I recently went to the dentist and the hygienist and I were talking about floss, she usually lets you pick your preferred brand to go home with. I mentioned that I'm quite partial to the Oral B Ultra Floss. She confided in me that they were having a hard time getting it lately. Perhaps they are discontinuing it? Perhaps while I'm out I should stock up?
Immediately my mind went to that Seinfeld episode. Hmm..I only had soup today, maybe I should save the floss for tomorrow night when we are going to the movies. there could be popcorn...
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Death
We had a close call today with our beloved pet Dora-guy (remember, it's with the French pronunciation...) Today Smith decided it was time to clean her big beautiful bowl. He had her camped out in a temporary bowl during the dirty work. Then came the moment to transfer her back into her clean home. Well. Dora-guy must have wings because she jumped from the small jar out into the sink and down the garbage disposal.
And then there was a few expletives.
What seemed like 5 minutes later, Smith's arm is down the disposal after having cleared away all those Sunday morning dishes we had yet to do, literally fishing her out. Thankfully she survived. But man was it tense there for awhile! Whew! The kids could totally sense it and were upset.
And it didn't feel any easier despite my presence at a wonderful parenting seminar hosted by the founder of Nbear's school: talking to children about death and dying. One big reason I love this school so much is the parent education that is offered. I figured the room would be packed. I mean, who doesn't want to be prepared for this "biggie?!" Well. I guess a lot of folks. Even in Donna's handout she joked that it is the least attended of all of her talks. We are a culture that is afraid of dealing with real death. Fake movie/tv/murder mystery novel death? (and who doesn't love a good zombie movie now and then?) We're all over that. But the real stuff, we shy far far away from.
When we lived in Vancouver, there was a series that ran in the Sunday paper. A writer was chronicling the last year (he presumed) in the life of this youngish woman with terminal stomach cancer. He followed her diagnosis, the stages of her treatment and disease, her good days, her totally lousy days, the fights with her doctor, the response of her friends, her feelings, her pain, her acceptance, the complete denial of others and finally her death. It was a wonderful glimpse into something that is very real and for many of us, very foreign. This woman was so honest with her feelings and the writer so forthright with presenting it. Her story was a gift to me - a deeper understanding of the feelings one may have toward the end of life.
After the parent seminar, I ended up in an unusually long phone conversation about death with my parents. Each described some key memories in their life in relation to someone's death. It was very interesting to hear how each of their families treated the subject, and to hear their responses and feelings as children. At the start of the seminar, Donna had us remember an experience (old or recent) when we felt like someone wasn't giving us the whole story. It was an excellent prelude into the topic, because kids can feel like they aren't getting the "whole story" in the way most of us talk to them about death. For example, even the simple euphemisms that are used to talk about someone's dying: he slipped away in his sleep, we lost grandma, aunt flo passed away... it's very confusing to a kid. If I get lost does that mean I'm going to die? What does it really mean to die?
Anyway. The highlights of the talk (and forgive me if some of it sounds less "gentle" in tone, these are just some of my notes):
- Use every opportunity that presents itself to talk about the little details of death. Dead bug? note how stiff its body is. Roadkill? talk about the smell of death and how that is nature at work. A pet dies? Have the whole family participate in whatever ritual to say good bye - be it a burial, a scrapbook memorial or writing in a diary. All these little bits and pieces of information over time will make it easier for them to understand when a beloved person dies. And maybe you won't have to explain exactly what happens to great uncle fred's body when he dies, while you are in the midst of your grief.
- Talk about death as a natural cycle of life. Everything that is alive is born, lives and dies.
- Talk about grief and sadness being normal and okay feelings. You don't have to hide your tears from them to "protect" them. They will only think you are hiding something and be hurt and confused. Also let them know that those feelings will get less and less painful over time, but the memory of that person will remain with them.
- Talk to kids about what to expect from a funeral or burial if they want to go - from the flowers, to the casket, to what is expected for them to do or not do. They are curious, let them be prepared (before you get there.)
that's it in a nutshell, not so hard really, was it? Do you feel better prepared or still scared?
