All Drains Lead To The Ocean.

Shitting Me.

14 November 2008

-That I've completely acclimated to Australian food, especially dairy, so all the things I was looking forward to being able to have in America again... I'm going to hate. Nothing will be as I remember it and I'm not even going to be able to enjoy a Starbucks.

-The exchange rate. It totally sucks.

-The whole in-law thing.
1. My sister is sleeping with my brother-in-law. Umm... EWW. Tell me that doesn't sound incestuous. I know they're married but... it's just wrong.
2. What about Melyssa's brother's wife? He's my brother-in-law, but what is she? My sister-in-law? Or nothing at all? And what's her family to me, or Melyssa?

-As overwhelming as the feeling of coming home is... eventually it all becomes bittersweet as you realize that everything has, and is still continuing to, moving on without you. I think it will be extremely apparent that this is where I belong, making the whole trip a bit anti-climatic.

-Not quite mobile children. Especially ones who spend all day rolling back and forth across the room but once they're in bed cry because they can't remember how to get off their tummy. How do you explain to a 4 month old that 10 minutes doesn't count as a nap and they need to stop doing push ups and go back to sleep?

-My accent hasn't changed at all, so no one will know I've been in Australia unless I tell them. Albeit, I haven't really tried to change it, just my vocabulary, but I can't even fake it. It's nowhere close.

-The fact that I love my cheapo toothbrush way more than my handy dandy cool electrical one.

-Children for whom nothing works twice when trying to get them to sleep. It's so bad it makes me feel guilty for asking my mother to babysit, ever, whilst we're in America.

-The weather on Sunday in LA is supposed to be 94 degrees. That's 34 celsius. And even though it's almost summer here... we've made sure we bought Kylan a bunch of winter clothes for America. Apparently, all for nothing.

11:06 AM

Emily.

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Desperation at it's Finest.

08 November 2008

The last 2 weeks or so Kylan's napping and sleeping abilities have been slowly going downhill.

We thought it was just a growth spurt, or teething, or just a change in routine as he got older.

Then it got worse.

He started crying every time he was put down in his cot, or every time we walked out of his room. Last night he cried from 7-9:30pm only stopping when I read to him, or held him, or talked to him.

We tried everything.

Google.

The baby whisperer.

Reading.

Rocking.

Singing.

Crying it out.

Bathes.

Routines.

Watching his cues, responding promptly, making sure we were in his 'sleep window'.

We've spent many a night where we've considered letting him stay asleep in his carseat, putting the monitor in the car, and locking the doors.

The only thing that has worked consistently for us to feed him to sleep which was just making the problem worse. It meant he was relying on us to put him to sleep, and resulted in him waking up crying when we weren't there instead of waking up peacefully.

The cot has become a war-zone... as we knew it would eventually.

I don't know if this is better or worse than a friend of mine who refused to sleep until she saw the "Chicky Lights."

Translate that into toddler, and it meant she refused to sleep until her parents would drive her to the local KFC to see the lit up sign.

But hey, at least it was consistent and it meant she slept.

As the nights pass, and cries change to smiles the second he sees us, it's becoming more apparent that our little 4 month old has developed a new skill... manipulation.

But the tide may be turning...

This morning I was reminded of the little star nightlight/lullaby cot companion we had. After the batteries ran out a few months ago we forgot about it.

Unfortunately, it turns out it wasn't the batteries, but the whole thing shat itself.

Like any desperate parent would let that stop them...

I went MacGuiver on it's ass.

Behold.

Oh yes, that's a cell phone!

I took Melyssa's old cell phone which still had some of her old music on it, created a quick playlist of Melissa Etheridge and Missy Higgins, MacGuivered it to his cot and would you believe it? It worked.

He just layed there. I walked in and out of the room, he couldn't have cared less.

I heard a little whine when the music ended... and then nothing for another hour.

Thank god for the endless useless capabilites of handheld objects which never do the one thing you want them for... until you get rid of them.

3:51 PM

Emily.

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Heartbroken.

07 November 2008

I truly do not understand.

I woke up this morning and I can no longer get married.

Imagine waking up tomorrow and finding out that you can no longer dream about your wedding, you can no longer plan your wedding, you can no longer have any hope of getting married, or you are no longer married at all.

Because of your race.

Because one of you is military.

Because of the color of your hair.

Because you've already been divorced.

Because your neighbours don't like you.

Because the guy in the shop on the corner doesn't like your partner.

Because the person you love doesn't meet someone else's standards.

Now imagine telling your child why they may not be able to get married one day. Explaining to your child why you can never be married. Why you don't 'deserve' to get married.

