How Do You Make 4 Year Old Pee in A Cup?

You know what's not fun? When you take your four year old son to the doctor for his health check up and they request a urine sample. So, being rather experienced with my personal history of asking people to pee on demand when I worked in a urology department, I don't think much at first-until we walk into the bathroom. I realize there is NO WAY my son would be able to hold two things at once (thank you to my dutiful husband who taught Deets how to point "things" in the right direction).  This, in addition to the explicit directions of: wiping himself with a cold antiseptic towelette, peeing into the toilet first, then catching some urine midstream for a "clean catch." Sure. Thanks lady-nurse.

I ask Deets whether he wants to stand up or sit down. He tries standing first, but then can't pee and switches his strategy. He sits and here I am, squatting close to the toilet with one arm hovering dangerously close to both exit holes, cup poised and ready. It occurs to me at this point, I just might get peed on or worse, because we all know what weird things doctor offices do to us. He takes what feels like for-ev-er to decide that he can't pee. Isn't it amazing the boundaries we share and cross sometimes? That's true love.

I got kicked out of the room for his hearing exam,
 because I was bothering him with my incessant photo taking.
Well played, Deets.

This may sound weird, but it was the first time in a looooooong time that I thought about the various difficulties some of my patients faced when they paid a visit to the urology office: peeing too much, peeing too little, peeing sideways, peeing weird colors... there was always something fascinating to learn working there. It made me think about how what seems like a simple task could turn into a huge obstacle for many people, and at that moment I felt the stress my patients must have felt. It was enough to make ME pee; and miss my job a little bit.

Anyway the doctor continued on with her lengthy health exam: measuring vital signs, vision and hearing tests followed by a scolding for his calcium intake, praise for his nap and reading times, and four vaccinations. My poor kid screamed like a teapot, but recovered well enough to eat two suckers and head off to summer school. It was the moment we arrived there that his bladder practically exploded; performance anxiety in its truest form!

Margo had her health check up last week and it doesn't take much to see how they are two totally different people: Deets at 25% for height and weight, with Margo at 90% & 75%.  Deets only outweighs his sister (younger by 2 years) by 4 pounds! Ah- the list of differences can go on...

Next week is my check up, only mention-worthy because we are in full swing of medical clearances before we head to Brazil. I wonder what fun things I will get to do all in the name of renewing a birth control prescription. Any guesses?! All I can say is, it's not fun.

Saying Goodbye Sucks

For Independence Day, I learned what southwest Missourians consider macaroni salad: noodles, hard boiled egg, black olives, pickles, mustard, mayo, and a pinch of paprika for color. It was a food I'd never tried before. We had the good fortune to join another family for dinner tonight because Mark had to leave town for a family illness where ironically, he flew to southwest Missouri. The whole dining experience was priceless because the girls who made the macaroni salad used a family-created recipe and they eat it every Independence Day, along with something called "raspberry salad" (tart raspberry gelatin, raspberry fruit, marshmallows) and my favorite vegetable: pork ribs- dry rubbed and roasted. It's pretty hardcore, but there's nothing like a good dose of comfort food when the going gets a little sad.

Mark's grandmother has been ill for some time but very recently stopped eating and drinking, spending very few moments, if any, awake. Thankfully hospice has been managing her care at home which means the family can keep her company and allow for a peaceful transition. Not that any of this makes it any easier to deal with the death of a loved one, but... it's something, and from what I know about my grandmother-in-law, this is how she rolls.  I am relieved that Mark could make it back in time to say his goodbyes and also to be the amazing pillar of support that he is to all of us. 

Needless to say, life here has been more serious and somber than usual. I feel selfish even mentioning other other aspects of my life in the same blog post of a dying relative, especially since I try to keep my writings upbeat and oh hell- a little bit funny. Then I realized that since I've avoided writing anything going on in my life, I don't sort out my thoughts and feelings well. Effectively, I become a different and cantankerous person. For this I owe my husband a big fat apology.  It seems then- the sad, boring, and unfunny parts are just as important as the ones with levity and joy.

So let's catch up in less than 100 words: Portuguese continues to challenge me mentally and emotionally. Physically too- when I get up from my chair, it's as if I've been riding a mechanical bull. I have five weeks left, and I will drag myself to the finish if I have to. Mark passed his Portuguese exam and started on the management leg of training.  We seem to be eating a lot of chicken lately. Oh- and the kids are copacetic. I spend my evenings reading stories, building space shuttles, and chasing after a girl who thinks clothes are always optional.

As I sit at my computer, listening to the fireworks explode and smelling the sulfurous smoke drifting in,  I've resolved to reflect on these past few weeks and settle my anxieties about crap that really doesn't matter in the long run. It's a sad yet momentous Independence Day and I am glad Mark's grandmother can spend one last 4th of July with the people who matter to her most. What I can do in return for her, is to remind her great-grandchildren about how crazy she was about them, and share memories of their earliest years: Time spent running around her house in circles while I had a heart attack they might break something (they did- she didn't care one bit), playing hide-n-seek in the closets, and enjoying the toys and $2.00 bills she always sent them for birthdays and holidays. There's definitely comfort in that too. Sweet Fran, you will be missed. 

