Joys of Single Motherhood

I played three on three basketball yesterday morning. I think I last played about 20 years ago. The good news is that I can see the floor better, meaning I can anticipate and react faster. Mentally that is. Physically I am a bit of a wreck. I can't really run because of my back so instead I try to skittle as fast as I can from one basket to the other. I can't jump higher than about six inches but that may be my utter lack of conditioning. As for shooting--I had no muscle memory of even how to shoot. I had four points but only because I flung the ball upward while I stood under the basket. Today I woke up and the only thing that isn't sore are my hips. I had a blast and my surgeon reassured me this morning that unless I run two marathons a month or do something similarly bizarre, my hips will be fine. Basketball, volleyball, biking--it's all okay. After we played b-ball there was a holiday party hosted by the amazing woman who makes all the weekly arrangements for soccer

I hate holidays. I try not to for the kids' sake but other than their birthdays, I would sit them all out. I think they're a waste of resources--and not just money. There is wrapping paper, those annoying and eternal styrofoam inserts and those stupid plastic price tag things. My ex grew up without any holiday celebrations including his birthdays. His "off-the-boat" Irish parents worshiped frugality. They viewed those who wasted money buying gifts as fools. The worst part is that the entire rest of the world takes holiday weeks off. That means that all the people you have calls into will not call back until you are REALLY on deadline. Grrrrrr.

I've not felt much like being funny lately. I think I'm indulging in "Empty Nest Syndrome" early. I like to get a jump on things--mostly negative things. The other day Kid 1 took her 9-year-old charge to the aquarium in Connecticut. They had a nice time until the car suffered a flat tire on 95 between exits. She called me sounding calm and asked "Mom, how do you change a flat tire?" Proud of my independent, capable daughter I replied "you take it out of the trunk under that felt lid and the jack is in there." Then I realized that at 108 lbs. soaking wet she wasn't strong enough to wrestle the full-size spare out of the trunk. Still reveling in my pride I said "Just get Alex to help you lift it out". With the slightest edge of incredulity in her voice she said "I can't let Alex out on the highway. He'll wander into traffic. (The "you must be a complete idiot" was the subtext.) "Don't we have AAA?"

The kids and I agreed to care for a friend's Shiba Enu puppy for three days last week. I don't whether it's the dog, the owners or the breed but holy crud, what a nightmare. Moody, unpredictable, easy to displease, snappish and hyperactive, it was cute only until his family left. Oh, and completely untrained except for relieving himself, at which his performance was flawless. And he slept well at night, in his big cage in our basement. We are still glad he's gone and Roger has finally recovered his equilibrium. No more thoughts of doges for us.

It's rainy and cold today. Kid 1 left in a funk due to a "Sartorial Misfunction". I had put away the winter clothes including all black long-sleeved tops and she desperately "needed" one this morning. I suggested she put on a burgundy crew neck instead, which she did. Whoops. Wrong suggestion. Unfortunately, this looked worse than the Eileen Fisher cardigan (which I've had since before she was born) she'd had on over the original outfit.  But now it was too late to change back. What she required was a scoop-neck top. "Why did you put away all of my sweaters and long-sleeved shirts??" I reminded her that last week we had temperatures in the 80s but she claimed I was mistaken. I guess I was guilty of "misremembering". I told her I'd find the right top and bring it up to school. I went down to the basement and unearthed it and texted word of my triumph. In return, I got back a text that read "It's okay. Don't bother. I d

I hate "College Talk". This is Kid 1's last year of high school and I am already dreading the many "momversations" I'm going to be lassoed into this year. This is a rich town with super competitive parents and kids. Everything is a contest. SAT scores, how much a parent spends on tutors, how many schools your kid is applying to, which schools your kid is applying to, blah, blah, blah. It bores me silly. Actually, I find it irksome. Extremely irksome because I don't care. For whatever reason--I guess I'm insecure--I resent the assumption that I'm going to take part in this insane senior year ritual. Because I'm not. We're not. We don't have a quarter of  a million dollars to spend on some private college which will pretty much guarantee that Kid 1 will be unemployed after graduation. And the truth is, if you think sending your kid to any small, expensive private college for four years is automatically worth the money, I think you'r

My kids left on July 26 for a road trip to Tuscon, Arizona with their father, their step-mother, their adorable 4 year old half brother and their profoundly dumb--and I don't mean bark-less--Wheaten terrier. All of them in a Honda Pilot. They drove the mid-southern route: Pennyslvania, Virginia, Tennessee, Arkansas, Oklahoma, New Mexico and finally Arizona. I'm afraid that at least via phone the most insightful comment on the trip so far is "the desert goes for as far as you can see and then it's just mountains". That was from New Mexico. From Oklahoma he said "everyone is fat and they smoke". He said this without disdain and with a bit of awe. It has been twenty years since I drove across country but I believe that everyone kid should do so. Every person actually. I was lucky. I went to college in the midwest and driving two or three gigantic states across wasn't unusual for us. We called it "car camping". I was always fascinated by th

It is late afternoon on the second Saturday of my convalescence here. I am bored beyond words. I am so bored I just took a selfie. Then I spent five minutes editing it. It made no difference. I still need major Restylane and even then I look like my mother. That's the key--I look like my mother. Now, if you have a classically beautiful mother--most of us don't-this realization may be pleasing. For the rest of us, it's terrifying. I look like a slightly less wrinkled, definitely better coiffed, less crazed version of my mother. My hip incision is better looking. Sigh.