And then there was a few expletives.
What seemed like 5 minutes later, Smith's arm is down the disposal after having cleared away all those Sunday morning dishes we had yet to do, literally fishing her out. Thankfully she survived. But man was it tense there for awhile! Whew! The kids could totally sense it and were upset.
And it didn't feel any easier despite my presence at a wonderful parenting seminar hosted by the founder of Nbear's school: talking to children about death and dying. One big reason I love this school so much is the parent education that is offered. I figured the room would be packed. I mean, who doesn't want to be prepared for this "biggie?!" Well. I guess a lot of folks. Even in Donna's handout she joked that it is the least attended of all of her talks. We are a culture that is afraid of dealing with real death. Fake movie/tv/murder mystery novel death? (and who doesn't love a good zombie movie now and then?) We're all over that. But the real stuff, we shy far far away from.
When we lived in Vancouver, there was a series that ran in the Sunday paper. A writer was chronicling the last year (he presumed) in the life of this youngish woman with terminal stomach cancer. He followed her diagnosis, the stages of her treatment and disease, her good days, her totally lousy days, the fights with her doctor, the response of her friends, her feelings, her pain, her acceptance, the complete denial of others and finally her death. It was a wonderful glimpse into something that is very real and for many of us, very foreign. This woman was so honest with her feelings and the writer so forthright with presenting it. Her story was a gift to me - a deeper understanding of the feelings one may have toward the end of life.
After the parent seminar, I ended up in an unusually long phone conversation about death with my parents. Each described some key memories in their life in relation to someone's death. It was very interesting to hear how each of their families treated the subject, and to hear their responses and feelings as children. At the start of the seminar, Donna had us remember an experience (old or recent) when we felt like someone wasn't giving us the whole story. It was an excellent prelude into the topic, because kids can feel like they aren't getting the "whole story" in the way most of us talk to them about death. For example, even the simple euphemisms that are used to talk about someone's dying: he slipped away in his sleep, we lost grandma, aunt flo passed away... it's very confusing to a kid. If I get lost does that mean I'm going to die? What does it really mean to die?
Anyway. The highlights of the talk (and forgive me if some of it sounds less "gentle" in tone, these are just some of my notes):
- Use every opportunity that presents itself to talk about the little details of death. Dead bug? note how stiff its body is. Roadkill? talk about the smell of death and how that is nature at work. A pet dies? Have the whole family participate in whatever ritual to say good bye - be it a burial, a scrapbook memorial or writing in a diary. All these little bits and pieces of information over time will make it easier for them to understand when a beloved person dies. And maybe you won't have to explain exactly what happens to great uncle fred's body when he dies, while you are in the midst of your grief.
- Talk about death as a natural cycle of life. Everything that is alive is born, lives and dies.
- Talk about grief and sadness being normal and okay feelings. You don't have to hide your tears from them to "protect" them. They will only think you are hiding something and be hurt and confused. Also let them know that those feelings will get less and less painful over time, but the memory of that person will remain with them.
- Talk to kids about what to expect from a funeral or burial if they want to go - from the flowers, to the casket, to what is expected for them to do or not do. They are curious, let them be prepared (before you get there.)
that's it in a nutshell, not so hard really, was it? Do you feel better prepared or still scared?
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Overheard from the back seat...
"LOOKT! LOOKT! A bunk bed truck!"
"NOOO, (drawn out name as pronounced by big brother) that's a FLAT bed truck!"
"NOOO, (drawn out name as pronounced by big brother) that's a FLAT bed truck!"
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
What'd you call me?
Oftentimes when I meet someone new, they ask what name I go by.
For me, that feels like a loaded question. How long will I know you? What will our relationship be? For it seems that at different points in my life and at different levels of intimacy, I am called different things. And each iteration has a different meaning for me. Am I unique in this regard?
I guess my name offers a lot of possibilities. I am Kristina Marie Kaczmarek Holt. A lovely mouthful.
