Snow Days.
Snow days. Fond readers, I know some of you hail from as far away as Spain and Indiana (equally exotic to my east coast readers), but here in the Boston and environs, we are just trying to close the book on winter and mother nature--we should pause on that phrase and we will, I promise--keeps prying the pages back open, so that suddenly we are back in January and February, befuddled, looking up and saying wait, I already read this part.
At the end of last week, we had a resounding thump of heavy snow and serious winds, and we woke up on Thursday morning to a snow day from school and no power, which, as the hours crept by, became the sort of pickle which needs getting out from under, or through. As the afternoon darkened, we decided to decamp first to my sister's house in North Andover (her house being situated on a mysterious patch of land with its own sturdy power grid; we drove through eerie dark streets, through intersections where New Englanders were uncomfortably forced to rely on manners to get through as the traffic lights were not working, felled trees everywhere, down the winding streets of her development, where all the houses were dark, save for the houses owned by Scouts with generators, till we got to her lit up house, the yellow lights shining with warmth and welcome), and then, for the net two nights, to Great Wolf Lodge (having heard that the power would be out for the next five days, which turned out to be the next three, but no matter). Great Wolf Lodge--Kyle actually posted to facebook--when life gives you lemons--what a terrific idea, we will just go on vacation and take that, mother nature. Great Wolf Lodge does offer free cool water with lemons when you enter the cavernous building--for those of you who don't know what Great Wolf Lodge is, you could go google it, or, let's see--I suppose if it as if Chuck E. Cheese and J.W. Marriott, nope, and Chuck E. Cheese and ExtendedStay America got married too young and had a child, a great big, sprawling, money-eating, upsell of a child--but that lemon scented water is the last free thing at the resort, and the best thing on the menu at any of the five eating establishments within. That's right, five. Including a full Dunkin Donuts, so as you picture Great Wolf Lodge, assume that every group-up in each scene, has either a large iced coffee in his or her hand, or, a specialty cocktail from the restaurant, like the Orange You Glad I Said Banana cocktail (look it up, I'm not making this up).
Anyhow, I tried, people. Of course the boys were overjoyed. Having never been to Disney, I assume they now think that Disney is like the Great Wolf Lodge (I also have never been to Disney. I have one memory from Disneyland, circa 1969 or 1970, which is of riding on the haunted house ride and having my moving chair turned to face a mirror and discovering a smiling ghost was sitting next to me, which I assume was projected onto the mirror in some way--this was delightful to me then, and I'm not going to stretch the metaphor now to say that having cancer is like merrily going along for the ride and then suddenly realizing a ghost has been sitting next to you for how long? but it is tempting, as you can see).
Like I said, I tried. I tried to put my arch seriousness aside, and embrace the fun of having a hotel room with a carved out cave in it called the Wolf Den, where the boys had their own bunk bed and television (the kind with good old fashioned channels, which they discovered after trying to speak into the remote: "Find Netflix!" "Find Netflix!" (with apologies to Alison McLaughlin, the last hold out against the smart TV in America). The dinner we ordered was inedible, but that was my own fault, I thought, for being such a snooty foodie. (By the way, one of the losses we suffered during the storm and the ensuing loss of the contents of our fridge and freezer was not just all the frozen berries I insist on blending with kale, turmeric, algae, frankincense (more on that later too)--any of the semi-magical ingredients I now employ in my FIGHT AGAINST CANCER, but a gorgeous, expensive piece of halibut which Kyle had brought home the night before from Eataly, thinking snow day--great, Tracy will cook wondrous food in the kitchen while I work at my computer and the children nestle together in front of the fire, asking Netflix to find favorite movies like The Iron Giant (more on that later). We dragged that piece of halibut to my sister's house, and have I ever mentioned how different my sister and I are? Even before cancer? For example, every minute that I spend carefully toasting the almonds, making bread crumbs from homemade bread made with my sourdough starter (sob, another victim of the storm), pureeing tomatoes for marinara sauce, or churning homemade ice cream to add an icy, creamy extra dollop to the chocolate cake or the apple pie, my sister is running. She is running or biking or lifting weights--you've seen her here before--she is running for Dana Farber, she is riding the Pan Mass Challenge; that's her quiet rage against cancer and donations are always accepted. At any rate, I cooked that halibut at my sister's house, trying to make bread crumbs with a dull knife and a piece of toast, throwing in the garlic I brought from home (because you can't just pack for a power outage emergency and not bring staples like chopped garlic and creme fraiche (the creme fraiche still sits in my sister's refrigerator in North Andover, suspiciously peering out at her Muscle Milk and the canned cinnamon rolls for the kids, and the Lactaid milk), but I digress.