Discrimination is the word that comes to my mind.

If this happened to another group of people they'd run riot. They'd be on the steps of the White House. They'd stage protests. It would make national headlines and "DISCRIMINATION" would be shouted from the rooftops.

But I'm gay, so my opinion doesn't matter.

It's ok to take away my rights.

It's ok to tell me that I don't deserve the same rights you do.

It's ok to tell me I'm separate, not equal.

All because I'm in love. Happily. Starting my own family. Paying my taxes. Your average law-abiding citizen in a loving and respecting relationship... who dared to love your son or daughter... but not the one you wanted me to.

It was one thing when we never had the right. I get that. Change sucks. 'What if' always get blown out of proportion. You needed time to come around to it, to get used to the idea, to think about it.

Everyone has the right to think through their own decisions.

And everyone has the right to their own opinions.

I respect that.

But gay marriage was legal for 6 months. Did you even notice? Did you remember? Did it affect you in any way?

What about your own relationship? For the last 6 months have you felt invalidated? Threatened? Has your own relationship been affected directly, or indirectly, through a few more people getting married?

I just don't get it.

I'm sure you have friends where you don't like their spouses. I'm sure you have family where you don't like your in-laws. Do you believe you should have the right to tell them that they're not allowed to legally be married because of that? Should someone tell you you can't be married because they don't like you or your partner?

What about murderers and prisoners? They lose their consititutional right to vote, their right to bear arms... but they can still get married even when they're on death row. Why them and not me?

I'm not naive. I know one day my son will come to me and ask why he has 2 mommies when his friend has a mom and a dad. But I can answer that honestly and truthfully. I can explain to him openly, with no reservations, that not everyone has 2 parents. That some people have a mom and a dad. Some people have just a mom, or just a dad. Some people don't have any parents, but they have foster parents, or grandparents, or step parents. Some people have two moms and two dads, and sometimes those moms or dads live together. All that matters is that they have someone who loves them. That's what makes a family.

But what do I say when he asks me why his mommies aren't married?

Because some people don't like us? Because some people think we're inately wrong and don't even deserve to have a son? Because some people think we should be discriminated against because we shouldn't love each other?

God forbid he be taught either at home or in school acceptance and equality to all people.

I just don't get it.

I don't understand how we can go from slavery to a black president, but not from two consenting adults who love each other, to two consenting adults who love each other.

I don't understand what makes someone else better than me.

I don't understand what makes someone else more qualified to be married than me.

I don't understand what qualifications someone else has to tell me who I can love.

I don't understand.

2:33 PM

Emily.

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AUSSIEAUSSIEAUSSIE! OY! OY! OY!

06 November 2008

While I really want to rant about how heartbreaking I find California's decision... not only has Melyssa beaten me to it, but there's news that trumps it.

Immigration just called.

I'm officially approved!

The paperwork is in the mail, she sent it pretty much the second she received Kylan's documents and I am now an official Temporary Resident of Australia!!!

That means in 2 years, if Melyssa and I are still together, I get Permanent Residency!

And then, if I want it, Citizenship!

I can stay!

Ok, I really never doubted that I'd be able to stay, but nonetheless, I'm staying!

Legally!

Yipee!

*The "official" 'Go Aussie!' type cheer for Olympics, World Cup, Australia Day, etc.

2:33 PM

Emily.

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The Big C.

04 November 2008

Years ago I remember my parents mentioning offhand that the daughter of one of my teachers had been diagnosed with skin cancer after scratching a mole. I knew scratching it didn't cause the cancer, probably just lead her to the doctor, but I didn't think much of it except that she wasn't much older than I was.

Until a year or two later when my parents told me she had died.

From a mole.

A few years ago I woke up to find that a mole on my shoulder was bleeding. I didn't waste any time and immediately called the dermatologist. I went in to get it checked a few days later and the Dr was surprised that it was the only reason I had come in. She said the mole was completely normal and I, or my cats, must have scratched it in my sleep.

After I got home that night I realized I should have asked her to check me completely while I was there and decided to check myself. I found a few moles that looked differently from the others, and one on my leg that I noticed. I can't say why I noticed it, I can't say why it was different, I just noticed it. But since I'd just been to the dermatologist that day, I felt silly to go straight back in for a reason I couldn't explain.

Over the years I've never forgotten that mole. I've always checked it regularly and although I've never been able to point out a specific change or difference I've always just wanted to get it checked. It's always stayed on my mind.

Two weeks ago I did. And two weeks ago I was diagnosed with skin cancer. Melanoma. The worst of them.

