Beautiful stadium and night.

New Room

Houlder about 3 months old

Almost 19 years, I had this delicious baby boy.  He rarely cried.  He fooled William and I into believing we were good parents.  We had the touch.  He slept which we somehow believed we made happen.  He sang himself awake in the crib, in another room, while we listened to his tunes.

One of the best gifts of parenting is the dismantling factor of smug righteousness.  Having children who did not follow the scrip or our lead barreled down our pride and produced plentiful humble pie which comes without a direction manual.

Each subsequent child provided glimpses of knowing and unknowing what the heck we were doing.  We reminded ourselves that they were all alive, fed, housed, and clothed.  Our expectations expanded to reality -- not Lifetime movie fluff.  We managed each kid and scrambled.  I went from organized and early to perennially late and scattered.   I came across as flaky to those just meeting me; during the unctuous stage of my life, I would have cared. Now, I just hope my shirt is clean and I have everything I am supposed to have.

Dell about 15 months

Dell about 18 months with Max Bunster

Frazer 2 weeks with Grandpa Sid

With Frazer, there has been mystery, quirkiness and joy.  A much longed for soul after three miscarriages, his dramatic arrival at the beginning of Y2K was chaos.  His family has embraced this chaos, guided it and enjoyed him.  We had no clue, but we had love.

And, often, we worried for him.

Most notably Frazer is petite.  He looks like an 8-9 year old.  That size has allowed us to perhaps ignore things that were beyond quirky.  The past two years his friendships slipped away.  He was enraptured more and more in a world he only he knew.   

Frazer at 5 in preschool

Monday, he handled his inpatient status happily.  He has his own room with bathroom.  As as sibling  who has always shared, this is an improvement of some nature.  When Porter and I left that night after a bedtime reading, we were sad.

Yesterday when Porter and I went to spend time with him, Frazer asked us to go.  He was otherwise engaged alone with his mind and a show.

We left respecting his request. Porter and I both had those achy pits that make you want to barf or cry or zone out.  I am still unfolding my emotions.  Essentially this writing is for me.  I can share some of Frazer and some of what we are learning, but I need a place to put my voice.  To hold my fears and gratitude and I hope some laughter and lightness.

Houlder 10, Porter 7 months

My 25th reunion from college is this weekend.  I opted not to go even though I have spent past ten months thinking about it.  My friends are gathering in one of my most favorite places on earth to celebrate and embrace our youth.  It feels lonely, but this is my choice.  I can't shake off this responsibility.  A babysitter cannot be mom.  Hopefully I will not be asked to leave again.

But if so, I will come back to my room and watch my reunion unfold on Facebook.  I am not sure if that is great thing or something for which I should be embarrassed.  It is honest.

Admission -- an announcement

Spring is the season of admissions in the life of a senior in high school.  There are admissions into college, technical school, or  work.  Mostly, in our lives, there has been discussion and Facebook likes of where friends and family friends are heading in the fall for college.  For Houlder, this has been a pleasant and fun time with his admission into Kenyon since December as an Early Decision candidate. 

I studied Latin as a means of improving my SAT scores and thereby increasing my chances of admission into a "good"college.  It was not until 10th grade that I got the chance to study Latin.  The logic of the language raised my GPA as Latin came easily to me, and it made sense of so many of the "exceptions" in English grammar.   But, I am not sure it did much to boost my SATs because the link between the root and its current meaning were not always apparent to me.

Take a word like admission. 

Ad = to + mittere = to send or let go.  To me, to send to or to let go to is a simple translation. 

The first result of a google search of the word admission is the Tina Fey movie about getting into an Ivy with subsequent hits on stories about the intense competition to be admitted into a college.  But, pry deeper into a hardbound Webster or a web dictionary; admission's first definition is a statement acknowledging the truth. 

Telling the truth?  How did to send to or to let go to become to acknowledge a past of lies or misinformation?  Hence my trouble with SAT.

The second definition of a letting into a place, organization or institution seems easier to trace back to its roots. 

Eliminating higher education from the equation, where are places people are admitted?  Exclusive clubs, memberships in to associations based on dues, and the hospital come to mind. 

People are also admitted into studies so that scientists, researchers, and doctors can continue to further define, decode, and hopefully heal the human body and mind.  Maybe they even uncover the Truth.

