Christmas was different than I'd thought it would be. My festive spirit woke up and started throwing tinsel everywhere, screaming "Jingle Bells" at the top of its lungs until I gave in and stopped being a grinch. It helped that my niece, who is adorable, was incredibly excited about Christmas. She's almost two-- and despite all the drama that's centered around her, she's incredibly happy and chipper. Her mom is J, who I had expected to have some problems with today.
I didn't have any problems with her, to my surprise. We actually bonded. And she and my brother-in-law, M, announced to Robby and I (they'd told the rest of the family, but wanted to be sure we were told in person) that they're expecting another little girl. J is four months along and strangely enough, I knew as soon as I walked in the door. I was going to ask her, but the only thing I had to go on was that she looked slightly rounder and the way her hips tilted when she walked was different-- and I neither wanted her to think I was insinuating she was fat, nor think that I was looking at her butt (I wasn't, I just notice things like bone structure and balance). I had some emotional conflict about it. On one hand, I'm WAY excited that I'm going to have another tiny niece to spoil. On the other, it was a reminder that I'm not going to be having any more children, and she is. But when I thought more about it, I realized that I'll only be not having more children biologically--- we plan on adopting, and adopted little ones are just as much a new baby in the family as one that's been growing in a family member's uterus. You know, if that makes any sense. I've never had much of a line in my mind about adopted family members (I'm referencing the type of adoption with legal paperwork) and blood-related ones. After all, my mom and her biological sister were adopted by my grandparents, and my cousin is adopted. There's kids of Robby's cousins that are adopted.
But I'm tangenting off-- long story short, I was sad and a bit jealous, but now I feel better about it, and I'm sincerely happy about having a new niece on the way. And did I mention that she's due June 8th? That's three days after my birthday. I told J that I thought the baby would show up on the 2nd or 3rd. With all honesty, though, she'll probably come on the 5th--- my birthday, and M&J's wedding anniversary... and exactly one month off from her sister's b'day. June 5th is a busy day for our family.
I got a very, very meaningful gift from my friend Tracee. I don't remember ever crying when I've gotten a gift before, but this one brought me to (albeit manly) tears. She'd made me a scarf from the yarn that she'd originally gotten to make a baby blanket for Dahlia. It was green, orange and a pale off-white. She did the scarf in stripes, so it sort of looks like I'm rockin' a muted Irish flag. I've been wearing it all day-- I have some pictures to post later, when I get my camera hooked up to this computer and things transferred over.
I got some pretty awesome gifts-- Sebastian got me two blind bags, one MLP and one Doctor Who. I pulled a background pony who's name I can't remember off the top of my head and the rare attack-mode Weeping Angel. Froggy got a hilarious onesie from him, too. Some of the other gifts that stuck out were an aesthetic Buddha that I'd fallen in love with at Marukai, a TARDIS mini-cooler/warmer that makes the noise when I open the door. It's amazing and I keep opening and closing the door, just so I can pretend to be the doctor. >.> Froggy got a frog blanket that's ridiculously adorable and I may or may not be borrowing for the time being. It's so fuzzzzzy~~
And Bub loved the gifts I got him-- purple d20 cufflinks, a stage magic/sleight of hand kit and one of those 8bit oldschool ties from think geek.
All in all, Christmas day surprised me. It was full of things that yesterday, I thought I wouldn't be able to handle, things that came out of right field that I think I handled well and things that made me both really happy and really... something else. And it was all wrapped up with watching the new Doctor Who episode with Sebastian, Ian and Bub.
Here's to the coming new year, the turning of the wheel and all that jazz.
- Loki
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Christmas is burning
I just got home from an absolutely amazing two-ish days out in Castaic with family. It was great to see all of them-- I met a few people that I hadn't gotten to know before, so hopefully I've made some new friends (I'd like to think I have). I was beyond thrilled that people liked my Yule gifts, ate WAY too many cookies and bonded with my siblings, niece and nephew.
And then, I came home.
For some reason, coming home to my apartment sucked the happy right out of me. I don't know how I feel right now, except for annoyed. Annoyed that the place is cluttered, annoyed that I can't clean it... all those things and then some. Thank you, Leira and Mykal for putting up with the amount of sheer rage that I radiated when I walked in my door.
But the fact that I was still annoyed after cleaning and taking care of what was going on made me think. I realized that what's bothering me more than mess or chores not getting taken care of is that I desperately miss my family. The way that things are heading, it might be my grandfather's last Christmas-- and I'm probably not going to see him until sometime in February. I'm (about) two hours away from my family in Castaic... much like every time the holidays roll around, the separation and distance between me and the people I love feels like a million miles and hurts like hell. I've told Bub that I'm jealous-- his family lives, at most, 45 minutes away. We're going to get to see different parts of his side of the family three times during the holiday.
I sound bitter, I know. And I might even sound like a bit of a bitch. But family is one of the most important things to me, and I miss mine. I don't know when I'll get to see Mykal and Leira or the kids next. It might be a week-- it might be a month. I don't know when I'll finally get to do that art jam with Avie like I want to.
I'm frustrated. I'm used to my body hurting, and it's something that I can manage. But this deep ache in my heart? That's a bit much right now. I know I have a gorgeous little boy and a great husband to be celebrating the holidays with but at the same time, I keep thinking that Froggy's Nana won't get to spoil him for Christmas like she was so excited to do. I'm worried about the potential power struggle with J. I think that I was expecting this Christmas to feel a certain way, and with the exception of Yule and the joy it brought me, I haven't felt that Christmas sparkle that I usually do. We don't even have a tree this year.
This is the first year that I've never had a tree. That, for some reason, makes me feel even more broken. My house doesn't smell like fir. There isn't something for the cats to stare at in wonder, or for us to put presents under. We don't have a single ornament up, and the one decoration that I put out keeps falling down and nobody but me cares enough to pick it up off the floor. I feel like my Christmas spirit has been shanked and left to die in the gutter somewhere.
And to top it off, for some strange reason, I feel guilty for feeling like this after having such a great weekend. My psyche is a confusing thing and I'd like it to please, please shut up now.
- Loki
And then, I came home.
For some reason, coming home to my apartment sucked the happy right out of me. I don't know how I feel right now, except for annoyed. Annoyed that the place is cluttered, annoyed that I can't clean it... all those things and then some. Thank you, Leira and Mykal for putting up with the amount of sheer rage that I radiated when I walked in my door.
But the fact that I was still annoyed after cleaning and taking care of what was going on made me think. I realized that what's bothering me more than mess or chores not getting taken care of is that I desperately miss my family. The way that things are heading, it might be my grandfather's last Christmas-- and I'm probably not going to see him until sometime in February. I'm (about) two hours away from my family in Castaic... much like every time the holidays roll around, the separation and distance between me and the people I love feels like a million miles and hurts like hell. I've told Bub that I'm jealous-- his family lives, at most, 45 minutes away. We're going to get to see different parts of his side of the family three times during the holiday.