I am writing this from my hospital bed.The surgery went well. Both legs and knees feel better already. I am able to bend my right knee completely and when I do I can feel a lovely gliding sensation as the new joint does its duty. My butt muscles are sore from being cut just a little bit. Surgeon says his technique separates as few fibers as possible. He likens it cutting flank steak. Incisions look great and except for soreness in spots, the overall pain is minimal. I suspect I will wake up very sore in the morning. Second day onset and all that. Hospital experience has been fantastic so far. While I was waiting to go into the OR this morning I chatted up my surgeon after he mentioned that today is his daughter's birthday. Talk about a family business--his wife and all three of his kids are doctors and they are the fourth generation of doctors in the family. I wonder how common this is and how it affects the practice of medicine in this country?

Tomorrow is my last day of 'freedom'. My last day of not having to worry that if I move the wrong way my hip will dislocate and my hardware will pop out. After tomorrow I'm hoping my back and knees will stop feeling stiff and sore but I wonder if I will feel better immediately or will pain from the operation cancel out any immediate improvement. And most importantly, will I feel like a robot when much of each leg isn't really 'me'. On Thursday, Kid 2 and I ventured to the hospital to have the last of the checklist items crossed off pre-surgery. Kid 2 was my wheel man, meaning he pushed me in a wheelchair from admissions to the 4th floor Ortho floor, then down to the lab, then to radiology. It took about four hours. I thought it would take 90 minutes or so. The "Joint Class" took up most of that time. There were ten 'patients' and an equal number of family members stuffed into a small conference room on the Ortho floor. Getting everyone ou

Some parents hope their children will grow up to be doctors, lawyers or hedge fund managers. I want my kids to grow up and take charge of their own lives and of their own vaccination records. Kid 1 starts off a month of pre-college classes tomorrow. And what did she need at the last minute? An up-to-date copy of her vaccination record. Say what? When is she going to be old enough NOT to need her vaccination records? I picture her at 35 with two tiny kids clinging to her knees. She is on the phone--with me--asking if I have a copy of her updated vaccination records. Hopefully I will be unable to take that call because I will be on a fabulous trip with a man who keeps his own vaccination records on a microchip implanted in his groin. Mine will be in my purse along with those of my kids.

Kid One now has her license to drive. This morning at 0830, she passed with flying colors. Pretty much. Actually she screwed up her parallel parking but the nice lady let her try again and she did fine. The first time she took it in January the parallel parking exercise was the only part of the test that went smoothly. She is thrilled. It's going to cost just $50 a month to insure her. I can't believe how little it's going to go up. One of those rare instances where the Internet is saving me money instead of eroding the value of my labor. Yay!

I am trying to clean house, the upstairs in particular, before surgery on July 15. But wait you say, there is plenty of time. Why now?  Because I clean slowly. It's hard to clean when you can't bend, swivel or kneel without pain. And apparently it's also hard for me to clean when I don't have a boyfriend or at least that's the conclusion I'm drawing based on the amount of dust I just found under the bed.

It's Mothers Day and I am about to drive Kid 1 over to feed my ex-husband's dog. This is the ex-husband whose wife does not speak to me. I find this amusing 99 per cent of the time . Today I am low on gas and as Queen Elizabeth and I like to say "we are not amused". That's the only downside to pet sitting gigs for Boy Child--the price of gas.

Never mind the locusts. On Monday I have having lithotripsy to hopefully pulverize an 8mm stone. Wherever it has been hiding out down there, it picked a comfy spot. I haven't had much pain or discomfort for the last week and a half. I know it's there though. It does play Peek-a-Boo every few days. I am aware of it right now. There's a squinchy sensation and I have the merest hint of heart burn even though I haven't eaten today. I'll be glad to have it gone. Then it's on to the hips. I need them replaced. Not sure about the right one but the left has apparently been bone on bone for some time. I see an orthopedic surgeon with an excellent reputation on Thursday.