I tried.
And the kids had a delightful first day at Great Wolf Lodge--made possible completely by Miss Kim, who came out for the day and took the boys into the water, down the water slides, down the lazy river, into the basketball swim area where Elijah tried to shoot free throws from the four feet of warm water which was up to his shoulders, while I shivered on the side of the pool, ignoring the curious eyes of my fellow wolves, who sniffed at my almost bald head and looked away in pity or disgust because what kind of punk rocker am I with my close cropped hair and my Lands End tankini? And Miss Kim went home to her parents' house in Lowell, where the electricity ran freely, and night fell on the Great Wolf Lodge (for some, anyhow, for we could hear the noises from other dens where the wolves continued to frolic, perhaps engaging in one of the wine pairings the Lodge offered to deliver to your room (Lodge Private Label, $5.25 a glass, again--look it up, I'm just quoting). And at midnight, we awakened to a sound coming from our Wolf Den, the unmistakeable sound of Asher throwing up all over the bunk bed.And so the gradual transformation of room 1012 into an EPA Superfund site began.
Now, three days later, having witnessed the falling of both Asher and Elijah to Norovirus, picked up in the waters of the Great Wolf Lodge, I can say that the twins differ in their relationship to vomiting. Asher simply throws up and falls happily back asleep, in the vomit, just covered in it. Last night he literally fell asleep such that his head was simply caked with vomit (and I apologize, but this story just won't make sense unless you feel some of my pain). It's kind of sweet (and I recognize only a mother could say this) how much he wants to be asleep. Last night as I pushed him into the shower at midnight (our shower, for our power was indeed restored and we brought the Norovirus show home), he mildly protested, "But why, mom?" and then promptly fell asleep as I toweled him off. Elijah, on the other hand, rails against sickness. "I hate throwing up!'" he protested. "It isn't fair!" I'm with Elijah when it comes to unfairness and illness.
As we left the Great Wolf Lodge, pale, sick, shivering, we were passed by hordes of people checking into the place on Saturday night. These denizens of Great Wolf Lodge were like the alpha wolves of the place--most of them had obviously come before, because they had coolers of food in line with them, bright blue bags of Doritoes, and blue cases of Bud Light, and their children all had purchased the fuzzy wolf ears in the gift shop in the lobby, which come in only non-wolf colors like pink, and purple, and a green which was, now that you mention it, not unlike the pallor of our skin as we escaped back to Carlisle, where the coyotes are real, but you rarely hear of a wolf passing through.
My mother remarked that I seemed to be in fairly good spirits considering.
And I'm telling you, cancer keeps it real. All of this running around without power, unloading food from the fridges, and taking the dog to the kennel at the last minute, all the packing and unpacking, the load upon load of laundry filled with horrendous towels, the nights without sleep, and the terrible, terrible food--it really all was made okay by the fact that I was tremendously, terrifically alive. I was so glad to be there to pick the bedraggled kids up out of their beds and hold their feverish, terrifically stinky bodies close to mine, to comfort them while they were sick. I am so lucky to be here to make fun of the Great Wolf Lodge and its unbelievable prices and illness-inducing business plan.
Zachary is home visiting, and when he walked in through the door, the twins were over the top overjoyed to see him. I don't know if I have talked here about the extraordinary relationship between my older children and the twins--when I was pregnant, it was a little touch and go. No teenager really wants her mom to be pregnant with twins while he or she is in high school, let's be honest. But the last five, almost six years of life have been an object lesson in love--the two little boys worship their older brothers and sisters with remarkable ardor, and the older kids have leaned way in to take these little boys in and I am so grateful now for the complex puzzle of a family we have which allows for so much unexpected love. It makes me feel more at ease about dying, knowing that the twins have all of these older brothers and sisters who will take their hands and help them navigate their lives.