I sound bitter, I know. And I might even sound like a bit of a bitch. But family is one of the most important things to me, and I miss mine. I don't know when I'll get to see Mykal and Leira or the kids next. It might be a week-- it might be a month. I don't know when I'll finally get to do that art jam with Avie like I want to.
I'm frustrated. I'm used to my body hurting, and it's something that I can manage. But this deep ache in my heart? That's a bit much right now. I know I have a gorgeous little boy and a great husband to be celebrating the holidays with but at the same time, I keep thinking that Froggy's Nana won't get to spoil him for Christmas like she was so excited to do. I'm worried about the potential power struggle with J. I think that I was expecting this Christmas to feel a certain way, and with the exception of Yule and the joy it brought me, I haven't felt that Christmas sparkle that I usually do. We don't even have a tree this year.
This is the first year that I've never had a tree. That, for some reason, makes me feel even more broken. My house doesn't smell like fir. There isn't something for the cats to stare at in wonder, or for us to put presents under. We don't have a single ornament up, and the one decoration that I put out keeps falling down and nobody but me cares enough to pick it up off the floor. I feel like my Christmas spirit has been shanked and left to die in the gutter somewhere.
And to top it off, for some strange reason, I feel guilty for feeling like this after having such a great weekend. My psyche is a confusing thing and I'd like it to please, please shut up now.
- Loki
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
10 things I didn't expect about childbirth
When I first became pregnant, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. It was an interesting and very rough pregnancy... but what was even more of an unknown was labor itself. It was the first time I'd carried to term, and despite how much I read about it, or talked with women who had 'been there, done that', it was full of little things that I wish someone had told me about. Especially the ones that hit sudden and hard or were somewhat embarrassing.
1) There's a very, very good chance that you're going to throw up uncontrollably at some point. There's a nerve that runs along the interior of the spine, called the Vagus nerve. When the baby drops farther down into the pelvis (usually transition) his head presses against that nerve. And that nerve, being a jerk, thinks that it's getting the message to make you throw up. For me, it hit hard and fast. Rinsing my mouth out with cool water helped and so did shifting so that there was counter-pressure to take the weight off of the nerve. It was also really, really startling when it happened; I had an epidural, so I wasn't feeling much pain or sensation. It was literally out of nowhere that I suddenly needed to throw up. Very suddenly. Keeping a bag/bucket nearby, or having your coach have one in easy reach might make you feel better about the potential surprise barfing.
2) If you have an epidural, they'll do a catheter. They do it after the epidural has taken effect, so it's not painful (or at least it wasn't for me). It isn't much of a surprise that you'll have to have a cath' with an epidural, but it WILL come as a surprise how hard it might be to move your legs for the nurse to do what she's gotta. I couldn't even move my left leg at all, it was REALLY weird. You can't feel your legs- so poking at them will sort of feel like you're poking squishy dough. It was slightly unnerving for me, so I left them be. Also, the nurse will just get all up in there. Mine gestured with a lubed-up tube while explaining what was about to transpire. This leads me to a bit of advice: if you're allergic to latex, make sure that you or your coach are very, very vocal about it. It was written all over my charts and on the info board for the nurses, but the nurse still almost used a latex cath' on me.
3) If you tear and need stitches, they'll give you a local anesthetic. In plain, blunt english, that means "a shot in the hooha". Usually, you won't feel it at all-- they do it while the epidural is still wearing off (epidurals are generally turned down and then off during the pushing stage). However, that doesn't mean that the local they give you won't wear off mid-stitching. This happened for me. I felt a sudden pinching, then immediately said something. They gave me more anesthetic (which didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, because hey, everything down there was like "LOL. A needle? A tiny pinprick? COME AT ME, BRO.") and things were groovy.
4) So, this is one of the embarrassing ones. Especially if you have an epidural, you're going to be a fart-machine. I swear, at one point, I thought that an oompa band had taken up residence in my butt. The nurses are happy to hear you flarp. It means that your guts are still working, that the baby isn't pinching anything closed that needs to be open and that...well... that you're doing good. I'm not entirely sure what all their reasons are for happiness over gassiness.
5) One thing that startled me was that when Froggy was put on my chest, he had a distinct smell. It wasn't a bad smell, and it wasn't a good smell. To me, it smelled very musty- sort of like the loam on a forest floor. It was very organic. I really don't have a perfect way to describe how he smelled, but the scent clung for a few days- I'd take up in the middle of the night while we were still in the hospital, furiously sniffing and trying to figure out what the new, weird smell was. The oddest part was that no-one else seemed to smell it once he'd had his bath. I figure that it has to do with the bonding process- your baby will have a smell that's unique to him. But again, it was a weird smell.
6) When you've had your baby, and after the placenta is delivered (because you've gotta deliver that, too. It didn't hurt at all for me, but felt really weird), the doctor is going to be very preoccupied with your vagina. Seriously. And if you need any stitches, they're going to be obsessed with sponges. Slightly unnerving story here: when they were counting the sponges after stitching and cleaning everything up, and making sure that an internal tear I'd gotten had stopped bleeding, they couldn't find one. Without much warning, the doctor reached her entire hand up inside my uterus to make sure that it hadn't escaped in there. So, she's roughly forearm deep in my business when we hear from one of the assisting nurses "Oh, here it is. It was in the bowl.". Honestly...? You'd think that it would have been uncomfortable to have felt a hand and part of an arm in there, but I didn't even really know it had happened until the doctor commented "I'm sorry about that... You didn't really *need* my whole hand up there. But at least we're sure there's no clotting!"
And on the upside, I never had that horribly heavy, horror-movie-esque bleeding postpartum. In fact, I was completely done, spotting included, at about two weeks postpartum.
7) Your first nurse (I say first, because there might be a shift change while you're in labor) might be a complete douche. Your second nurse might be a complete douche. I wasn't coherent enough at the time (aside from snarling a few mean things) when my first nurse was being horrible to remember that I could request a different nurse. My second nurse was made of sunshine and stardust and was some kind of saint.
8) I had an entire soundtrack set up to listen to while in labor. Music usually helps me be calm and focus-- but I couldn't STAND the sound. I could at some moments, but others, I needed it to be quiet and fast. Other moments, I needed it to be dark. Or cold. Or hot. Or bright. Or... some strange combination of impossible things. The things you might think you want or need, you might end up absolutely hating while you're in labor.
9) This isn't something I didn't know- I was well aware of what I might say or do during labor. You've probably got a pretty good idea that there might be some swearing, some very heart-felt 'i love you's' and... crazy laughter? I burst out laughing a few times. I also randomly started crying. The way that Saint Nurse explained it to me (since again, I had an epidural) was that my body was running a marathon. My hormones were going insane. And so my brain was running through every coping mechanism in the book.
10) There are two things that no one, from what I've understood, is ever ready for. One is how much labor hurts. My epi wore off about as soon as I hit transition. Froggy got his shoulder caught on one side of my pelvis. It hurt worse than anything I can describe to you.