In an effort to keep our friends and family informed and to hopefully remove stigmas for mental health, Frazer and I are moving to NIH in Bethesda, MD for a few months.  Frazer has been admitted into a 23 year long study exploring Childhood Onset Schizophrenia.  Frazer approves and wants me to blog about this because he does not have the burden of socially imposed shame. 

For now, if you have the time, please watch this 13 minute Ted Talk from the Head of National Institute of Mental Health at NIH.  In it, he explains how medicine and science have reduced mortality in many areas with the exception of mental health, and he mentions a study by Dr. Rapport regarding COS (Childhood Onset Schizophrenia).  This study is the one Frazer has gained admission.

It is the season for admission, graduations and commencements.  We begin.

"Who Killed the Electric Car."

When trying to find an age appropriate movie for kids ranging in age at the time of 5-15, I thought I had found a winner in Who Killed the Electric Car.  Selected as the older boys were interested in alternative energy, and Porter had just built a solar power car, I was proud of my selection.   Will and I were going out leaving pizza and the video from the library.

That darn electric car seemed benign.

However, I was foolish.  Knowing Porter would be in tears anytime Sarah McLachan's Animal Cruelty video came on, maybe William and I should have been more aware the fourth time around the block. 

We were not smarter.  That darn electric car was not benign.

Houlder called us after Porter had been crying for 45 minutes; Porter was inconsolable that people did not save the electric cars and just were wrecking them.  Houlder had to turn of the video.

Maybe this extreme reaction should have been harbinger of Porter's sensitivity or fears.  But, this kid was independent and doing his own thing.  Putting the two together was not immediate.

Again, fourth time around.  The charm escapes us.

By kindergarten, the ugly little fear monster jumped out by the third week of school.  Two weeks later at carpool, he threw himself in front of my minivan to stop me from leaving.  Torn between gratitude for his life and killing him for scaring me, I began a life of walking him in every morning.

Finding a prompt or rational explanation felt pointless as there was none.

First grade, same thing.  Sometimes worse.  By the spring we knew the experience of Houlder's and Frazer's health issues were weighing on his sweet mind despite our best attempts.  Porter went to school after Houlder's first trip home form Mayo telling his classmates that his brother was not going to die.

Okay, he was learning lots of fear management not a lot of school.  By repeating 1st grade, we thought we would build him up, and it did.

Sort of.

Second grade rolls around.  Teacher is awesome.  First three weeks awesome.

Bam!  Tears!

Bam! Houlder cannot get him out of the car. 

A month earlier, he unintentionally had observed a three day fast when Dell left for boarding school because Porter had not been able to discern the difference between his nerves and his hunger.  Complex emotions like longing and sadness have such similar physiological responses.

Taking Porter out of Collegiate made sense except he loved Collegiate.  Yep.  Yes.  Paradox.  I get it.  He is 8.  How much rational thinking can there be?

After a talking with his teacher, we did what we gleaned best -- not easiest -- and brought him home.  Of course the stinker loves the academic part of our day and wants to head to Collegiate for lunch and recess. 

He is easy to teach.  Responsive.  Learning.  Improving.  Wants a blow torch for his birthday to bend metal -- so super sensitive new age is not his thing.  He has been working with someone to learn strategies to help him when he is anxious.  These strategies are helping as I watched Porter manage his sadness when we dropped Dell back at school after a long weekend.  Yes, there were tears, but there was deep breathing and understanding that his tummy was not going to throw up.

Parenting is mysterious. 


Porter will find his rhythm and manage his fears.  For now, we are giving him a chance to learn how.  I will manage too.  Frazer enjoys the company as do the dogs and cats.

Onward.

Home again!

Dell and Kate

Houlder  & some infra-screen

After our weekend of reading, exploring a little, Houlder resting, watching movies, and eating, we headed into Monday visiting the Pediatric Pain Rehabilitation Clinic on another campus of Mayo.  During an intake we learned that the three week program basically has a 100% success rate of getting kids with POTS up and going again.  Not at full speed but the intake doctor spoke of Houlder being able to swim again even this summer and for school again.  So, we head back most likely the end of April into May for this program.  Family participates four hours a day and he works 8 hours a day.  Weekends off.  

It is the only facility in the world which does this.

