You know that feeling of being spread too thin?
Yes. That one.
Like rice paper. I have no depth today.
I love writing this blog, but I need quiet and time to think. To reflect. To collect my thoughts.
That has not been afforded me lately.
I am like one of those contestants at a lame-ass county fair who has won the right to step into the glass-paned money booth. Counting down from 3, 2, 1 . . . and they turn on the jet-engined fan and dump a bucket of dollar bills into the booth. The bills float and whirl and spin before my eyes, and I leap and grab and miss and grab and leap and miss and grab and miss.
I look the total fucking fool.
And when the fan cuts off, and I count my riches? In my clenched fists I find only three single dollar bills and twelve discount coupons for pizza and oil changes.
At this moment? I feel I am in a money booth of thoughts . . . and try as I might? I keep leaping and grabbing and missing, and as the clock ticks down?
I am holding only a few random disconnected bits of nothing that add up to not very fucking much.
Anybody need an oil-change coupon?
Sigh.
I had a conversation with Maj’s doctor today in which he explained that they are having some trouble getting Maj’s medical records transferred from Kaiser in Northern California. Why this transfer is troublesome, I cannot understand, as we were with Kaiser in California and we are with Kaiser here in Oregon. It’s the same fucking system, right?
Wrong.
It is as though we have had all of Maj’s previous medical needs tended to by foreign mystics who have since taken a vow of silence and uncooperation.
What the fuck, different branches of the same fucking Kaiser tree?
We were at Kaiser today to discuss Maj’s height. Or rather, her lack of it. Maj’s endocrinologist needed some background, and he (sensibly) figured that I (as Maj’s mother) might be able to help. I am her mother, and I felt more than up to the challenge of telling the story of Maj. It would have been helpful if someone had mentioned this record-transfer problem before I showed up empty-handed at this appointment, but I figured I could tell him what he needed to know.
And here is where it started going badly.
The doctor held his notepad and pen expectantly, “OK, so how much did Maj weigh when she was born?”
Hmmmmm . . . guess what? No fucking clue. I race backwards through my mind and my memory, but all I could find was an image of full-term Maj in the ICU immediately after her birth. She was GIANT compared to her neighbor preemies. A monster of a child.
This memory is not helpful.
I know that her head was enormous . . . 99th percentile. But he’s not asking me about her freakishly large baby head. She’s grown into it since . . . in case you were wondering.
Ooooooh . . . wait! Her birth weight had a 7 in it!
Think, think, think . . . and I hazard a guess, “7 pounds, 2 ounces?”
The doctor’s eyebrows shoot way up as he realizes I am guessing.
He scribbles and then asks me, “And how long was she when she was born?”
Seriously? She was the length of a baby.
I know that’s not the right answer, so I admit, “I don’t really have any idea.”
He laughs, “OK, but nobody at the time remarked on the fact that she was much taller or much shorter than average?”
“No, I think she was about average.”
Maj is looking at me with wide incredulous silent eyes.
“Alright, about how old would you say Maj was when it first came to your attention that she was significantly shorter than her peers?”
And then the doctor and Maj both stare at me with wide incredulous silent eyes.
I think. I know there must have been a point when I first noticed that she was short, but I do not remember that moment of realization. Hmmmmm . . . it was never that big a deal, and I am short, and I guess I just expected Maj to be short. I just do not remember a single defining moment of, “Oh my goodness! Do you see that? Maj is short!”
OK, so let’s see. I know she was short in kindergarten. And preschool. And before that . . . hmmmm . . . she had lots of friends and was in all sorts of playgroups. Was she the shortest? At age two, was she short?
They are still staring at me.
A good mother would know this information, apparently.
“Ummm, I know I have these records at home. I can pull those out for you and email you the numbers I have, but honestly? I think of my daughter more in terms of her personality, and that has always been huge. I do not know when she started being shorter than her peers.”
The doctor clicks his pen shut and turns to Maj, “What’s your memory, Maj?”
Maj is all annoyed with my stupidity.
She turns away from me to talk to the doctor, “OK, so when I was really little? Like two? I was just regular and my friends were sometimes taller and sometimes shorter. Well, actually, now that I think about it, I was maybe the shortest, but only by a little. But then when I was in preschool, I was definitely the shortest. And when I was in kindergarten, I was the shortest. But it wasn’t a huge deal. I mean, I was shorter, but not like a crazy amount shorter, you know? And it stayed like that for a while. I was shorter and everybody else was taller, but it wasn’t a huge difference.”
She continues, “But then, like over the last two years or so? I am not growing very much and everybody I know, all of my friends? They are growing a LOT. And I am not. And the difference between my friends and me now? It’s HUGE. I am not just the shortest kid. I am the tiny kid. I hate that.”
She crosses her arms and stares at him in challenge, “Being short is not so bad. Being tiny is annoying.”
The diagnosis? Maj is a late-bloomer.
Doctors today? They are like magicians! Sigh.
And remember what I said about having a great memory?
Scratch that.
Sigh.
And I looked it up!
At birth? Maj weighed 7 pounds, 7.8 ounces and she was 20.5 inches long.