The second thing that you won't be prepared for, or maybe even expect, is the strange feeling you'll have the second they put your baby on your chest. To be deeply personal here, it was suddenly like every bad thing I'd gone through trying to have a child was suddenly worth it. Bub and I lost our first pregnancy- so holding this little, gooey, stinky boy was a miracle beyond description and beyond comprehension. The room can be full of people, your partner or your mom or whomever can be right there at your side, having their own little bubble of bliss-- but all that you'll see for those first few, precious seconds is every dream that you've ever had, come true.
- Loki
1) There's a very, very good chance that you're going to throw up uncontrollably at some point. There's a nerve that runs along the interior of the spine, called the Vagus nerve. When the baby drops farther down into the pelvis (usually transition) his head presses against that nerve. And that nerve, being a jerk, thinks that it's getting the message to make you throw up. For me, it hit hard and fast. Rinsing my mouth out with cool water helped and so did shifting so that there was counter-pressure to take the weight off of the nerve. It was also really, really startling when it happened; I had an epidural, so I wasn't feeling much pain or sensation. It was literally out of nowhere that I suddenly needed to throw up. Very suddenly. Keeping a bag/bucket nearby, or having your coach have one in easy reach might make you feel better about the potential surprise barfing.
2) If you have an epidural, they'll do a catheter. They do it after the epidural has taken effect, so it's not painful (or at least it wasn't for me). It isn't much of a surprise that you'll have to have a cath' with an epidural, but it WILL come as a surprise how hard it might be to move your legs for the nurse to do what she's gotta. I couldn't even move my left leg at all, it was REALLY weird. You can't feel your legs- so poking at them will sort of feel like you're poking squishy dough. It was slightly unnerving for me, so I left them be. Also, the nurse will just get all up in there. Mine gestured with a lubed-up tube while explaining what was about to transpire. This leads me to a bit of advice: if you're allergic to latex, make sure that you or your coach are very, very vocal about it. It was written all over my charts and on the info board for the nurses, but the nurse still almost used a latex cath' on me.
3) If you tear and need stitches, they'll give you a local anesthetic. In plain, blunt english, that means "a shot in the hooha". Usually, you won't feel it at all-- they do it while the epidural is still wearing off (epidurals are generally turned down and then off during the pushing stage). However, that doesn't mean that the local they give you won't wear off mid-stitching. This happened for me. I felt a sudden pinching, then immediately said something. They gave me more anesthetic (which didn't hurt as much as I thought it would, because hey, everything down there was like "LOL. A needle? A tiny pinprick? COME AT ME, BRO.") and things were groovy.
4) So, this is one of the embarrassing ones. Especially if you have an epidural, you're going to be a fart-machine. I swear, at one point, I thought that an oompa band had taken up residence in my butt. The nurses are happy to hear you flarp. It means that your guts are still working, that the baby isn't pinching anything closed that needs to be open and that...well... that you're doing good. I'm not entirely sure what all their reasons are for happiness over gassiness.
5) One thing that startled me was that when Froggy was put on my chest, he had a distinct smell. It wasn't a bad smell, and it wasn't a good smell. To me, it smelled very musty- sort of like the loam on a forest floor. It was very organic. I really don't have a perfect way to describe how he smelled, but the scent clung for a few days- I'd take up in the middle of the night while we were still in the hospital, furiously sniffing and trying to figure out what the new, weird smell was. The oddest part was that no-one else seemed to smell it once he'd had his bath. I figure that it has to do with the bonding process- your baby will have a smell that's unique to him. But again, it was a weird smell.
6) When you've had your baby, and after the placenta is delivered (because you've gotta deliver that, too. It didn't hurt at all for me, but felt really weird), the doctor is going to be very preoccupied with your vagina. Seriously. And if you need any stitches, they're going to be obsessed with sponges. Slightly unnerving story here: when they were counting the sponges after stitching and cleaning everything up, and making sure that an internal tear I'd gotten had stopped bleeding, they couldn't find one. Without much warning, the doctor reached her entire hand up inside my uterus to make sure that it hadn't escaped in there. So, she's roughly forearm deep in my business when we hear from one of the assisting nurses "Oh, here it is. It was in the bowl.". Honestly...? You'd think that it would have been uncomfortable to have felt a hand and part of an arm in there, but I didn't even really know it had happened until the doctor commented "I'm sorry about that... You didn't really *need* my whole hand up there. But at least we're sure there's no clotting!"
And on the upside, I never had that horribly heavy, horror-movie-esque bleeding postpartum. In fact, I was completely done, spotting included, at about two weeks postpartum.
7) Your first nurse (I say first, because there might be a shift change while you're in labor) might be a complete douche. Your second nurse might be a complete douche. I wasn't coherent enough at the time (aside from snarling a few mean things) when my first nurse was being horrible to remember that I could request a different nurse. My second nurse was made of sunshine and stardust and was some kind of saint.
8) I had an entire soundtrack set up to listen to while in labor. Music usually helps me be calm and focus-- but I couldn't STAND the sound. I could at some moments, but others, I needed it to be quiet and fast. Other moments, I needed it to be dark. Or cold. Or hot. Or bright. Or... some strange combination of impossible things. The things you might think you want or need, you might end up absolutely hating while you're in labor.
9) This isn't something I didn't know- I was well aware of what I might say or do during labor. You've probably got a pretty good idea that there might be some swearing, some very heart-felt 'i love you's' and... crazy laughter? I burst out laughing a few times. I also randomly started crying. The way that Saint Nurse explained it to me (since again, I had an epidural) was that my body was running a marathon. My hormones were going insane. And so my brain was running through every coping mechanism in the book.
10) There are two things that no one, from what I've understood, is ever ready for. One is how much labor hurts. My epi wore off about as soon as I hit transition. Froggy got his shoulder caught on one side of my pelvis. It hurt worse than anything I can describe to you.
The second thing that you won't be prepared for, or maybe even expect, is the strange feeling you'll have the second they put your baby on your chest. To be deeply personal here, it was suddenly like every bad thing I'd gone through trying to have a child was suddenly worth it. Bub and I lost our first pregnancy- so holding this little, gooey, stinky boy was a miracle beyond description and beyond comprehension. The room can be full of people, your partner or your mom or whomever can be right there at your side, having their own little bubble of bliss-- but all that you'll see for those first few, precious seconds is every dream that you've ever had, come true.
- Loki
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
"But you don't look sick..."
I got this from a site that I adore called but you don't LOOK sick... it's an excellent read for anyone who has or is the partner to someone with an invisible illness-- that means something that makes someone sick, but doesn't have constantly obvious signs (like fibro or lupus). It's a meme that they did for an awareness event and I thought it might be helpful for those of you who *don't* know what's going on with me.
1. The illness I live with is: The first thing people think of as my illness is probably fibromyalgia. I also have a weak immune system, psychogenic non-epilectic seizure disorder and several things that fall onto the mental scale, like Asperger's.
2. I was diagnosed with it in the year: I was diagnosed with having immune problems when I was a small child, I'm not sure of the exact year. I was diagnosed with fibro in my late teens/early twenties. My seizure disorder was diagnosed a few weeks ago.