Thank you universe!

After this visit, we headed back to the hotel and hung out for a bit.  Then, we headed for the MRIs.  He was in the tube for about 2 hours getting three different types of images.  

Monday evening we had dinner at Mac's a local's Greek restaurant.  Yummy food and even more yummy milkshakes.  We came back to room and watched Jack and Jill not Adam Sandler's greatest movie but we laughed which is always good.

Tuesday was relatively free  until we met with neurosurgeon and neurologist.  Houlder rode the bike 11 minutes.  He has a very controlled exercise schedule to build his strength without the fall out of over straining his muscles.  I hit the pool and hot tub.  

Neurosurgeon does not recommend surgery at this time which is exactly what we wanted to hear!  Yippee!  The MRI showed us that his cerebral spinal fluid is flowing despite the low hanging cerebral tonsils.  The visit was only five minutes, but it more than answered our questions and showed us what we needed to see.  If the treatment is unsuccessful and he is still suffering with headache and dizziness, then we will revisit this anomaly.

This was Minnesota in March.

The only bummer was that Houlder felt rotten as we left and agitated.  One of nurses in POTS clinic gave him some relaxation CDs to help with the pain.  We headed back to the room and for two hours he listened, seemed to calm down, and settled without sleeping.  Good to know all that swim training is helping him. I used the time to start planning SRA social events for the spring and summer.  Glad to have that time to think and plan.

"I look through a half-opened door into the future full of interest,intriguing beyond my powers to describe."  William Mayo stained glass within hospital

Mayo Clinic

More sculpture which is everywhere around Mayo

When we headed to neurologist, I also used the time to schedule a visit for Frazer.  I am trying to coordinate it when Houlder returns.  For Frazer has recently learned that he has PANDAS to add to his little laundry list.  But, I feel confident getting him here will help guide and heal Frazer.  The neurologist supported the neurosurgeon's view and went over a few other things including the rehab.  He invited Houlder to come visit him when he is back.

When we headed back to room, Houlder still felt rough and wanted to listen to more of the CDs.  The weather was so mild all the the local establishments were putting out chairs and tables and umbrellas.  I wanted to hang outside.  Up he went and down I sat on this sofa in front of the hotel.  I played words with friends, texted friends the good news, talked to William.  A pleasant hour.  If I had only had a beer....

Heritage Gallery at Mayo; a mini museum

Will emailing, "Could this be the trim?"

We had dinner for the 4th time at the best restaurant we have found, Pescara, in our hotel.  The portions are huge, and we have eaten leftovers for lunch.  Last night we shared everything.  We talked.  Houlder eyed the couple next to us as they were over the top.  Of course, he was not subtle and needing a few reining-ins.  We ended the evening looking forward to coming home, talking to Porter, wishing my father-in-law happy birthday, and talking to my mother.  

We saw at least five different grand pianos.  This is one of the main lobbies.  People can play whenever.  Or sing.

We are mostly packed.  We have tons of booklets to bring home and the two binders I had sent in July.  A few treats for my sweet boys whom I missed and many feelings of relief and gratitude.  Friends have continued to support us and offer us such loving words.  They have had my kids over, found niches where they can feel good and be distracted by our absence, and reached out to reassure me.

Fruit ninja while we wait for neurologist.

'this one?"

William again emailing about the trim.

William has been a rock star.  Handling work, renovations, three kids, baseball, feeding, shopping, homeschooling, the dogs, the cats, life.  I am fortunate.  This path is not for the faint of heart, and we trod it.  Together.  Tired.  Trying to laugh.  Managing.  Greying.  But doing it.  These sons of mine are blessed to have such a role model in their dad.  I hope that they know that one day.

Up to pack the bags, have breakfast and head to an airport smaller than Key West's.  

To borrow from Ralph Waldo Emerson

      For each new morning with its light

      For rest and shelter of the night,

      For health and food, for love and friends,

      For everything Thy goodness sends.

Theory into Practice.

skip the light fandango

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJIVz9nYx7I

Annie Lennox always struck me as a together woman.  Annie probably would not have tripped three steps from the bottom down her own front stoop on a sunny Sunday afternoon 7 weeks ago. 

Eight plates and a screw.  Sounds like a drink.

Feeling thirsty?  Apparently I was parched.