Kristina after a woman friend that was kind to my dad when he was young. (thankfully she was not also named Jedwiga. If you haven't heard the Jedwiga story, email me.) Marie after my mother. Kaczmarek because that's the name my relatives in the old country took after their own last name had come into some sort of disgrace. The story is vague. And Holt because I married one.
When I was little, friends and teachers called me Kris. Hardly ever Kristina.
My mom and dad used to call me Punkin or the Punk when I was young. The rest of my family calls me Krissy. When I call a relative and announce "Hi! It's Kristina" I get a silent pause at the other end before I have to interject "I mean Krissy." I think there is only one person outside of my family who calls me Krissy. But I've known her since I counted my years in the single digits. She's family. Also? When she's feeling sarcastic? She calls me Prissy. That's okay. That's when I call her Jennifart.
When I moved from New York to Texas in my tender middle school years the familiar, comfortable Kris was eclipsed by Kristy. Or Kristine (choosing my own spelling here...) That last "a" sound seemed like a terribly hard leap for those spandex wearing southern teachers. In NY, I was the only one in my school (all 6 grades) that had that name. Now I shared it with a ripe half dozen of those variations in each class.
One middle school teacher only addressed us by last names. Can you guess if he was a full-fledged teacher or just a part-time coach posing as a teacher? Yeah. Anyway. He seemed incapable? uninterested? in getting my last night right so just ended up calling me Kaz-i-Mizzer-ak. Until I started responding with a bastardized version of his last name. I seem a little taken aback now that I had the huevos to call him Mr. Grifag to his face. But I did. If I was a boy? I have the strong sense that it would have earned me a POP outside in the hall, but I was a girl, and you couldn't POP a girl. Yeah sexism!
The summer before my freshman year of high school, I randomly met a super cute guy at a Bryan Adams concert at Astroworld. How lucky was I to learn that he was a dreamy senior varsity football player from my very own high school? And yes, he remembered me when school started. Even talked to me when he saw me in the halls DESPITE the fact that he was dating one of the twin cheerleaders. Heather I think? And even sweeter? Whenever they would play a Bryan Adams song at a dance or homecoming? he'd come find me to dance with. He called me "Cashmere" (that football playing last name thing again) which sort of rhymed with my last name, but isn't that sort of endearing? I'm sure he had never seen my name spelled out, and only heard me pronounce it maybe twice. I didn't press the issue. I didn't really care what he called me.
A little while after that, I started working at a college radio station. I needed an "air name." Avoiding the whole Kris/Kristina/Kristy/Kristine thing altogether, I went with Kazy. There are a good handful of people who ONLY know me by that name, including the family of my best friend at the time: Tina (coincidentally, she was a Christine by birth. She went by Tina. Why didn't I think of that?)
My batch of friends at PVA would call me Krispy or Krispy-tina. I can't really remember exactly why. Sitting outside at lunch, I was the most likely to get burned (crispy fried), while everyone else seemed to get a tan. (or in the case of lizard, really really really tan.) I also got called Elizabeth a fair number of times. In the media department, there were many girls and many of us blond and many named Elizabeth. A friend started calling me KEK - giving me the honorary middle name of Elizabeth.
In Australia, the pronunciation of Kristina is more like Kristiner. As heard in the oft spoken phrase "Kristiner'll have another pint of VB." After awhile though, my pub buddies called me Tex though, for my drawl. Seemed funny to me, sort of sacrilegious being born in NY and all.
When I started working, Kris seemed like a more professional version of my name. When I got married, Kristina seemed to work better with my new short last name (which I still have to spell out for new people. I traded in the long name to stop the spelling!) Now I'm happy to hear mom.
So what do I go by? It's really more about what another person is comfortable with. I'll answer to whatever you want to call me, just as long as you call me.
Did I miss any?
[AH Yes! Bud (also not his real name) reminded me of another "rhymes with kaczmarek" nickname that I he bestowed upon me: car-wreck.]
Monday, March 10, 2008
Marathon Woman
!!! At this point, I will excuse any of the male readers in my audience from reading the following post. I don't mind if you do, but you just may feel a little too close to me towards the end of this. I will also refrain from using any of the euphemisms listed here. A decidedly male list...
note: all of MY lame euphemisms will be italicized. just for fun.