3. But I had symptoms since: I remember being sick constantly as a child-- with weird, weird things like scarlet fever, german measles, strep and tonsilitis so bad that it turned my tonsils to mush. When I was in my teens is when I first consciously remember my joints starting to ache.
4. The biggest adjustment I’ve had to make is: Realizing and accepting that I have limits and that I have to stick to them.
5. Most people assume: That my symptoms aren't constant and that I get a "break" from being sick. Usually, I don't mention when things are on the smaller scale- when my joints hurt or I'm nauseous, only when things are note-worthy like being hospitalized. I think people kinda figure that I'm only sick when it's bad.
6. The hardest part about mornings are: Getting up by a certain time. Some days, it takes me a few hours before it doesn't hurt too much or before I'm not so nauseous that moving makes me sick. If I have a deadline for when I need to be up by, it can be ridiculously difficult.
7. My favorite medical TV show is: My husband is going to shake his head that I'm not saying Scrubs, but.... House. I love House more than I should.
8. A gadget I couldn’t live without is: My kindle! I inherited it, so it's sort of bittersweet that I have the good fortune to have one, but it makes me feel better when I'm stuck somewhere like the hospital.
9. The hardest part about nights are: Winding down. Insomnia is one of the other things that pesters me (and believe me, it's one of the more minor worries), so getting my body to accept that it's time to sleep is a trick. Thankfully, I take something at night to help me sleep.
10. Each day I take: I take pills roughly 9 times through the day, 10 if you count my vitamin. 11 if you want to count birth control. For the sake of full disclosure, and because I don't think it's a secret to anyone despite my trying to keep it close to the vest, medical cannibis. No comments on my medications, please. Just assume that I'm responsible and that my son's safety is my first concern when medicating, and you'll be right.
11. Regarding alternative treatments I: Please see above. But honestly, if there's something out there that doesn't destroy our livers like vicodine does, and helps to get me through the day by which I mean 'giving me the chance to keep food down, run an errand without collapsing in pain after and being able to be a responsible parent-- yes, I said responsible while talking about cannibis. It's a shocker, but not everyone who uses it uses it for recreational purposes, and medical users CAN be responsible, capable human beings and parents. I will respect your opinion if you don't agree-- please respect mine, too.
12. If I had to choose between an invisible illness or visible I would choose: Invisible, particularly if there's nothing else added to what I already have. I'd rather fight an enemy that I'm familiar with, than something completely new and terrifying.
13. Regarding working and career: I've had to put both of those on hold for the time being. At the moment, getting healthy and taking care of my kid are the two biggest priorities in my life.
14. People would be surprised to know: That how I'm presenting how I feel on the outside is very likely an outright lie. Chances are, I feel like I've run a marathon, want to vomit and have aching joints. But I take *pride* in being able to put on a happy face when I'm not feeling it. Years ago, I wouldn't have ever admitted to anyone how I was really feeling, but in the last few years I've come to terms with knowing that people don't expect me to be upbeat all the time and that asking for help isn't weakness,it's showing that you know there's strength in a pack.
15. The hardest thing to accept about my new reality has been: That I'm not going to get to have more children. Because of the way I scar and how my body responded to being pregnant with Froggy, it's very, very ill advised that I ever carry a child again. There's also the chance of my immune system going crazy and spontaneously ending the pregnancy, which isn't something that I feel I could handle happening again.
16. Something I never thought I could do with my illness that I did was: Give life to such an AMAZING little boy. I thought for a long, long time that I'd never carry a child to term or that if I did, my health would be in extreme peril. As it turned out, I got my shot at the stars. The big dipper looks great.
17. The commercials about my illness: I think there's a commercial for Lyrica that puts Fibro kinda... nicely? It's definitely aimed at the people who already have the illness. But it does try to explain how it effects people who have fibro to those who don't.
18. Something I really miss doing since I was diagnosed is: Oh man... camping. Going places at the drop of a hat. Deciding at 3pm that I'm staying out till 2am and not having to leave my friends to go back to the house and get my meds or cancel last minute. I miss being dependable.
19. It was really hard to have to give up: Being independent. It's been the hardest thing in the world to ask for help. But I'm learning to relax and ask people for the things that I need help with.
20. A new hobby I have taken up since my diagnosis is: Being a paparazzi when it comes to Froggy. That awesome little guy knows what the camera looks like... and gets the most seriously business face as soon as he sees it.
21. If I could have one day of feeling normal again I would: I would take Bub and Froggy fishing in the Grand Tetons. We'd go hiking and then we'd stay up to the wee hours by the campfire, roasting marshmallows and not worrying at all about meds or schedules or pain.
22. My illness has taught me: Who I can really count on. There have been people that I've lost as friends because of being sick. But... like the person who I got this meme from said, if you want to know who your real friends and family are, get sick and see who stays.
23. Want to know a secret? One thing people say that gets under my skin is: When a doctor looks at me and says, "You're too young to have all these things wrong with you. It's all in your head." That's one of the most deeply painful things that I've ever had to hear. And I've heard it with pretty much every new doctor I have to go to.
24. But I love it when people:When people actually help instead of saying that they will, and then doing nothing. Being able to have a clean living room without wrecking myself is heavenly.
25. My favorite motto, scripture, quote that gets me through tough times is: "Never give up, never surrender!" and also "When you're going through hell, keep on going. Don't look back-- if you're scared, don't show it. You might make it out before the Devil even knows you're there."
26. When someone is diagnosed I’d like to tell them: It isn't your fault. You didn't choose to be in pain all the time. People are going to treat you sometimes like you're full of it-- especially with things like fibro and psychogenetic seizures, but politely tell them to shut their mouth if they don't have to deal with chronic illness. You WILL make it through. You might not be 'okay' by the standard definition of the word, but you'll find what counts as 'okay' for you, and those days when you feel that will will be pure magic. Don't give up, don't cop out and don't take the easy road away from your illness. It's better to live in pain than to just give up. And don't feel abnormal if you're depressed-- talk to someone. It's normal to get depressed when you're this sick.
27. Something that has surprised me about living with an illness is: The ignorance of good people. On a positive note, that the strength of others can be relied on when you don't have your own.
28. The nicest thing someone did for me when I wasn’t feeling well was: In regard to the illnesses mentioned here? Two words: Cleaning Fairies. In relation to the worse physical and mental combo of not feeling well? When Stoker and Razz drove down at the drop of a hat after we lost Dahlia.
29. I’m involved with Invisible Illness Week because: I'm several months late for IIW, but I'm still doing by part to educate and spread the word.
30. The fact that you read this list makes me feel: Grateful. Hopeful that you've learned something and understand me a bit better. Cared for, warm and fuzzy.
Love you guys.
The SAHM
Unless you're someone who frequents baby-related forums like I do, chances are you're wondering what 'SAHM' stands for. Unless there's some other thing it's an acronym of, it stands for "Stay At Home Mom". And let me tell you, us sahm's are a fierce bunch-- especially when someone insinuates that we just sit around at home all day. This is coming up because I recently had an (albeit currently without kids) friend ask me why I couldn't hang out more often, or have them over to visit me. When I answered that it was because I usually had a really busy day and my hands were full with Froggy, they gave me a disbelieving look and said "But you just sit around all day. I've seen your house."