A swift ambulance ride with such a nice paramedic who was concerned about gently taking off my Danskos.  When I told him he could cut them off, he balked as he knew they were expensive.  Haha.  Got love that.

The last 7 weeks have been a blur.  It took me about two weeks to realize how serious this leg break was.  William conveniently kept the meds coming quite regularly to keep me from trying to get up.  Lacey, my mother-in-law, managed the chaos of four kids, birthday parties, meals which were delivered, carpools, playdates, and exams.  A friend introduced me to Pinterest.com and between Houzz.com and Ziplist.com, I redecorated, renovated, bought presents, made presents, made meals by clicking on a photo icon and creating little fantasy notebooks of what my life would be like if money were no object and time were not an issue and I did not have a bum leg.  It was entertaining.  I found Hanging with Friends and had a great time getting my butt whooped around the globe.  We managed Christmas, said adios to 2011 and visited friends with NYC and New Zealand.

I griped and tried to find the the lesson or the moral, but Aesop escaped me.    William again shone brightly as Daddy superstar.  As Porter told one of our guests, "When Mommy started the leg drugs, Daddy became in charge."  Go ahead and laugh.  We did.  Will rocked and continues to be amazing.

I imagine the lesson was that we need each as we walk this earth.  Kindness matters.  Friends matter.  Calling matters.  Note cards still matter.  Facebook matters.  Family matters.  In the past I had tried to be a person who recognized when someone might need a hand or a meal or a call.  This year I really was not able to do that but generosity only works when someone receives with grace.  Grace -- we began the year and ended learning grace by receiving so many thougthful meals and words.  We remain in awe of others' capacity to reach out and help.  In awe and full of gratitude.

Thank you.
  

Resolution. Intention. Aspiration.

Flee from the concept or embrace it?

 

In looking ahead, how can we escape looking behind?

How can I adequately review our year?  

It feels dishonest to spin everything glossy and sunny to remember a rosy view for what was a begrudgingly difficult year.  It feels either Sylvia Pathian to play my misery is greater than yours or Pollyanna-ish to delight in all we've met.

We lived.  We ate heartily.  We laughed.  We cried.  We trolled the internet.  We drove.  We read.  We sat.  We waited.  We grumbled.  We visited doctors.  We danced.  We stayed at hospitals.  We went to Ocracoke.  We swam.  We cheered.  We yelled.  We raked.  We laundered.  We baked. We played soccer.  We played little league. We survived.

Stunningly, we were held by friends -- new ones and life-long.  

If you ask Porter, he will tell you two things:  1) "I don't want to eat anyone else's food," and 2) "My cats."

If you ask Houlder, he will say: 1) "I can drive for you," and 2) "POTS."

If you ask Frazer, he will be silent or offer to lego/bey blade with you.

If you ask Dell, he will think.  And, maybe he can tell you after you ask him 3-4 more times.  

If you ask Will, he will shake his head and grimace and say 1) "Can it suck anymore?" and 2) "Will our kids ever do anything to help?"

My memories vary: the strength we found in each other, the exhaustion of it all, the kindness of friends, the path of our lives determined by our health, the tender time we need to give each other, the kindness Collegiate has shared, the intensely amazing community of Southampton, the tolerance of St. Thomas for atheist acolytes and unwavering  offerings of prayers, the tolerance and patience needed to raise four boys, the generosity of homeschooling buddies always willing to let Frazer tag along, the willingness of my dad and Will's parents to help, the unexpected gift of Kenyon K80ans, the cuteness of kittens, the delight of believing in Santa and the tooth fairy, the sunsets and cocktails at Ocracoke, the willingness of neighbors to drive my kids to and from school, the support of friends, and the fortitude of my husband.

Our resolution is simple:  keep on.  Our intention is wellness.   Our aspiration is home improvement.

It has been rewarding to have an place to process our lives and an honor to have been read. 

solipsism

Frazer getting ready to swim breaststroke.

Solipsism.

What’s real? 

Do I know?

Writing this blog earnestly began as a means of documenting the work Frazer and I did together homeschooling.  It was a useful, private tool which I only shared with a few family members and friends.  When Frazer was hospitalized in January, we were blessed with caring hearts and friendly concerns.  The blog was a natural extension of how to communicate efficiently with friends. 