And her head? It was enormous.
My head? Just wind and random blowing bits of paper which I cannot seem to quite grasp.
I felt exactly the same way today in reference to the inability to collect and/or organize any of my thoughts. Kind of caught in a vacumn of random-ness or something.
Stupid health care system and their vow of silence taking mystics. I actually could tell you all the height and weights of my children at birth. I could also tell you most of the birthdays of the children I went to Kindergarten with. But can I tell you the name of the most recent person I was introduced to within seconds of meeting them? Probably not.
Your head and the thoughts that eminate from it bring us all a great deal of enjoyment, entertainment, laughter and sometimes tears. You grasp more than you know.
I remember sooooooooooo much.
But then when there is a hole? It is all filled with blowing air and random thoughts.
I just think it is HILARIOUS that I was giving Mark grief the other day about not having memories of his dog.
And then today, I have a doctor and my daughter staring at me in disbelief as I fail to retrieve simple bits of information.
Mark is going to be all mocking when he reads this.
Hi Kris,
OK, I am again thinking we are kin. Mentally I am vapor-locked today. As to height or the lack thereof…I was always shorter than the rest, but not hugely. And then came junior high and those major growth spurts … that everyone but me got. Shit. I was reminded how small I was when showing No. 1 son my old football team photos. In one, the top of my head is at the same height as the bottom of our all-state tackle’s jersey number. About 1 foot difference. Tell Maj short girls are cute to all boys, so not to worry. Just don’t over-compensate by dating a basketball player. That really drives short guys insane… And if the Kaiser alchemists offer some “grow big” drugs, I’m in.
Bill
I was short, but not a “late bloomer,” as the doctor suggests Maj is.
I just grew at a regular rate to my final 5’2″ height.
The X-rays of Maj’s growth plates? Suggest she has much growing left to do, but that her body’s internal clock for doing that growing? Is off.
And what position did you play on the football team?
I have mentioned to Maj that boys think short girls are cute. This is not a big plus, in her eyes, as she thinks boys are stupid.
Okay, I didn’t even think of that! Too funny. If I were Mark though, I’d mock too. Relentlessly.
I know.
He is going to be all merciless and mockful.
Sigh.
Boys are totally stupid.
Also, short girls are totally yummy.
I am bringing nothing to this conversation. Go, me!
Yay, Nigel!
well fuck. i just wrote about how i’m losing my smarts and then i read your shit. you write SO much better about the wind blowing between my ears than i do. damnit. now i’m all jealous and mind-numb. fuck.
Why are you going to Russia?
I have been out of touch, apparently.
Not everything I say is a golden turd of awesome from the mysterious chicken of charm and wit.
Just mostly everything.
Hee. Turd.
OK, check this out!
A huge golden turd! It’s supposed to be beer foam, but seriously?
Not even.
By the power of Google!
Or do you just keep links to poop laying about on your Firefox?
Either way: totally awesome.
Googled that because I was looking for the “Golden Turd Award,” (which exists, by the way).
But then found that, which is much better.
Love you, Goose of golden-turd laying wisdom.
Love you back.
Also, I am eating Sweetarts this very minute.
And I have the booze thing covered.
We are a perfect pair.
If it helps? The one time my (useless) father took me to the doctor, she had to correct my paperwork. Because even my pediatrician (wtf? sp?) knew my birthday was 7/4 not 4/7. And she looked at him and was all like “were the fireworks not enough of a reminder?”. Which was awesome. I wouldn’t worry so much about Mark mocking you, but wait until the next argument with your daughter. Or the argument 10 years from now when this day is still being brought up. Yeah, have fun with that…..
Yes, Maj is going to remember this day.
Forever.
Because Maj? She has an awesome memory when it comes to my mothering failures.
Maj should just be thankful you remember you HAVE daughter tee hee. I get so annoyed when people see me without Jensen and ask where he is. Especially when I go visit my mom and then come home without the baby. Seriously? Where do you think my baby is? “I went to visit mom and then got bored so I put Jensen on the side of the road and left. It’s ok because he isn’t crawling yet so I know he will be there when I get back”. I have started saying “What baby? I have a baby?!” and walking away when people ask.
What were we talking about…
Oh yeah. I remembered. My sister stopped growing in middle school. My parents? Never took her to the Dr. Just mercilessly teased her about being “fun sized”. She’s fine, and still as tall as she was in middle school.
Yeah, the only reason we followed up with the endocrinologist was because there was a suggestion that there might be an underlying problem that might need addressing.
Turns out? She’s just short.
I will not be referring to Maj as “fun-sized.”
She would fucking kill me.
My mother in law asks me all the time if D has eaten…so now, I respond with, “no, we’re letting him starve these days.” No shit sherlock, I feed my kid on a very regular basis every day.
Hee hee!
It’s hard not to be snotty when people ask you such stupid questions.
I am prone to making smart-ass comments like that.
And if the baby’s not crawling yet? Where’s he going to go? He’ll be fine on the side of the road.
I blame Kaiser.
Been in Kaiser from both sides.