So this is a letter to this anonymous friend (who is staying anonmyous unless they decide to 'out' themselves) explaining why, exactly, I don't have time anymore.
Dear Confused Friend,
I know that you go to work. At the end of the day, you come home to your spouse and sometimes get to sit and relax, and sometimes make dinner. A few days later, you get a day off, on which you can lounge around or play video games or do whatever your budgets lets you, really.
Let me start by saying that stay at home moms never get a day off. Ever.
Let that sink in for a minute. Our spouses and partners have days off-- days that they justifiably want to relax. But on those days where they're enjoying relaxing (I'm lucky that on his days off, Bub pitches in hardcore), we're still doing all the things that we've been doing the rest of the week. In fact, make that 'every day, for the last FEW weeks'. We don't get lunch breaks, 15-minute paid time off or often even the chance to take a shower long enough to both shampoo and condition our hair. I can't remember the last time I was able to take a shower that long without having back-up to quiet Froggy when he starts screaming because Mommy is out of his line of sight. Sometimes, I take him in the shower with me-- but then that's filled with trying to wrangle and wash a soapy baby. Or, if he's in his seat just outside the shower doors, it's full of sticking my head out of the open (and drafty) shower door to go 'boogabooga, mommy's still here'. Usually, I find him staring intently into the litter box for some reason and not caring much that I've disappeared. But that's beside the point.
I would love to get the chance to take a long, relaxing bath without *someone* needing *something*direly. But it'll be a while till that happens, I think. It's okay though-- I made the conscious choice to procreate and I'm aware that there are some pretty frustrating and crappy things that go along with having a kid. But again- I digress. My choice to start a family really doesn't have anything to do with your confusion over my 'sitting around'. You're wondering why I can't hang out with you- or even why I might choose to hang out with someone else or go run an errand during my 'free time'.
I have to say it now-- you're pretty selfish, Friend. I adore you, but you've still got your head pretty far up your ass about this specific point. The first thing I do when I wake up to start my day is feed my kid, then (if I have time) grab a snack for myself. Then it's diaper changing, getting dressed (for him, not me. At this point, I'm still wandering around in what I went to sleep in), play time and then an hour or so of fussing for no reason. At this point, it's been about two hours since I got out of bed. What do you do in your first two hours? No, really. I want to know-- I would hate to make an assumption that you sit around and do nothing.
The rest of my day, base, is devoted to making sure that my husband gets to work, the house gets clean, lunch and dinner get made, eaten and put away and that my son is well taken care of. I can't remember the last time that I was able to sit down and draw without being interrupted after a few minutes by a crying, fussing baby or a husband needing me to get/make/assist/advise with something. You mentioned once that Bub could 'do more to help me after he gets off work'. Yes, he could. but when he works from 3p-midnight, like he is the night I'm writing this, I'm pretty much on my own. When he gets home, he wants to sleep. He's a champ and gets up in the morning to help with Froggy, but do YOU really want to come home to have a screaming baby handed to you after that long of a shift? Then there are the times that your spouse will come home from work and you NEED them to take care of the baby-- so they do, but are so tired and frustrated that the baby gets frustrated and just screams. Then, not only do you have a screaming baby, but you also have a spouse who ends up coming to you after an hour (to which you chuckle at the length of time it took) ready to pull out their hair and saying that they need to tap out, because they're strongly considering padding a wicker basket and finding the nearest river.
You also mentioned as your proof that I don't do anything at home that you KNOW I don't, because of the way my house looks. I would like to point you, slightly scathingly, at this: http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/
I was most shocked that you called my house into play. You've known me long enough to know about what's not quite right about my health. You've seen, firsthand, days that I've been in too much pain to get out of bed. Or the days that I can't even keep down water-- not because I have the flu, but simply because that's the part of my body that's rebelling today. I do my best to not bring up that I'm sick as a reason for my not being able to do things; the people who are closest to me know that I'd much rather run myself into the ground than ask for help from someone with a busy schedule. It's something I've been working on (asking for assistance when I need it), but seriously? You've known me HOW long and you're pulling my being sick into this?
I'm sorry. I'm more than a little upset with you right now, Friend.
But to get back to the basic point of this: never, ever have the gall to insinuate that my day is spent sitting around doing nothing. If you were to ever flounder like this, don't you think that the first thing I'd do is bring over dinner, pick up the baby and tell you to go do something for YOU? Haven't I don't that for you before, when life was kicking you while you were down? I dare you to ask some other sahm mom that you know (because sorry, I'm both mad and laughing my ass off at you right now) if you can babysit their kids for a whole day, pick up their house and have dinner on the table by the time they're home from work, just so you can see exactly how difficult it is. And before you arrive at whatever early-ass time that that mom asks you to come over I want you to run long enough that your muscles ache, you're mildly nauseous, your body temperature fluctuates, you're bone-weary and in pain. Then, you might get an idea of my general day.
I'm going to wrap this up by saying that as hard as it is, I have an AMAZING support system. Friends like you are few and far between, I'm finding, and I'm happy for that. Most of my friends and family want to help and are HAPPY to do so. I couldn't be more grateful for the things that they've done to help or done just to give me and Bub a break for a while. It all means way more than they'll even know. That help picking up the house, those few hours of babysitting, those are the things that keep me sane and keep me going. I hope that someday when you have kids that you'll feel confidant enough to call me and ask for help. And by the way? I won't say no. I'll say "What time should I come over?".
Please, Friend. Think before you speak next time.
Not as cheerfully as usual,
Loki
So this is a letter to this anonymous friend (who is staying anonmyous unless they decide to 'out' themselves) explaining why, exactly, I don't have time anymore.
Dear Confused Friend,
I know that you go to work. At the end of the day, you come home to your spouse and sometimes get to sit and relax, and sometimes make dinner. A few days later, you get a day off, on which you can lounge around or play video games or do whatever your budgets lets you, really.
Let me start by saying that stay at home moms never get a day off. Ever.
Let that sink in for a minute. Our spouses and partners have days off-- days that they justifiably want to relax. But on those days where they're enjoying relaxing (I'm lucky that on his days off, Bub pitches in hardcore), we're still doing all the things that we've been doing the rest of the week. In fact, make that 'every day, for the last FEW weeks'. We don't get lunch breaks, 15-minute paid time off or often even the chance to take a shower long enough to both shampoo and condition our hair. I can't remember the last time I was able to take a shower that long without having back-up to quiet Froggy when he starts screaming because Mommy is out of his line of sight. Sometimes, I take him in the shower with me-- but then that's filled with trying to wrangle and wash a soapy baby. Or, if he's in his seat just outside the shower doors, it's full of sticking my head out of the open (and drafty) shower door to go 'boogabooga, mommy's still here'. Usually, I find him staring intently into the litter box for some reason and not caring much that I've disappeared. But that's beside the point.