It morphed. 

Inspired by some other friends who blog publicly, I opened the privacy controls and posted on Facebook. 

I let go.

And I found that when I sat in the hospital room at night, thoughtful kind responses held me.  Isolated but not alone, friends from long ago and across the country and over the oceans connected electronically.  

It was difficult to grasp.

Dell's graduation, June 9, 2011

I would read my posts and cringe with the verb tense errors and spelling errors and poor proof reading.  My sentiments were released and available for consumption, and I had not had the energy or presence of mind to think longer or better or clearer.

That anyone even read the blog is a tremendous testament to my kids.

A nagging sense of creating my own private Idaho kept rising. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7t7cGwN7_0

An inner world in which I could not escape the the medical world and could no longer define the boundaries of my angst.  A world in which I would write lists of things to do and stop mid-way to care for someone or research more or lately just stare into space. 

I began a blog about solipsism.  Was I creating reality that no one else saw?

Porter mite party 2011

Dell during Frazer and Porter's fencing feista!

These months of writing and being with the mystery of what is going on with Houlder has helped me control knee-jerk responses and try to frame what we are living.  I have tried to avoid exisitential rants, pity parties and full-metal jacket scream fests.

But, is it True?

I have been wanting to write about this idea but shied away when David Brooks,’ with his crisp excellent writing and somehow radically moderate ideas, wrote about the dynamic nature of our country -- democracy and republic -- in the The Politics of Solipsism.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/06/opinion/06brooks.html

How could I even begin to discuss this grist mill when he was discussing truly  meaty and pertinent and well-crafted ideas? Seemed audacious to try.

Persistently that word would jump out at a stop light, while waiting for lab work, during swim practice, or while trying to find patience to deal with a 6 year old.  I sensed that we were living a life somehow separate.

People have been unexpectedly kind.  Unexpectedly generous .  Unexpectedly concerned.

So, why think that our experience is so singular?  Why fluctuate?  Why not ride the wave?

Fear?

Egocentricism? -- that’s what David Foster Wallace and Jonathan Franzen would say.

It feels like McCarthy’s The Road.  An isolated life, trying to get through, to manage parental love and being blind to the community around us and that’s when I know I am in too deep, too far gone to find a realistic view.  I find I have created a world in which I choose what to say and how to say it.  How infinitely selfish that enables me to be. 


The ultimate trap of the adolescent mind seeing life beyond oneself.

You can eat your mistakes

Friday night, William and I headed to St. Thomas for a crepe making class with other auction winners.  Our able and entertaining guide talked about her year in Lyon, France.  It is difficult to think about France and not think gastrinomic thoughts.  From her descriptions of the tinniest kitchen to the luscious crepe stands, we were ready to give it a go.

Houlder too loved the crepes he had in France last year.  He was bummed this winter when his head ache kept him from the day in French class he missed out on the crepes.

One of the sweet ideas that Susan shared with us is that "You can eat your mistakes."

There must be few places in life when one can say that and not be too terribly disappointed -- I mean a messy ill-presented chocolate and almond crepe remains yummy in the tummy no matter its presentation.

I just wonder how people digest medical gaffs.

Not really gaffs but quitting before the roast is cooked.

UVA's Dr. Rust has said that Houlder does not fit into the parameters of what he studies and has recommended the Mayo Clinic.

I've learned the land of 10,000 lakes has some pretty wicked mosquitoes. 

The doctor that MCV heard from is also at Mayo.  The doctor UVA recommended at Mayo has published an article the other doctor.  They have studied headache and POTS -- postdural othrostatic tarchycardia.

You see, despite our requests for cardiology int he hospital, we were told we did not need it.  But, as you can guess, Houlder has been having racing heart rates, wacky blood pressure and even newer and more fun to sit through and not freak out about -- chest squeezing.

I have shared with the doctors in the hospital that my kid is complaining about his chest squeezing.  My favorite answer, "Well he has not been active.  Maybe standing up is too much." 

An EKG after the incident shows he is fine.

Of course an EKG also said Frazer's heart was fine until the doctor using that ultra radically new technology -- the stethoscope -- heard something.  Then an echocardiogram gave the doctors the answer the EKG could not.

Not that this fact is relevant.

I aspire to avoid cyncism but cannot claim to be frustration-free.