That wooshing windy sound?
Kaiser.
Kaiser is the wind beneath your amnesia.
My mother works for Kaiser, and has for about twenty years now.
She is being laid off next month, leaving my parents without health insurance or a major source of income.
Kaiser can quite honestly go fuck itself as far as I’m concerned.
Well that?
Is way fucking crappy news.
Dude. That’s a bummer.
You’re going to have to support them with your blogging riches, then?
That is some major suckitude.
Sending good thoughts their way.
Which is totally not as good as a paycheck.
I’m so so so sorry.
And you? Win the award for best words strung together in a comment for this . . .
Kaiser is the wind beneath your amnesia.
That should totally be their fucking slogan.
Whoa…that’s like the fourth time I’ve won!
I think I should get a big, gold, glitzy belt.
Or a sceptre. I think I could do some major damage with a sceptre.
But I’d be totally regal about it.
Love you, winning modest regal one.
“You know that feeling of being spread too thin?”
Yes. I think I might know something about that feeling. It’s the reason I get so very little sleep when Carter isn’t in school – I stay up till all hours (like right now) because I crave time alone more than I crave sleep.
I think Maj should answer the jerks who call her “tiny” by saying, “Yeah? Better short than a freakishly small head like yours, Stretch.”
Maj will be fine. Short and sassy (remember those commercials?) and all fine.
I feel like I might rip and tear.
And then sleep/slip into a depression for a long healing period of time.
I need less stress.
Soon.
This is so not your fault. Medical information is impossible to keep straight and is all slippery in the memory banks. I’ve been seeing a lot of doctors over the last few years and having tests and things. I’ll get a new doctor and they start asking me about my own medical history and I can’t keep anything straight. I’m all, “well there was that surgery in 2004…or 05…I don’t remember exactly.” What I do remember is the nice girl who put my hair in a french braid so I wouldn’t get a headache from that damn ponytail. So, you remember that Maj had a big head, but the numbers don’t really stick. Makes total sense to me!
I remember an enormous amount from Maj’s early life.
In excruciating detail.
Her length and weight? Were not my top concerns.
Sigh.
Just do what my mom does. Make it up. She had three kids. They all weighted exactly 8 lbs at birth. They were all born at 5:50 in the morning. They all walked at exactly 13 months. It seems that she has just combined the three of us into on baby. Which is fine. If you ask her anything about when you were small you know that there is a 33% chance she’s talking about you.
OK, your mom is awesome.
That is all.
Lori’s comment about Kaiser being the wind beneath your amnesia was AWESOME.
I have an excellent memory, however, I’m now finding that I can’t remember some things from the past. Fairly recent things, like the details from Buddy’s birth. I just read his birth story (I chronicled it after he was born) and was like, WHAT? Did it really happen in that order? Am I sure??
Also, Buddy is very small for his age. He’s almost 6 and is in the 5th percentile for height and weight. He’s about 42 inches tall and 35 lbs. Buster, my 2.5 year old is about 37 inches tall, and 30 lbs. Buddy wears a size 9.5 shoe (toddler size!), and Buster wears an 8. No one believes that they are 3.5 years apart.
I feel for you . . . that is going to be difficult as they get older.
Maj has had a hard time with her younger sister growing taller than she is.
You have had endocrinologists poking about as well, then?
No endo’s…yet. He was diagnosed as failure to thrive when he was about 3 years old, and we’ve been watching him closely since then.
His 6th b-day is next month and I have to schedule his check-up. I will probably ask again about his small stature, but I think they’ll probably wait to do anything until he is older.
I worry about the teen years…when everyone is taller and bigger.
Is it Maj that has the bad allergies? And if so, is she on steroid medications? Buddy has both food allergies and asthma, and apparently, the asthma meds he’s on can contribute to him being smaller.
Always the shortest? Yeah that was me. Total late bloomer here. And Maj remembers her peers from when she was 2? That’s impressive!! If my baby had ended up in the nicu right after birth I’d probably forget less than major details too. Do we get to know why she was in the nicu or is that top secret?
Not top secret, but I have not posted in detail about that time.
Hers was a difficult birth, and she had some problems. Among them was the fact that she aspirated meconium and got her umbilical cord wrapped around her neck multiple times.
She was not able to breathe at birth.
Well, thankfully, both of your girls are thriving individuals today.
Yes, Maj is able to inhale and then exhale her air in a loud and bossy fashion.
She is all thriving.
C’mon, we are supposed to remember all kinds of ridiculous shit or we are not good parents? I do not remember my children’s birth weight or length or even the freaking time they were born. That’s why you write things down, so you don’t have to remember them. I do remember, as I am sure you do, every detail of their birth. That’s what you are supposed to remember. Fuck the stupid doctor for making you feel inadequate. For crying out loud.
Oh, and thanks for reminding me I need to take my car to get an oil change. Although I better write that one down or I will forget again.
I just think it’s interesting that different people have different expectations regarding the memories of others.
Oil changes, though? No one is expected to remember those . . . that’s why they put that little mileage sticker in the window.
They don’t just do that for me, right?