More on that later:
Mother Nature. I never have loved that phrase. Mothers and nature, sure. Mother Nature, that trickster weatherman's turn of phrase for treacherous weather patterns wreaking havoc with air traffic, brunch plans, baseball games, and power lines? Brother Nature, sure. But Mother Nature always seemed to denigrate both mothers and nature in one fell swoop,
Frankincense. When I first got cancer, I spent more time on the various websites where people with cancer wile away their time, asking for advice and telling each other terrible things, and someone wrote in to ask about frankincense (have I already told you about this? if so, smile and play along like you are interested) and how effective it is in the FIGHT AGAINST CANCER. I thought, what the? Frankincense? As in frankincense and myrrh? People, get a hold of yourselves. Is frankincense even a thing?
Yes. Yes it is. Frankincense oil is derived from the Boswellia tree in Africa and has a long history in myth and religion and folk medicine. It's one of the consecrated incenses used in the Temple in Jerusalem, and shows up all the time in the Bible, including, as I remembered it, as an offering made to the baby Jesus. Some people believe it may reduce inflammation and help fight cancer, especially breast cancer, although the research is extremely limited and preliminary. None of that matters when you have cancer--so of course there are frankincense supplements and people who religiously take it every day. Frankincense has not yet made it into my daily superstitious repertoire yet, like turmeric and chia seeds and kale, but I'm not here to judge anymore. Unless I'm at the Great Wolf Lodge, of course, where judging is the key to survival.
The Iron Giant. Hands down my favorite kids movie. It's an animated movie of the Ted Hughes Cold War fable--that's right, Ted Hughes, as in Sylvia Plath--and it is such a lovely anti-violence movie. There is a beatnik poet, and a single mom, and an enduring friendship between a robot and a boy that makes me weep every time I watch the movie. In the end, it is also a story of resurrection and sacrifice, like the story of Jesus. The iron giant gives up his life to save the humans and planet earth from nuclear destruction--I know this doesn't sound like a kids' movie but it is, trust me (have I steered you wrong yet? remember the chocolate cake recipe?)--and you think the lovely robot is gone forever, when, well, I won't spoil it, because I know you will watch this eventually. Let's just say that death is not final, and love carries the day, which I suppose, is why this is one of my favorites.
At the end of last week, we had a resounding thump of heavy snow and serious winds, and we woke up on Thursday morning to a snow day from school and no power, which, as the hours crept by, became the sort of pickle which needs getting out from under, or through. As the afternoon darkened, we decided to decamp first to my sister's house in North Andover (her house being situated on a mysterious patch of land with its own sturdy power grid; we drove through eerie dark streets, through intersections where New Englanders were uncomfortably forced to rely on manners to get through as the traffic lights were not working, felled trees everywhere, down the winding streets of her development, where all the houses were dark, save for the houses owned by Scouts with generators, till we got to her lit up house, the yellow lights shining with warmth and welcome), and then, for the net two nights, to Great Wolf Lodge (having heard that the power would be out for the next five days, which turned out to be the next three, but no matter). Great Wolf Lodge--Kyle actually posted to facebook--when life gives you lemons--what a terrific idea, we will just go on vacation and take that, mother nature. Great Wolf Lodge does offer free cool water with lemons when you enter the cavernous building--for those of you who don't know what Great Wolf Lodge is, you could go google it, or, let's see--I suppose if it as if Chuck E. Cheese and J.W. Marriott, nope, and Chuck E. Cheese and ExtendedStay America got married too young and had a child, a great big, sprawling, money-eating, upsell of a child--but that lemon scented water is the last free thing at the resort, and the best thing on the menu at any of the five eating establishments within. That's right, five. Including a full Dunkin Donuts, so as you picture Great Wolf Lodge, assume that every group-up in each scene, has either a large iced coffee in his or her hand, or, a specialty cocktail from the restaurant, like the Orange You Glad I Said Banana cocktail (look it up, I'm not making this up).