So, if we can avoid an ER visit despite having 3 episodes of chest squeezing yesterday, we go to the cardiac surgeon on Wednesday.

I will call Mayo tomorrow.  I research what it will be like today.  I hope to see both doctors that we were referred to.

I wish that I had thought 10 week summer camps were a great idea instead of SRA because I am not sure what we will do with three other children. 

But, we do love SRA and swimming starts tomorrow.  God willing, four Hudgins boys will spend an afternoon freezing their hinneys off to see their friends and coaches and hold onto a glimmer of normal.

For strength and honor

Cause in the pool, we don't eat mistakes, people eat our bubbles.  Hope we have some doctors out there ready for snack time.

En guarde

Intense laughter, especially when shared with others, releases the bad juju.

Frazer and Porter have been taking fencing at Richmond Fencing Club the last 8 weeks.  www.richmondfencingclub.com

This opportunity was a natural fit for Frazer who has had an unusual fascination with swords for years.  He runs around the yard with the wooden sword Be made him slaying imaginary dragons and evil villains.

Yesterday, as the culmination of the first session, the kids got to fence with the silver lame which noted the kids scores.

If you are feeling a bit lowly, this would be the place to go.

Whowee!

All of us went and my father.  I have no ideas how the photos will develop (yes film folks) but from the laughter I doubt Houlder or I took I steady shot.

Porter "en guarded" and "saluted" and "lunged" and whatever else, and we cracked up.  He was great!  The intensity with which he fenced and his success had Dell, Houlder, Will and I laughing with abandon.  Truly.  That shaking your whole body so that sound does not come out.  As I turned away from the duel (match -- I don't know what you call it), I looked at my family:  Frazer waited for his turn; Houlder moved to to get a better shot of Porter huge shoulders shuddering with laughter;  Dell rolled on the floor trying to smoother his hysteria; William leaned against the wall chortling and filming with the his iphone shaking.

Frazer's turn came and all the years of running around the yard came to fruition in his trouncing of the other kid.  Sorry but not really.  He won.  We still laughed but now we looked at each other proud of Frazer and for Frazer.  Dell said, "I bet Be never thought that those swords would be so helpful."

I doubt he did but I am glad they were.

The ultimate show down of man o man was Porter verses Frazer. In unsanctioned and unofficial contests, Porter typically wins.  Today we learned that Porter can be a sport because Frazer ruled the arena!  We were all surprised that he out parried Porter.  He lunged and stabbed and won, point after point.  It was great.  Although they did share a Pirates of the Carribean moment just crossing foils with each other without any one daring to strike out but moved up and down the field clanging away.  The coach interrupted while the whole place laughed at the faux movie moment.  During the handshake and salute to end the match, Porter smiled even though he lost.  Porter was not too bummed when the victor puts his arm around him and said, "Good job, Porty.  You had some nice parries."

We have found Fraz's thing.

Today was more than a contest and display of skill.  For this briefest of moments we had an opportunity to be together without the unknown hanging over us.  We laughed, we celebrated, we were together.  It was beautiful.

Thank you my fencers for giving us the gift of joy.

Fleeting, it happened.

We shall hold it.

Amen.

Here is a link to the video of Frazer.

http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=shudg11477#p/a/u/0/gDiXFIVHzVg

gratitude

A few years back I tried to embrace an Oprahesque thing and read from this book an entry on gratitude every day and write about something I am grateful for everyday.

http://www.simpleabundance.com/gratitude_journal.html

For a while I enjoyed it, but too often I found myself wrestling with the apparently saccharine notion of the day.  Sure, I am all about Elvis Costello's "peace, love and understanding," but every day I started to argue with what I perceived as the oversimplified.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8WWp67DsTk4&feature=related

I was arguing with myself about an idea I could ignore.

This says something about me.  Perhaps nothing positive.

But, I stuck with it for a while because in my heart I believed gratitude was simple.  Something small which may not be a life changer but which makes every living more.  More alive, more free, more available. 

This year, as I contemplated the end of the year and any changes I wanted to make to improve myself, I contemplated a 365 project. 

http://makesomething365.blogspot.com/

They are sort of the rage but I liked the simpleness of trying to one thing every day that I chose to do.  I thought about blogging, I thought about gratitude journaling again -- sans agruments, I thought about mediation, photos, drawing, waking each day to a certain song, exercising, and eating well.  I wanted something that I could do every day and not the first month or two.