(this might also excuse you dad, despite the fact that you are my unsung hero for trotting out in the middle of some remote spot in Thailand to fetch feminine supplies because I had a surprise visit from my girlfriend*. A place where the "bathroom" was a hole in the ground and the added "traveler's convenience" of a bucket of water was not going to cut it for this time of the month. I don't know where you got them, or how you, gigantic white germanic male, communicated with the tiny asian female shopkeepers (where there actually SHOPS there??? How FAR did you have to WALK with these hummers???) about what you needed, but thank you!)
And thanks to Sinda, of course where would I be without her? My life has changed. I am now tracking OTR time on ye olde mymonthlycycles.com. Yes. On the internet. I laughed at her at first. But then I thought about my rather vague system of keeping track... which was little more than my "oh crap! has it really been a month already?" So why not step up to the internet! They send me a gracious email reminder that the big week is coming up and isn't it nice to be prepared, instead of unpleasantly surprised?
The other lovely feature is you can look at your cycle history. So you can answer intelligently when your gynecologist pointedly asks you about such details. (Shh. don't tell, but before now? I just guessed.)
So in February, I had a sad moment when looking at my chart. In the short month of February, there were only 11 days when I was not visiting Aunt Flo. sigh.
But wait! There's more! When I went out to the movies the other night with Sinda, I could celebrate the end of the longest cycle in my entire life:
FIFTEEN DAYS.
yes.
In a row. You can totally see how I could think, "gee. if I could somehow manage to get pregnant by next month, I SO wouldn't have to deal with this. That's like 2 years, pad-free!"
The last tomato in the face here? the google search resulting in this. Normal. Perimenopause. Thanks for making me feel crampy AND old. She is SO NOT my girlfriend.
*a euphemism from my grandma Dell. Upon learning the news of my first steps toward womanhood, she immediately went outside to proudly shout across the street to Mary & Bea that "Krissy got her girlfriend!!"
note: all of MY lame euphemisms will be italicized. just for fun.
(this might also excuse you dad, despite the fact that you are my unsung hero for trotting out in the middle of some remote spot in Thailand to fetch feminine supplies because I had a surprise visit from my girlfriend*. A place where the "bathroom" was a hole in the ground and the added "traveler's convenience" of a bucket of water was not going to cut it for this time of the month. I don't know where you got them, or how you, gigantic white germanic male, communicated with the tiny asian female shopkeepers (where there actually SHOPS there??? How FAR did you have to WALK with these hummers???) about what you needed, but thank you!)
And thanks to Sinda, of course where would I be without her? My life has changed. I am now tracking OTR time on ye olde mymonthlycycles.com. Yes. On the internet. I laughed at her at first. But then I thought about my rather vague system of keeping track... which was little more than my "oh crap! has it really been a month already?" So why not step up to the internet! They send me a gracious email reminder that the big week is coming up and isn't it nice to be prepared, instead of unpleasantly surprised?
The other lovely feature is you can look at your cycle history. So you can answer intelligently when your gynecologist pointedly asks you about such details. (Shh. don't tell, but before now? I just guessed.)
So in February, I had a sad moment when looking at my chart. In the short month of February, there were only 11 days when I was not visiting Aunt Flo. sigh.
But wait! There's more! When I went out to the movies the other night with Sinda, I could celebrate the end of the longest cycle in my entire life:
FIFTEEN DAYS.
yes.
In a row. You can totally see how I could think, "gee. if I could somehow manage to get pregnant by next month, I SO wouldn't have to deal with this. That's like 2 years, pad-free!"
The last tomato in the face here? the google search resulting in this. Normal. Perimenopause. Thanks for making me feel crampy AND old. She is SO NOT my girlfriend.
*a euphemism from my grandma Dell. Upon learning the news of my first steps toward womanhood, she immediately went outside to proudly shout across the street to Mary & Bea that "Krissy got her girlfriend!!"
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