All because I went to my local clinic for a 5 minute full body check.

The Dr checked me all over and said he wasn't comfortable with leaving that mole there. That was all he said about it. 5 minutes later, after some local anesthetic, he had replaced that mole with 4 stitches.

I didn't really think about it again, other than the fact that I was so surprised that having stitches didn't hurt. I hardly noticed them. Being the first time I'd ever had stitches besides childbirth, it was really a nice surprise.

Two days later Melyssa called me from work trying not to cry.

Melyssa works for the pathology company that my mole had been sent to and was the one to receive the fax of my results. Faxes are always bad news in pathology, it means they can't wait the couple hours it'll be before the results are uploaded on the computer.

She'd already gone into full panic-mode. The entire medical centre knew my results, she'd managed to panic everyone she talked to, and apparently had half of them in tears trying to figure out how to tell me.

I didn't exactly react how she expected.

All I saw was the bottom line. Although I had come back positive for melanoma, I had also come back with a .5mm margin, meaning there was .5mm of regular tissue surrounding the melanoma. The doctor had already removed it all.

I had cancer. But it was gone before I even knew it was there. What was there to panic about?

Mind you this is coming from someone whose mother has survived breast cancer. Whose mother has had skin cancer twice, and was having surgery for it the same week. The same mother who along with her two sisters has had a preventative hysterectomy to make sure they would never get the same cancer their mother died of. All before her mother was 50.

In retrospect I was just trying to calm Melyssa down. We've never both broken down at the same time, we always have each other to lean on.

The following Monday I was expected back in the clinic to officially hear my results. They were already double booked, but asked me to come in anyway and they'd fit me in. It was that important.

The night before, it hit me. Really hit me. What my mother had gone through, what a friend of Melyssa's is going through right now, why they had both fought, and were still fighting, so hard.

I'll admit, I panicked. The thought of leaving Melyssa, of leaving Kylan, of leaving Melyssa to tell Kylan about me because he wouldn't remember me. It was heartbreaking. And it's still something I think about everyday.

How can you not?

That Monday I received the official news that it was Cancer. I'll have to get full body checks every 6 months for the next few years... if not forever. He took pictures of another mole on my side that he's not comfortable with and I'll have to go back in 8 weeks to see if it's changed at all.

And then he took a chunk 3 times the size of the original out of my leg.

Just to be safe.

The blue marks around the outside in the shape of an eye is what he actually cut out, along with going at least 5mm deep all the way around.

I'll admit, cancer or not I love wounds. The second it was pulled out I was inspecting both the chunk and my leg and it was much bigger than I expected. The Dr actually had to tell me to lay back down because I was so excited looking at it.

Then he stitched it back together with both internal and external stitches. The yellow bruised bits on the end are now soft and squishy, as though they're just empty gathers of skin with nothing underneath... which I guess they actually are. A stark contrast to the skin on either side of the stitches which has been stretched and feels tight and hard.

I'm lucky in the location, and that in a few years it probably won't be noticeable at all. Right now, if I point it out, you can see where my leg is concave from the fat layer that was scooped out. It'll take awhile before that fills back in.

Hopefully this is the end of it. The results are back and they weren't faxed through. There was no more melanoma or cancer cells in the bigger piece that was removed and as long as my lymph nodes don't swell it should all be gone for good.

But if I ever get anything showing up in that spot again I have to go straight to the doctor. Doesn't matter if it's a freckle or an ingrown hair, I have to go back.

I guess in the scheme of things it's all good news... except that I am now officially more susceptible to both skin and other cancers. It may never be over.

But for now I accept that it is.

GET YOURSELF CHECKED.

UPDATE: Reinforcing how lucky I am: My sister-in-law's sister's fiance (not as far removed as it sounds) just found out he has 2 months to live. From a melanoma.

1:08 PM

Emily.

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Attn: Californian Voters.

30 October 2008

I think I may have mentioned this earlier when I was talking about voting but I really only registered because I have an opinion about the president and a personal interest in (NO! On) Prop 8.

But there's all this other stuff in there.

Being away I haven't seen any of the ads, I haven't talked to anyone, I know nothing about anything other than these little carefully worded blurbs on recycled paper.

Are there any props that are important to you? Anything you'd like my support on? Reasons help. :)

3:37 PM

Emily.

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Another Sign Your Life Has Changed.

24 October 2008

Sitting on the couch watching your two favorite characters from your favorite TV show FINALLY hook up... while your son sits on your lap 3 hours past his bedtime showing you how he learned to blow spit through his lips to make fart noises today.

4:03 PM

Emily.

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