In November I had shingles. I got off pretty easily and I was surprised by the number of people who were instantly sympathetic--very sympathetic. Hell, even my crusty blue-blood editor expressed concern. The shingles went away in about a week and the pain was mild. In December, the week before Xmas I broke my left fibula near the ankle. That was only painful when I fell off my crutches--usually on the grand granite steps leading up to friends' big houses. On Thursday last, I woke up at 0300 in the worst pain I have ever experienced. It was centered on the left side of my torso, right over the kidney's territory. I changed positions in bed. No change. After ten minutes I knew I needed the ER. Sure enough, it was a kidney stone . It was located high up and it was large. Very large. Again people-mostly nurses--were instantly sympathetic. "Kidney stones are more painful than childbirth." I heard this a half-dozen times. I have no experience with the pain of childbirth

My daughter takes the world's longest showers. It must be genetic. In the good old days when her father and I were married we hosted many parties. He was always still in the shower when our guests started to arrive. It drove me nuts. And now I am my own father because I'm the one who pays the water bill. I hate to waste water and a shower longer than five minutes is practically criminal in my book. Like my father before me I have been known to rap on the door and "That's long enough! Get OUT of the shower!" But no more, because it's scary. Kid 1 told me this morning that when I yell like that, it scares her. And she was so upset the other morning that she cried. I remember being startled by my father's hollering but I never cried. I hadn't remembered that feeling until this morning--being scared and then rushing to finish. So no more yelling about showers. I felt awful that I'd made her cry. It never occurred to me. I find it difficult sometimes

I've been thinking about the idea of kids as "projects"--the idea that at the age of 16 or 17--your child is basically a small adult and as such your child-raising project is finished. The kid is on his way into the real world.Your job now is knowing when to let go and then letting go. Kids this age are busy with life.There are college applications, class schedules for next year, landing a part-time job, figuring out the summer internship, etc. etc. And for us at least, those decisions are Kid 1's to make. She just got her SAT scores back and she did well. She has always done well on standardized tests and from the time she was little I knew that her SAT scores would be high. I was right. The best part is that I got to say "I told you so" and she didn't roll her eyes. (Her success is due mostly to a genetic quirk, that's all. For some reason, she intuitively picks the right bubble to blacken. Her father has the same odd talent. Go figure.) We kn

It's sunny and cold today. The snow is shrinking quickly, though not quite fast enough. I am on my second week in my walking cast. Tomorrow may be the day I am finally liberated from any cast at all and "get" to progress to wearing just a brace. A brace with sneakers, but still not a cast. If you've ever had a cast you know the day-to-day indignities, the insecurity, the balance issues, the importance of not tripping others and not being tripped and the balance issues. Yes, I said 'balance issues' twice. The first two weeks or so I fell on average twice a day. Some days I fell four times. My son would hear me topple and yell "Are you all right? Are you all right?!!" and rush to my side. The worst fall I took was on the carpeted floor in the living room. I managed to break a few Xmas ornaments with a crutch and smacked my head hard on the hardwood floor. I fell twice on the highly polished hard wood kitchen floor at my little six-year-old charge'

I was musing the other day about the huge difference between the things you worry about when your kids are small compared to the things you worry about with teens. When my kids were small I worried that they'd get cavities, wouldn't get enough protein, would never have socks that fit, would lose a blankie, would swear like Mommy, wouldn't get into a good preschool/kindergarten, that she wouldn't stop biting even after she turned four and that he would never again let on that he could talk but wouldn't. Now I worry that the socks I bought for him last week won't fit next week, that his brain will turn to mush from too many MMOGs or whatever they're called this week, that she won't snap to academically in time to get her grades up in time to apply for college, or that she will suddenly want to go to one of those dumb ass private colleges that cost $250K for four years instead of FIT, or that he will never graduate from high school or ever learn to tie hi

I should be the poster child for the Health Care Reform Act. Until January 1st, I had been without health insurance for about six years. No colonoscopy at 50, no annual mammograms, no follow- up care for my 2008 bilateral mastectomy and reconstruction. I knew that my blood pressure was fine--don't know why, I just did--but I've never had my cholesterol levels checked. Over the years, I used my friends and neighbors whenever I needed a prescription. Yes, they're MDs. And I'd never had an injury until December. On December 28th I signed up for United Healthcare's Family Community Plan. I think it's essentially Medicaid for the middle class or lower middle class. I was skeptical at first. I pictured driving to sketchy neighborhoods to see doctors in basement level "clinics". I had heard that no one took Medicaid and that finding doctors was torturous. Under OCare, Medicaid monies in some states have been increased. I'm probably a beneficiary of that

Both my kids are watching the Breaking Bad series right now. I've watched a few episodes--the writing is brilliant and so is the acting but binge viewing isn't my thing. "Burner phones" are ubiquitous in BB. I got one yesterday and setting it up wasn't that easy. As my son watched BB in the backyard, I cracked the package open on my new $15 phone with heavy-duty scissors. I was amused to find that it does just about everything my expensive Wi-Fi device does except it's way more rudimentary. As I scrutinized the setup directions and attempted to set up an account and buy minutes, I started thinking about the use of burner phones on television. On TV, the bad guys have burner cells. My question is "who sets them up?" Does the average bad guy have the patience to set up an anonymous account online and then make the necessary phone call to the Burner Phone Company to untangle the online mess? I waited on hold for maybe 15 minutes. Not bad. Then I t