Fran and David L. Schlink
Schlink wedding (3.12.2010)

Favorite gift from Great Grandma: rabbit for stew.
(4.2.2012)

Three generations of solid Schlink lineage

Plus one more great grandchild for trouble.

Great Falls Park: Our 60 Minute Quickie

Maybe I am weird, but there's something quite calming and therapeutic about watching water crash violently over rocks and cliffs, merciless for anything in its way. It's especially weird because I don't generally like water or getting wet.  But perhaps it is because the violence puts me in my place, forcing me to check in with my mortality. I love the intimidation and beauty of it all. Last weekend we went to Great Falls Park for a quick escape from the sludge of suburban life. Like, really quick- it took only a 15 minute drive to get there. After hopping off Highway 66, we gaped at gigantic mansions and their fancy manicured lawns, wondering about the large number of "For Rent" signs, when we found ourselves completely surrounded by thick green forest in a matter of minutes. 

Not pictured: Mom stomping her feet, impatient to see the water. 

We arrived at Great Falls Park shortly after 9:00 am before the crowds rushed in about an hour later. Even at the entrance we could hear the water's roar, which made me extra excited, almost panicky to see what I was missing as if the water might run out before we got there. Now for those not exactly into hiking, there are four observation points of the river, all close to the parking lot. I think the excursion alone to see Great Falls is worth the trip, but the park also has a good amount of hiking trails and a visitor center with (probably) knowledgable park rangers. While swimming is strictly prohibited here, we did see kayakers hanging out at the base of the falls too.  Deets and Margo seemed impressed, but were probably more amused my frantic gestures, pointing out all the cool things I saw: "Look a bridge! Look at the birds! Ooh- check out the flood sign!" I might need to get out more.  Sadly, my oldest turned into a pumpkin quicker than I had hoped, leaving little time to explore the grounds more but at least my curiosity was sated. We left in the nick of time as hundreds of vehicles lined up down the road for entry. Go if you ever need a quickie. 

Overhead with circling vultures, probably picking out their choices of tourists.  

Looking for kayakers.

Feels even more violent in black and white. 

VW: Sold! Mazda 3: Bought

For those who had bets on how long we'd last without a car in the US, it's time to cash in! We made it six months. The beloved VW that was bound for Brazil took a dramatic turn to the US after Brazilian authorities decided diesel cars were un-importable. It came back here instead where it was promptly ticketed by the Falls Church parking enforcers, due to not having plates on the car. Mark decided this $50 dollar ticket was worth the fight and after three visits to City Hall, they dropped the issue. 

The adventure continued as he navigated the vehicular laws of Virginia, three trips to two DMVs and paying $850 dollars in registration/taxes the car was ready to sell.  Luckily, our TDI went to a friend within a few weeks who hopefully will enjoy it as much as we did. Of course, we ended up replacing the missing parts that went in our HHE and will show up in Brazil this fall: a spare tire, jack, floor mats, trunk cover for several hundred dollars more. Meh- what can you do?

That said, the short week of car ownership was quite refreshing. Like awkward teens talking about the prom, Mark and I hid in bed one night and he asked if I kinda-sorta-maybe might be interested in buying a car for the summer. Already feeling like a mountain yeti, herding my children around in the bike trailer in pouring rain and raging spring winds, I was pretty thrilled with his acquiescence. So off to the Internet he went, searching for a new car and with two trips to the car dealership he ended up choosing a Mazda 3. I find this somewhat ironic considering the NYT chose it as a classic hipster purchase. (Mark denies any association with that label- says the man who rides a bamboo fixie with a messenger bag and sports one hell of a beard in the fall and winter...) 

At any rate, we got a car! I drove it to a newly found local beer garden today while reminiscing over 16 hour European road trips with two young children in our wagon. Wasn't it magical when we had to reverse of up a 15% grade incline on a cobble stoned road in Greece? Or how amazing was our VW when we crossed the Hungarian border with four tires on the brink of exploding? I know we will create new memories with this new car, but I think the VW will be hard to match. 

Giving it a test drive. 

Waxing and Waning of FSI Life

More than a few people in my life have shared their advice about managing stress during periods of change or difficulty. The more delicate folks said, "don't make any drastic decisions if you don't have to" while others sensibly suggested "don't do anything stupid." Well, we all know that is easier said than done. 

This past week was a little tougher than usual. Nothing significant happened other than dealing with the elation-depression cycle of seeing friends and family come and go. It's always the feeling of "didn't you just get here?" Class continued on at its usual warp speed but this week we learned the fourth out of God-knows-how-many-Portuguese-verb-tenses and I completed my first evaluation.  Not a super-mega fun time, but also no big deal. I did fine, yet oddly I found myself emotionally overwhelmed. Suddenly I couldn't engage in basic Portuguese or even English conversations; still no big deal-- logically I knew life would go on, but I started crying. I HATE crying. I am an ugly crier too. I get the type of swollen-face-blotch that takes days to go away and with the amount of tears and snot I shed, I also look dehydrated and listless. I will make a great zombie, come the day.