I would love to get the chance to take a long, relaxing bath without *someone* needing *something*direly. But it'll be a while till that happens, I think. It's okay though-- I made the conscious choice to procreate and I'm aware that there are some pretty frustrating and crappy things that go along with having a kid. But again- I digress. My choice to start a family really doesn't have anything to do with your confusion over my 'sitting around'. You're wondering why I can't hang out with you- or even why I might choose to hang out with someone else or go run an errand during my 'free time'.
I have to say it now-- you're pretty selfish, Friend. I adore you, but you've still got your head pretty far up your ass about this specific point. The first thing I do when I wake up to start my day is feed my kid, then (if I have time) grab a snack for myself. Then it's diaper changing, getting dressed (for him, not me. At this point, I'm still wandering around in what I went to sleep in), play time and then an hour or so of fussing for no reason. At this point, it's been about two hours since I got out of bed. What do you do in your first two hours? No, really. I want to know-- I would hate to make an assumption that you sit around and do nothing.
The rest of my day, base, is devoted to making sure that my husband gets to work, the house gets clean, lunch and dinner get made, eaten and put away and that my son is well taken care of. I can't remember the last time that I was able to sit down and draw without being interrupted after a few minutes by a crying, fussing baby or a husband needing me to get/make/assist/advise with something. You mentioned once that Bub could 'do more to help me after he gets off work'. Yes, he could. but when he works from 3p-midnight, like he is the night I'm writing this, I'm pretty much on my own. When he gets home, he wants to sleep. He's a champ and gets up in the morning to help with Froggy, but do YOU really want to come home to have a screaming baby handed to you after that long of a shift? Then there are the times that your spouse will come home from work and you NEED them to take care of the baby-- so they do, but are so tired and frustrated that the baby gets frustrated and just screams. Then, not only do you have a screaming baby, but you also have a spouse who ends up coming to you after an hour (to which you chuckle at the length of time it took) ready to pull out their hair and saying that they need to tap out, because they're strongly considering padding a wicker basket and finding the nearest river.
You also mentioned as your proof that I don't do anything at home that you KNOW I don't, because of the way my house looks. I would like to point you, slightly scathingly, at this: http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/
I was most shocked that you called my house into play. You've known me long enough to know about what's not quite right about my health. You've seen, firsthand, days that I've been in too much pain to get out of bed. Or the days that I can't even keep down water-- not because I have the flu, but simply because that's the part of my body that's rebelling today. I do my best to not bring up that I'm sick as a reason for my not being able to do things; the people who are closest to me know that I'd much rather run myself into the ground than ask for help from someone with a busy schedule. It's something I've been working on (asking for assistance when I need it), but seriously? You've known me HOW long and you're pulling my being sick into this?
I'm sorry. I'm more than a little upset with you right now, Friend.
But to get back to the basic point of this: never, ever have the gall to insinuate that my day is spent sitting around doing nothing. If you were to ever flounder like this, don't you think that the first thing I'd do is bring over dinner, pick up the baby and tell you to go do something for YOU? Haven't I don't that for you before, when life was kicking you while you were down? I dare you to ask some other sahm mom that you know (because sorry, I'm both mad and laughing my ass off at you right now) if you can babysit their kids for a whole day, pick up their house and have dinner on the table by the time they're home from work, just so you can see exactly how difficult it is. And before you arrive at whatever early-ass time that that mom asks you to come over I want you to run long enough that your muscles ache, you're mildly nauseous, your body temperature fluctuates, you're bone-weary and in pain. Then, you might get an idea of my general day.
I'm going to wrap this up by saying that as hard as it is, I have an AMAZING support system. Friends like you are few and far between, I'm finding, and I'm happy for that. Most of my friends and family want to help and are HAPPY to do so. I couldn't be more grateful for the things that they've done to help or done just to give me and Bub a break for a while. It all means way more than they'll even know. That help picking up the house, those few hours of babysitting, those are the things that keep me sane and keep me going. I hope that someday when you have kids that you'll feel confidant enough to call me and ask for help. And by the way? I won't say no. I'll say "What time should I come over?".
Please, Friend. Think before you speak next time.
Not as cheerfully as usual,
Loki
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Christmas Wishes
This Christmas, Froggy will be 4 months old. I'm not sure where the time has gone-- it seems like just yesterday that I was holding a stick, strange-smelling newborn. He's giant now, and his doctor says he's a very healthy little dude.
People have been asking what he (also Robby and myself) would like for Christmas. Eli would like the following:
- A bouncy chair or one of those circle-gyms that he can 'stand' in
- More cloth diapers. We use giggle life diapers. You can find them here http://www.alvababy.com/ and here http://www.gigglelife.com/catalog/
- A ring-sling or sling in that style.
- Toys that light up!
- Fun, geeky toys
- Clothes that are 3-6/6-9 month size. He's outgrowing things faster than I can get new ones to fit.
- Teething toys
- Large-sized swaddle pods
- This light: http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/e6cc/
- An amber teething necklace
- Anything home/handmade!!
I'm not entirely sure what I want for Christmas, myself. I love Doctor Who, Big Bang Theory and Elfquest. I also love maple sugar candies, anchovies (seriously, give me anchovies in oil and I'll be happy) and exotic meats. Seriously.
I *have* wanted both Miracle Berry Tablets and a dehydrator (so I can make dried apples and my own jerky) for a while now. I've also started crocheting- non-wool yarn and crochet needles are welcome. And of course, I adore anything home/handmade. Those are some of my favorite gifts.
So, what would YOU like for the holidays?
- Loki
People have been asking what he (also Robby and myself) would like for Christmas. Eli would like the following:
- A bouncy chair or one of those circle-gyms that he can 'stand' in
- More cloth diapers. We use giggle life diapers. You can find them here http://www.alvababy.com/ and here http://www.gigglelife.com/catalog/
- A ring-sling or sling in that style.
- Toys that light up!
- Fun, geeky toys
- Clothes that are 3-6/6-9 month size. He's outgrowing things faster than I can get new ones to fit.
- Teething toys
- Large-sized swaddle pods
- This light: http://www.thinkgeek.com/product/e6cc/
- An amber teething necklace
- Anything home/handmade!!
I'm not entirely sure what I want for Christmas, myself. I love Doctor Who, Big Bang Theory and Elfquest. I also love maple sugar candies, anchovies (seriously, give me anchovies in oil and I'll be happy) and exotic meats. Seriously.
I *have* wanted both Miracle Berry Tablets and a dehydrator (so I can make dried apples and my own jerky) for a while now. I've also started crocheting- non-wool yarn and crochet needles are welcome. And of course, I adore anything home/handmade. Those are some of my favorite gifts.
So, what would YOU like for the holidays?
- Loki
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Wolves and Trees, or How Elfquest Changed my Life
When I was a child-- a tiny, tiny little thing of three -- my mother pulled a colorful comic down off the shelf for me to look at one day, when I was asking for "Book book book!" and wouldn't leave her alone. There were such amazing characters moving across the pages, so much action and color! It was visual heaven to a tiny me. I didn't understand what was going on (after all, what three-year-old understands like sex, war and all the subtle, interwoven complexities that fill the World of Two Moons?), but I knew that I loved it. A week later, I asked my mother for "Puppy book.".
