What do you need?

What do I need?  Sometimes, I am not so sure.  Maybe sleep, maybe a glass of chilled chardonnay, maybe a good cry.Needs and wants are interesting concepts.  At the end of the day, one really only needs clean water, clean air, sustaining food, safe place to rest your weary head. 

One need that I think is highly undervalued really, is the need for touch.  I have been pondering this thought over the last week after I listened to Terry Gross interview Dr. Vincent DeVita, an oncologist and author of the book, The Death of Cancer.  To listen or read the transcript, see the link below:  http://www.npr.org/2015/10/28/452395967/oncologist-discusses-advancements-in-treatment-and-the-ongoing-war-on-cancer

In this discussion, Dr. DeVita discussed his own battles with cancer, but also bravely talked about his son Ted, who fought aplastic anemia until he died at age 17.  Aplastic anemia, is a disorder whereby all three of the major bone marrow stem cells are not produced in adequate amounts.  Without enough red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets,  a person will not be able to oxygenate appropriately, fight infection, or prevent clotting.  This condition can ensue following a toxic chemical exposure, a viral illness such as mono, or due to unknown reasons, which then we call idiopathic. 

For Ted, he was so severely compromised, he lived his remaining 8 years of life in a bubble like room at the National Cancer Institute.  I cannot even imagine what both parent and child endured.  The only touch that this young man would have had was that through plastic gloves. No touch. No hug from his mom.  No stroking the cat. No first kiss.  No physical touch for fear he would die of infection.

We take the sense of touch for granted.  How many times a day do we find ourselves touching someone.  Tousling a child's hair, squeezing your partner's hand, hugging your mom, even though she is not going to remember who you are. 

Without touch, babies would not be breastfed, or even created for that matter. People whose love language is of the more physical in nature would often feel neglected.  Research has shown that touch results in a release of oxytocin, a hormone instrumental in the feel good department as well as the let down reflex in breastfeeding.  (http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0149763408001127)

Think of all the people living in nursing homes, whether they are elderly, non-verbal, etc.  How much better would their lives be with appropriate touch?  Today, I am going to sit here and just be grateful.  Grateful that I have this sense as well as the people in my life to share it with.  In fact, I think I am going to go hug my kiddos right now.

Be Gentle

Be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars.  In the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.
                                                               Max Ehrman

NoMoYe

Some people take a month to write a novel.  This is my month to try not to yell.  NoMoYe- No more yelling!  This will be a challenge, but such a blessing if and when I succeed.  How will I measure this success?  I would guess that I would witness less yelling coming back my way.  More later and wish me luck.

Three going on thirteen, questions, questions, questions. . .

It was that time of the month, and of course I had run out of the goods.  I headed to our local CVS to purchase both types of female products and upon my return home, I became distracted by the kitty cuteness that greeted me at the back door, leaving the plastic bag with the goods on the bench.

It was at that time that Honeypie came to say hello.

HP: Oh, good!  I need these for my birthday (holding the bag of tampons).
Me: (Turning around, almost choking on my cup of cold coffee) For your birthday?  HoneyPie, those are tampons, you do not need tampons until you are older.
HP: No. I need tampons for my birthday.
Me: Sweetie, those are for when you are older and you have your period.
HP: (Clutching her parts and in an intense voice) I am having my period.

Then, the marathon began.  There went my daughter, clutching the bag of unscented supers as she ran full speed around the house, me in tow.  How ridiculous.  So she throws the tampons to the ground, and I think to myself  "whew, this is over" and there HP goes, the baton this time  in the form of maxi pads.


Flash forward to dinner time several hours later, when to my husband's chagrin, Ladybug began launching into questions about getting your period:  how did I know I first got it? When did I get it? Do the twins have it? How will I get the tampons in and out?  Does it hurt? What do breast changes  have to do with this?  Both girls were rapt in attention at my responses.

I looked at my husband.  He was shoveling the Parmesan covered shells into his mouth at a pace where I could only wonder if he was actually employing his tastebuds.  If I had to guess, I would have guessed that he was grateful that we actually had another male I the house, even though it was the feline type.

The "Talk". . . It's coming

In the last month, we have adopted two of the most beautiful kittens.  Olaf, a snow colored cat with Mickey Mouse markings is our little man and Chita, a Hindi word for "spotted" is our little girl. Ironically, she is not spotted, but brown with black stripes bedecking her head and body.  A white vest adorns her chest and like her larger cat cousin, the Cheetah, she is very quick on her feet.

Nevertheless, our two human beans are thoroughly enamored with their feline friends.  In fact, Ladybug, our eldest has declared that she is going to have 1000 cats in her house some day.  None of which are going to be spayed or neutered. 

Which of course lead to the most interesting discussion late one night as she, Honeypie and I were all cuddled in my bed for a slumber party. 

LB: Mom, why do cats have to get spayed and neutered?
Me: Well, it's so they don't have babies.
LB: Why?
Me: Well, if there are too many cats, then there is a chance that they won't get taken care of well.
LB: But why do they get spayed and neutered?
Me: So they don't have babies.
LB: But how does this make them not have babies?
Me: (How is it that I get these discussions?)  Well, the vets do a little surgery that makes them not have babies.
LB: Well, the boy cats are lucky.
Me: Why is that?
LB: Well, they can still have babies.
Me: Actually, LB boys do not have babies.
LB: Then why do they have to be neutered?
Me: Well, (whether I am ready or not for this, this discussion indeed is happening), boys have a special cell that meets with the egg and then these two cells make a baby?
LB: Well, how does the cell get there?
Me: The boy cat puts it there.
LB: (I can hear a smile on her face in the dark) Oh, I get it. Like you and Daddy!
Me: Me and Daddy?
LB: You know, you huggle wuggle.
Me: I guess that is like Daddy and I.

Pan to our other daughter, who is now fast asleep in my bed, eyes lightly fluttering, hand clutching her pink flowered birth blanket, looking as cute  and innocent as ever.  In this moment, I realize this innocence is not long lived and like my old white tattered blankee, I am wishing to hold onto this for a very long time.