Ok then. I cried at school. I was stressed about small stuff, and even more stressed because I know there's an infinite amount of worse things in this world than stressing about my self centered feelings. So once more felt the urge to make a change; to do something drastic. When I don't feel like dealing with stress, usually the first thing I want to do is get a hair cut. To me, there's something satisfying about the sound of scissors cutting snippets of hair and watching it fall to the floor, and letting go of what little control I think I have. I've had many, many bad haircuts because of this, while knowing full well I shouldn't do anything drastic when stressed.

Did I get a hair cut? Not exactly. In the spirit of pending beach time, tropical weather and Brazilian beauty standards I felt the need to try something new. Knowing full well I could regret my decision, I marched (ok, skirted) into the salon for my first bikini wax. Can't say I felt too great about it as I stared wincingly at the ceiling, with visions of Steve Carrell seared into my brain- but I followed through. It's too soon to tell what my next move might be, but right now I'm thinking a traditional hair cut might be nice. Or maybe a pedicure.

Portuguese Class

To my surprise, the past few months of my life have involved extraordinary amounts of role playing, experimentation, and self study. I've been singing in public, developing intimate relationships with more people than my husband, and working on what I hope to be an improved worldly version of myself: After six weeks,  I'm ankle deep into a full body immersion of learning a foreign language. As many people already know, the Schlink's are bound for Recife, Brazil this fall and I've had the fortunate opportunity to take a full time, 24 week Portuguese class.

When I'm not trying to find my head from my ass, I am genuinely enjoying my time. I have about five hours of instruction per day, sprinkled with several hours of computer lab time.  My three classmates, all officers and all bound for Sao Paulo are remarkably tolerant of my bizarre sense of humor. I might even dare to say they like me. We spend a lot of time together stumbling through the language but what's cool, is how we bring different strengths to the table. One student has amazing comprehension, one has great accent and is very deliberate with speaking. The third has an intense dedication to learning and as for me- I am good at asking interesting questions and I can keep dialogue moving along.  Despite the obvious building of accents, sentence structures, and vocabulary skills, we act out plays, sing songs, play games and drink Brazilian cocktails sometimes. And, because we learn the language by talking about what we know, they know a lot about my family; and subsequently how boring my life has become since starting class.

Caprinhas: made with Cachaça, a distilled sugar cane juice,
açúcar e limão verde. It will knock your socks off.
Seriously. I don't have anymore socks.

In fact, one of the most "exciting" things in my life right now is when I record my voice while reading sentences in Portuguese. The lab is frequently stuffed with students practicing anything from Chinese to Amharic to Italian so it is essential to keep our voices low. We wear headsets that allow us to listen and speak our chosen language, so imagine ME whispering a grocery list into your ear with my husky Portuguese accent. Pretty disturbing isn't it? Every time I play back my recordings, I can't control myself; I feel like a 1-900 girl. Hopefully it will all be worth it in the end.

Making the decision to take a full time class wasn't one I made lightly. For weeks I agonized over education versus a triumphant return to nursing while back in the states. I missed being a financial contributor and wanted to dust off my scrub pants and feel like a real professional again. I missed playing with blood and guts, and taking care of patients. But after looking past the 8-10 month training period, Mark and I agreed language would better benefit my independence in Recife, and with luck I could get a job down there; maybe as a nurse, maybe not. We made our decision, designed a budget and a schedule to keep our lives somewhat in control and went for it. I don't regret it, though the student on the computer next to me might once he hears my grocery list in Portuguese.

Planes, Bikes and a Whiny Mom

Even though I usually enjoy my daily bike commute, for some reason Mark's suggestion to take a family ride simply felt exhausting this weekend. I whined for about 24 hours before I realized how ridiculous I sounded. So on the following morning, after I needlessly agonized over clothing selections (who looks good in cycling gear anyway?) we hooked up the trailer and took the kids down to Gravelly Point. The park, located 400 feet north of Reagan National Airport was once a landfill and is now a hugely popular stopping point along the Mount Vernon Trail. Trip Advisor ranks it 8th out of 32 Arlington attractions, even if there have been rat-sightings near the rocky shores of the Roaches Run Waterfowl Sanctuary.  But the huge grassy field, people watching, and plane sightings more than make up for it. Planes fly directly overhead onto the runway, sometimes as low as 100 feet and as often as every two minutes. 

Deets' reaction was extraordinary. He howled, cheered, and danced around; He climbed onto the picnic table trying to get just a little bit closer. Margo, though slightly confused chimed in too, affected by his enthusiasm. Before long he was mimicking the scene from Wayne's World, laying down on the table letting the planes come to him. I hadn't seem him that happy in a long time. It put my earlier protestations to shame and I resolved to pull my bike shorts out of the tight crevice I stuffed them into. As good as a hiding spot as I think it is.

Okay, okay- keep looking up!