"Puppy book" was, as you might have guessed, Elfquest. Elfquest is the reason that I'm who I am today. No, really. I'm not joking-- if I look back, the things that I found between those pages (some of those things unconventional, but much loved) have shaped my life. The love between partners, the bond between a Wolfrider and his wolf, the sheer love of art and comics that I have now and the idea that family is what you make it-- those are just a few of the things that I took away from the comics. As I grew older, after we went to church on Sundays, we went out looking for Elfquest. My mother called it our "Sunday Quest". We'd go to a rib place called Texas Lucy's, and then as soon as I scarfed my meal down I'd ask to go over to the comic shop next door. I remember the first few times I went in. The owner tried to direct me to things like Marvel and DC. I asked him where the Elfquest was, and I remember him smiling as he led me to a row of longboxes filled with mixed comics. After a few months of Sunday visits, I had a stool waiting for me to sit on as I spent hours looking for those elusive, magical books.
I would spend my afternoons when school let out down in the garden, a bag full of Elfquest at my side, pretending to be a Wolfrider. Now, let me explain the garden-- I was fortunate to grow up in a beautiful area called Rolling Hills. It was a gated community with people like Chuck Norris and Rosanne Barr living there; but the entire place was like a forested getaway. A good portion of the people who lived there owned horses, so horsetrails crisscrossed the entire area. Our garden was no exception, and was certainly not low on the asthetic scale. We had 24 rose bushes (I remember the number, because they were planted in rows of twelve), a peach tree, plum tree, apple tree, apricot tree, two avacado trees, raspberries, blackberries, tangerines... it was a paradise for someone who wanted to escape to a forested paradise. Well... if that forested paradise was like an orchard. But the imagination of a child is a spectacularly powerful thing-- and I'll be damned if that place wasn't Goodtree's Rest.
I know that people will argue that Elfquest isn't exactly a good read for a young child, what with all the adult subject matter. But those who know me know that I was no average kid. I figured out the relationships early on-- my mother delights in telling the story of how one day, I came up to her with Elfquest in hand and demanded to know if Cutter and Skywise were married or not, and if they were, why was Cutter running off the Leetah? After laughing at my complete indignation, she explained to me that sometimes, men love each other. And sometimes, men love women. And in the rare instance, sometimes, a person can love more than just one person, and all three of them love each other. This put the idea into my head that, surprise surprise, love and respect was what mattered-- not gender, sex or the traditional, two-person relationship. However, that's not to say that the "sanctity of marriage" was lost on me; I understood the soul-deep bond of Clearbrook and One-Eye. I understood the childlessness of Redlance and Nightfall.
As a child, I fell in love with it all.
I'm going to skip a bit about now, to the last few years-- and will say, right now, that Wendy Pini is my hero. She's been my inspiration as an artist and storyteller since I was child. Her work is the reason that I picked up a pencil and started to scribble. I also firmly think that she's the reason I'm anal retentive about having well-rounded characters in a well-developed universe, but that's beside the point (and isn't a bad thing at all). Anyhow, one year I was working at Anime Expo in the dealer's hall. I was helping friends of mine with their booth- they sold costumes and runes and such. I was leafing through the program when, to my complete joy, I saw the name "Wendy Pini" written down as someone important who would be attending the convention. So naturally, I scoured the program for where she'd be-- and discovered that she was (as I was reading) sitting down at the booth directly across from mine.
My girlfriend at the time (I don't think we were engaged yet?), a fantastic young woman named Meg, burst into laughter as I suddenly dropped out of site behind my table, suddenly terrified. Here was my idol, sitting right across from me. I needed to do SOMETHNG! I grabbed my sketchbook and -- dressed as Rock Lee, from Naruto, a blindingly green and orange combination -- went to go say hello to Wendy Pini. As it turned out, the autograph session was about to start, and I'd beaten the crowd! I was nervous. Terrified. My heart was beating a thousand miles a minute in my chest, so I did the only thing I could think to do.
As I stepped up to the table... I hid behind my sketchbook. I didn't know what the heck was going to happen. I was, as I though, making a fool of myself. But then, from the other side of my hiding spot, I heard "Why, if it isn't a little green elf!" I peeked over the top and stammered something about my lifelong love of Elfquest and how she was my hero and what was the Masque of the Red Death comic (what she had come to the convention to sign for). Needless to say, it was a fantastic meeting-- I got to meet the one person that I'd said all my life that I wanted to meet AND I found out she had a new comic going! I was thrilled.
Fastforward a few years to the future. I moved down from Belmont to Fullerton, and was now in a relationship with Robby-- someone who would become my husband. We had this secret santa exchange, and one person in our group (for privacy's sake, I'm going to call him Mr. Physics, because he's an absolutely stellar and brilliant physicist) is VERY well known for giving complicated-to-open and/or find gifts. He had drawn me that year, to my joy. I was up for a challenge! I was ready for whatever he was going to throw at me!
I wasn't, however, ready when I opened a hardcover copy of Elfquest. There was an envelope in it, with writing on the outside that I hadn't seen before... or had I? I opened it and read through. Then read through again. Then again. And then shrieked in delight. I may have cried. The note simply read:
"Loki,
Good luck on your Quest!"
- Wendy Pini"
The next week was spent trying to find the rest of my gift (three more hardcover Elfquest compilations and 2 gigs of RAM for my laptop)-- it involved sneaking into the men's locker room at the YMCA to retrieve one out of a friend's locker. It took me to a friend's backyard with a suspicious, angry possum to dig in the middle of the night under a spot marked with "X" to find the last two books. The RAM was inside a Chinese puzzle box that took me all night to figure out. It was the best christmas I've had in a long, long time. I have that note framed on my wall, because heck, who WOULDN'T frame something that cool?
Elfquest is still something that I love, just as strongly, today. I had a little boy three months ago, and I've already started telling him all about the Wolfriders and Trolls, the Sunfolk and the Go-Backs. He falls asleep to the songs that make up the 'soundtrack' of Elfquest-- strangely enough, Winnowill's song puts him right to sleep. And he's much braver than I am-- because Madcoil's song? It's terrifying when distorted over baby monitors. He giggles and coos when I tell him how Cutter and the Wolfriders traveled across the burning hot desert, and how he found Leetah. I tell him about how Skywise will never stop dreaming, how Moonshade's magic is in her sewing, how even silence can sometimes shout the loudest.
I will never stop reading or enjoying Elfquest. I look forward with great, great happiness to the day that I can hold my son in my lap and listen to all the questions that he'll have for me, like I did for my mother. I hope that in sharing it with him, I can teach him all of the love and tolerance that I learned from it. He'll form he own opinions and follow his own path, of course, but I hope that this will help foster a love of comics and art, and teach him about hunting and howling, loving and leaving. He'll learn that nothing lasts on this earth forever, but somewhere just out of our reach, the ones that left us are waiting.