Anyhow, I tried, people. Of course the boys were overjoyed. Having never been to Disney, I assume they now think that Disney is like the Great Wolf Lodge (I also have never been to Disney. I have one memory from Disneyland, circa 1969 or 1970, which is of riding on the haunted house ride and having my moving chair turned to face a mirror and discovering a smiling ghost was sitting next to me, which I assume was projected onto the mirror in some way--this was delightful to me then, and I'm not going to stretch the metaphor now to say that having cancer is like merrily going along for the ride and then suddenly realizing a ghost has been sitting next to you for how long? but it is tempting, as you can see).
Like I said, I tried. I tried to put my arch seriousness aside, and embrace the fun of having a hotel room with a carved out cave in it called the Wolf Den, where the boys had their own bunk bed and television (the kind with good old fashioned channels, which they discovered after trying to speak into the remote: "Find Netflix!" "Find Netflix!" (with apologies to Alison McLaughlin, the last hold out against the smart TV in America). The dinner we ordered was inedible, but that was my own fault, I thought, for being such a snooty foodie. (By the way, one of the losses we suffered during the storm and the ensuing loss of the contents of our fridge and freezer was not just all the frozen berries I insist on blending with kale, turmeric, algae, frankincense (more on that later too)--any of the semi-magical ingredients I now employ in my FIGHT AGAINST CANCER, but a gorgeous, expensive piece of halibut which Kyle had brought home the night before from Eataly, thinking snow day--great, Tracy will cook wondrous food in the kitchen while I work at my computer and the children nestle together in front of the fire, asking Netflix to find favorite movies like The Iron Giant (more on that later). We dragged that piece of halibut to my sister's house, and have I ever mentioned how different my sister and I are? Even before cancer? For example, every minute that I spend carefully toasting the almonds, making bread crumbs from homemade bread made with my sourdough starter (sob, another victim of the storm), pureeing tomatoes for marinara sauce, or churning homemade ice cream to add an icy, creamy extra dollop to the chocolate cake or the apple pie, my sister is running. She is running or biking or lifting weights--you've seen her here before--she is running for Dana Farber, she is riding the Pan Mass Challenge; that's her quiet rage against cancer and donations are always accepted. At any rate, I cooked that halibut at my sister's house, trying to make bread crumbs with a dull knife and a piece of toast, throwing in the garlic I brought from home (because you can't just pack for a power outage emergency and not bring staples like chopped garlic and creme fraiche (the creme fraiche still sits in my sister's refrigerator in North Andover, suspiciously peering out at her Muscle Milk and the canned cinnamon rolls for the kids, and the Lactaid milk), but I digress.
I tried.
And the kids had a delightful first day at Great Wolf Lodge--made possible completely by Miss Kim, who came out for the day and took the boys into the water, down the water slides, down the lazy river, into the basketball swim area where Elijah tried to shoot free throws from the four feet of warm water which was up to his shoulders, while I shivered on the side of the pool, ignoring the curious eyes of my fellow wolves, who sniffed at my almost bald head and looked away in pity or disgust because what kind of punk rocker am I with my close cropped hair and my Lands End tankini? And Miss Kim went home to her parents' house in Lowell, where the electricity ran freely, and night fell on the Great Wolf Lodge (for some, anyhow, for we could hear the noises from other dens where the wolves continued to frolic, perhaps engaging in one of the wine pairings the Lodge offered to deliver to your room (Lodge Private Label, $5.25 a glass, again--look it up, I'm just quoting). And at midnight, we awakened to a sound coming from our Wolf Den, the unmistakeable sound of Asher throwing up all over the bunk bed.And so the gradual transformation of room 1012 into an EPA Superfund site began.
Now, three days later, having witnessed the falling of both Asher and Elijah to Norovirus, picked up in the waters of the Great Wolf Lodge, I can say that the twins differ in their relationship to vomiting. Asher simply throws up and falls happily back asleep, in the vomit, just covered in it. Last night he literally fell asleep such that his head was simply caked with vomit (and I apologize, but this story just won't make sense unless you feel some of my pain). It's kind of sweet (and I recognize only a mother could say this) how much he wants to be asleep. Last night as I pushed him into the shower at midnight (our shower, for our power was indeed restored and we brought the Norovirus show home), he mildly protested, "But why, mom?" and then promptly fell asleep as I toweled him off. Elijah, on the other hand, rails against sickness. "I hate throwing up!'" he protested. "It isn't fair!" I'm with Elijah when it comes to unfairness and illness.
