jaysaint

8 Mar

Bedtime Routine

Posted by jaysaint in Alden. 2 Comments

I’m on a business trip. That means Damon’s on his own with the boys for a few days. He just texted me to let me know that Alden’s bedtime demands were epic. When I asked him to tell me more, this was his transcription of what Alden wanted:

— to spin around while music played

— two separate glasses of water

— Elliot to leave

— Damon to leave

— Breakfast bar

— Pirate story

— unlimited access to iPad

— Elliot to leave

— a burger

— unlimited amount of time to climb the blanket box

— Damon to leave

It is no small wonder that Damon’s hauling them to his Mom’s house as soon as school gets out tomorrow.

3 Mar

Sunday Dinner: Asparagus Vinaigrette

Posted by jaysaint in Alden wouldn't eat it, Sunday Dinner. Leave a Comment

Things got crazy in the run up to the holidays. I cranked through a few more recipes, but didn’t get to writing about them. Then Alden got sick on the first of January. I don’t think I’ve cooked a meal since.

My life list languishes, cobwebby and neglected. I don’t want that to happen to this recipe project.

Today something simple, hand-written on an unlined index card.

Asparagus Vinaigrette (serves 4)

1lb asparagus

3T olive oil

1T wine vinegar

1/2-1tsp Dijon mustard (I use a heaping half)

Heat a little water in a large skillet. Bring to a boil. Add asparagus & cover. Simmer 5-8 min til “crisp” tender. remove, rinse in cold water. Drain & pat dry. Set on platter & drizzle dressing over.

Dressing: Combine vinegar, mustard, salt & pepper. Gradually whisk in oil.

Serve hot, room

It’s not my dad’s handwriting. Possibly it came from his sister, my Aunt Pat. It’s the kind of thing I saw regularly on the table. Dad loved asparagus.

2 Mar

In a Nutshell

Posted by jaysaint in Uncategorized. 1 Comment

In the last hour I have heard the following:

“Mommy, my new rule is that whenever I touch you I have to stop and hug and kiss you.”

“Wanna fight?”

17 Feb

All Clear

Posted by jaysaint in Uncategorized. 9 Comments

Two days ago I walked through the B concourse of the Cincinnati airport while leaving a message with the doctor’s office saying, “Please do not make me get on this plane without hearing his MRI results.” My boss and colleagues have been the soul of flexibility with us, but I could not hold off the travel any longer.

I futzed with my bag (which was actually a pet carrier because that’s the kind of awesome planner I am.), ordered a drink I then ignored, checked my email, stared at a magazine. The nurse called. Alden’s MRI was normal. What that means is all the most horrifying words I’d heard doctors say over the last month and a half — starting with leukemia and ending at brain tumor — were off the table. I did not think he had a brain tumor. I would have insisted that clearing it was just a formality. I mean, I was already at the airport ready to fly away. Obviously I didn’t think he had a brain tumor. Except I must have feared it more than I was willing to admit. Because when she told me that I felt as profound a relief as I have ever felt. More than I thought was possible. Knots in my chest — the thick kinds you see on ropes in a boat — just let go and I found all this extra space in my lungs. I was dizzy.

I am so grateful. So so grateful. That word isn’t good enough. I don’t know what is. So many families get a different call. We could have gotten horrible, life-destroying news at several turns in this and every time it went another way. There’s no reason but luck. God, the universe, karma isn’t more effective in our lives than anyone else. We don’t love our kids more than other parents. We didn’t try harder than other parents. Alden isn’t stronger than other kids. It is profoundly humbling to be on the right side of fortune.