Shade and sweet water, dear reader.
- Loki
"Puppy book" was, as you might have guessed, Elfquest. Elfquest is the reason that I'm who I am today. No, really. I'm not joking-- if I look back, the things that I found between those pages (some of those things unconventional, but much loved) have shaped my life. The love between partners, the bond between a Wolfrider and his wolf, the sheer love of art and comics that I have now and the idea that family is what you make it-- those are just a few of the things that I took away from the comics. As I grew older, after we went to church on Sundays, we went out looking for Elfquest. My mother called it our "Sunday Quest". We'd go to a rib place called Texas Lucy's, and then as soon as I scarfed my meal down I'd ask to go over to the comic shop next door. I remember the first few times I went in. The owner tried to direct me to things like Marvel and DC. I asked him where the Elfquest was, and I remember him smiling as he led me to a row of longboxes filled with mixed comics. After a few months of Sunday visits, I had a stool waiting for me to sit on as I spent hours looking for those elusive, magical books.
I would spend my afternoons when school let out down in the garden, a bag full of Elfquest at my side, pretending to be a Wolfrider. Now, let me explain the garden-- I was fortunate to grow up in a beautiful area called Rolling Hills. It was a gated community with people like Chuck Norris and Rosanne Barr living there; but the entire place was like a forested getaway. A good portion of the people who lived there owned horses, so horsetrails crisscrossed the entire area. Our garden was no exception, and was certainly not low on the asthetic scale. We had 24 rose bushes (I remember the number, because they were planted in rows of twelve), a peach tree, plum tree, apple tree, apricot tree, two avacado trees, raspberries, blackberries, tangerines... it was a paradise for someone who wanted to escape to a forested paradise. Well... if that forested paradise was like an orchard. But the imagination of a child is a spectacularly powerful thing-- and I'll be damned if that place wasn't Goodtree's Rest.
I know that people will argue that Elfquest isn't exactly a good read for a young child, what with all the adult subject matter. But those who know me know that I was no average kid. I figured out the relationships early on-- my mother delights in telling the story of how one day, I came up to her with Elfquest in hand and demanded to know if Cutter and Skywise were married or not, and if they were, why was Cutter running off the Leetah? After laughing at my complete indignation, she explained to me that sometimes, men love each other. And sometimes, men love women. And in the rare instance, sometimes, a person can love more than just one person, and all three of them love each other. This put the idea into my head that, surprise surprise, love and respect was what mattered-- not gender, sex or the traditional, two-person relationship. However, that's not to say that the "sanctity of marriage" was lost on me; I understood the soul-deep bond of Clearbrook and One-Eye. I understood the childlessness of Redlance and Nightfall.
As a child, I fell in love with it all.
I'm going to skip a bit about now, to the last few years-- and will say, right now, that Wendy Pini is my hero. She's been my inspiration as an artist and storyteller since I was child. Her work is the reason that I picked up a pencil and started to scribble. I also firmly think that she's the reason I'm anal retentive about having well-rounded characters in a well-developed universe, but that's beside the point (and isn't a bad thing at all). Anyhow, one year I was working at Anime Expo in the dealer's hall. I was helping friends of mine with their booth- they sold costumes and runes and such. I was leafing through the program when, to my complete joy, I saw the name "Wendy Pini" written down as someone important who would be attending the convention. So naturally, I scoured the program for where she'd be-- and discovered that she was (as I was reading) sitting down at the booth directly across from mine.
My girlfriend at the time (I don't think we were engaged yet?), a fantastic young woman named Meg, burst into laughter as I suddenly dropped out of site behind my table, suddenly terrified. Here was my idol, sitting right across from me. I needed to do SOMETHNG! I grabbed my sketchbook and -- dressed as Rock Lee, from Naruto, a blindingly green and orange combination -- went to go say hello to Wendy Pini. As it turned out, the autograph session was about to start, and I'd beaten the crowd! I was nervous. Terrified. My heart was beating a thousand miles a minute in my chest, so I did the only thing I could think to do.
As I stepped up to the table... I hid behind my sketchbook. I didn't know what the heck was going to happen. I was, as I though, making a fool of myself. But then, from the other side of my hiding spot, I heard "Why, if it isn't a little green elf!" I peeked over the top and stammered something about my lifelong love of Elfquest and how she was my hero and what was the Masque of the Red Death comic (what she had come to the convention to sign for). Needless to say, it was a fantastic meeting-- I got to meet the one person that I'd said all my life that I wanted to meet AND I found out she had a new comic going! I was thrilled.
Fastforward a few years to the future. I moved down from Belmont to Fullerton, and was now in a relationship with Robby-- someone who would become my husband. We had this secret santa exchange, and one person in our group (for privacy's sake, I'm going to call him Mr. Physics, because he's an absolutely stellar and brilliant physicist) is VERY well known for giving complicated-to-open and/or find gifts. He had drawn me that year, to my joy. I was up for a challenge! I was ready for whatever he was going to throw at me!
I wasn't, however, ready when I opened a hardcover copy of Elfquest. There was an envelope in it, with writing on the outside that I hadn't seen before... or had I? I opened it and read through. Then read through again. Then again. And then shrieked in delight. I may have cried. The note simply read:
"Loki,
Good luck on your Quest!"
- Wendy Pini"
The next week was spent trying to find the rest of my gift (three more hardcover Elfquest compilations and 2 gigs of RAM for my laptop)-- it involved sneaking into the men's locker room at the YMCA to retrieve one out of a friend's locker. It took me to a friend's backyard with a suspicious, angry possum to dig in the middle of the night under a spot marked with "X" to find the last two books. The RAM was inside a Chinese puzzle box that took me all night to figure out. It was the best christmas I've had in a long, long time. I have that note framed on my wall, because heck, who WOULDN'T frame something that cool?
Elfquest is still something that I love, just as strongly, today. I had a little boy three months ago, and I've already started telling him all about the Wolfriders and Trolls, the Sunfolk and the Go-Backs. He falls asleep to the songs that make up the 'soundtrack' of Elfquest-- strangely enough, Winnowill's song puts him right to sleep. And he's much braver than I am-- because Madcoil's song? It's terrifying when distorted over baby monitors. He giggles and coos when I tell him how Cutter and the Wolfriders traveled across the burning hot desert, and how he found Leetah. I tell him about how Skywise will never stop dreaming, how Moonshade's magic is in her sewing, how even silence can sometimes shout the loudest.
I will never stop reading or enjoying Elfquest. I look forward with great, great happiness to the day that I can hold my son in my lap and listen to all the questions that he'll have for me, like I did for my mother. I hope that in sharing it with him, I can teach him all of the love and tolerance that I learned from it. He'll form he own opinions and follow his own path, of course, but I hope that this will help foster a love of comics and art, and teach him about hunting and howling, loving and leaving. He'll learn that nothing lasts on this earth forever, but somewhere just out of our reach, the ones that left us are waiting.
Shade and sweet water, dear reader.
- Loki
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)