As we left the Great Wolf Lodge, pale, sick, shivering, we were passed by hordes of people checking into the place on Saturday night. These denizens of Great Wolf Lodge were like the alpha wolves of the place--most of them had obviously come before, because they had coolers of food in line with them, bright blue bags of Doritoes, and blue cases of Bud Light, and their children all had purchased the fuzzy wolf ears in the gift shop in the lobby, which come in only non-wolf colors like pink, and purple, and a green which was, now that you mention it, not unlike the pallor of our skin as we escaped back to Carlisle, where the coyotes are real, but you rarely hear of a wolf passing through.
My mother remarked that I seemed to be in fairly good spirits considering.
And I'm telling you, cancer keeps it real. All of this running around without power, unloading food from the fridges, and taking the dog to the kennel at the last minute, all the packing and unpacking, the load upon load of laundry filled with horrendous towels, the nights without sleep, and the terrible, terrible food--it really all was made okay by the fact that I was tremendously, terrifically alive. I was so glad to be there to pick the bedraggled kids up out of their beds and hold their feverish, terrifically stinky bodies close to mine, to comfort them while they were sick. I am so lucky to be here to make fun of the Great Wolf Lodge and its unbelievable prices and illness-inducing business plan.
Zachary is home visiting, and when he walked in through the door, the twins were over the top overjoyed to see him. I don't know if I have talked here about the extraordinary relationship between my older children and the twins--when I was pregnant, it was a little touch and go. No teenager really wants her mom to be pregnant with twins while he or she is in high school, let's be honest. But the last five, almost six years of life have been an object lesson in love--the two little boys worship their older brothers and sisters with remarkable ardor, and the older kids have leaned way in to take these little boys in and I am so grateful now for the complex puzzle of a family we have which allows for so much unexpected love. It makes me feel more at ease about dying, knowing that the twins have all of these older brothers and sisters who will take their hands and help them navigate their lives.
More on that later:
Mother Nature. I never have loved that phrase. Mothers and nature, sure. Mother Nature, that trickster weatherman's turn of phrase for treacherous weather patterns wreaking havoc with air traffic, brunch plans, baseball games, and power lines? Brother Nature, sure. But Mother Nature always seemed to denigrate both mothers and nature in one fell swoop,
Frankincense. When I first got cancer, I spent more time on the various websites where people with cancer wile away their time, asking for advice and telling each other terrible things, and someone wrote in to ask about frankincense (have I already told you about this? if so, smile and play along like you are interested) and how effective it is in the FIGHT AGAINST CANCER. I thought, what the? Frankincense? As in frankincense and myrrh? People, get a hold of yourselves. Is frankincense even a thing?
Yes. Yes it is. Frankincense oil is derived from the Boswellia tree in Africa and has a long history in myth and religion and folk medicine. It's one of the consecrated incenses used in the Temple in Jerusalem, and shows up all the time in the Bible, including, as I remembered it, as an offering made to the baby Jesus. Some people believe it may reduce inflammation and help fight cancer, especially breast cancer, although the research is extremely limited and preliminary. None of that matters when you have cancer--so of course there are frankincense supplements and people who religiously take it every day. Frankincense has not yet made it into my daily superstitious repertoire yet, like turmeric and chia seeds and kale, but I'm not here to judge anymore. Unless I'm at the Great Wolf Lodge, of course, where judging is the key to survival.
The Iron Giant. Hands down my favorite kids movie. It's an animated movie of the Ted Hughes Cold War fable--that's right, Ted Hughes, as in Sylvia Plath--and it is such a lovely anti-violence movie. There is a beatnik poet, and a single mom, and an enduring friendship between a robot and a boy that makes me weep every time I watch the movie. In the end, it is also a story of resurrection and sacrifice, like the story of Jesus. The iron giant gives up his life to save the humans and planet earth from nuclear destruction--I know this doesn't sound like a kids' movie but it is, trust me (have I steered you wrong yet? remember the chocolate cake recipe?)--and you think the lovely robot is gone forever, when, well, I won't spoil it, because I know you will watch this eventually. Let's just say that death is not final, and love carries the day, which I suppose, is why this is one of my favorites.
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