I decided to join some friends and do a Biggest Loser contest.  For the first 20 days, I joined some other friends, and we committed to each other online a support system to eat healthily.  It was great.  Folks would chime in when the day was rough or with recipes or what not.  I lost a few pounds and felt like I was doing something for me.  In honesty, we are still working together.  Some of us more successful than others but together which is nice.

But, then, my kids' health issues became something I had to pay attention to every day and planning my next salad or steamed shrimp seemed impossible.

They have become a 365, although I am fairly sure they already had that place in my life, and prompted me to write again -- not well or clearly -- but I am grateful for the catharsis from the writing and the ease with which I can disseminate information to our friends.

I spent most of my childhood and all my education writing.  Learning to write, learning to write better, to find a voice, to convey knowledge, to pass comps, to get into grad school, to learn about how to teach writing, to observe and assess writing, to write more, and so on. 

And, did I write letters!  Back in the day when long distance was expensive, and cell phones were huge monstrosities in movies, I wrote copious letters to every friend or family member I had.  William and I spent the first three plus years of our courtship in different cities, and we wrote letters and cards all the time.  We could not afford calling every night.  I remember being psyched when it was only $0.10 minute.

When the kids were in preschool, I spent a year penning the monthly newsletter.  Nothing fancy and nothing profound, but fun. For the last few years teaching Frazer I have learned how to parse language down the to the most basic of blocks (syllable patterns) and then build it up. 

But other than occasional notes and emails for SRA,  I have not written much in a while.  I had forgotten how much I enjoyed processing life through words.  Some folks see images or buildings or races or colors, I think in words and feelings.  

Blogging is still relatively unknown to me.  I follow a few but I don't scan the horizon looking for cool things.  I wish.  But it is a new media.  My father is techno savvy so he understands blogging, but it has been something that Will's folks and my mother don't know.  I am not sure they appreciate the nature of it. 

Ultimately, it has linked me to so many friends.

And that is what I am grateful for.  Truly.  In the last month, the struggles have not been limited to Houlder and Frazer but their needs have taken a precedent.  Dell did not stop being Dell.  Porter did not stop being Porter.

What has made this all so much more bearable is the gifts that have been delivered to a blue cooler near our back gate.  Flowers, cards, phone calls, emails, prayers, hugs.

The simple things for which one can be grateful.

For our friend who came by last week who brought a special healing tea she had gotten in Japan.  She searched her house and found it.  Three years ago she had brought it back form her first trip to Japan as memory of that great visit, and she shared her story and had Houlder drink it.

Healing tea from Japan

For all of Houlder's teachers who check in and want to know if they can visit and how he is -- the person not the student.

For our pediatrician.  He is wonderful.  Even on his vacations he was making phone calls on behalf of Houlder.

For my sweet friend who organized these meals and the delightful cake with gummy worms and a butterfly ballooning coming out of it.

Gummy worm cake -- delicious

For the friends who share flowers like these peonies.  A little beauty does the soul good.

stellar peonies

For the friend who calls and listens when I lose it and cry. 

For the friend who dropped a book by.

For the friend who has a play a date for Porter almost every week.

For the friend who shows up unannounced because she wants to make sure that we are okay.

For the friends who take Frazer places so that I can be with Houlder. 

For the friends who volunteer to help do anything.

For the friends who share their stories and their ideas. 

For the friend who we will stay with in Bethesda instead of hotel.  She would not have it any other way.

For the dads who sat with Houlder at the cookout last week talking about old movies and man things.

For the teenage boys who have connected with Houlder via chatting or texting or visiting. 

For my friends who pick up my kids at school -- almost weekly.

The list goes on endlessly.

I have mentioned before this is an Odyssey.  A friend emailed me to keep the faith.  She is right.  There is a certain amount of faith that one has. I am not talking about God, but that matters to me.  I think she means the faith that it will turn out okay.  That we can solve this dilemma.  That we will reclaim life. 

But only with the help of friends who have been willing to drudge through blather and errors and fears. 

I won't argue with the damn simplicity of gratitude anymore.  I got the message universe.

Thank you.