Autumn Calvert

Category: Family

  • The Mountain

    “Son, we have talked about this!  Do not play with the trash can lid!  Come on, lets play with your cars.”  As usual, Asher turns around and goes right back to the trash can, and the conversation begins again.

     

    Though my child is much like others in that he continually falls into temptation and fails to resist, he has always seemed a bit different.  When all the other kids his age were turning over and trying to crawl, he was perfectly satisfied to lie on the floor and stare at the lights.  When his peers began to crawl and pull up, he was content to push with his legs and scoot across the floor on the back of his head.  He would not even pull up to a sitting position on his own till he was 12 months.  At 14 months, he had gained the ability to scoot across the floor on his booty.  He had finally mastered pulling himself to a standing position in his crib.

     

    By his second Christmas, he began to toddle about most uncertainly.  At 17 months, he was finally walking.  We would silently giggle at his gait, frequently stating he looked like Fred Sanford.  It was cute.

     

    Then, the falls started.  One big bad one a week causing a monster sized goose egg on his forehead.  Same spot every time.  His new doctor had consistently commented on his head size.  After all of the falling down, strange gait, and overall wobbly walking motion, she scheduled an MRI.

     

    This week, we went in for the test.  Of corse, a 19 month old and a MRI machine are not a match made in heaven.  For the test, they had to sedate him.  I kept telling him it would be ok, and that the drugs they would give him would just make him very sleepy.  One mommy, one daddy, and 3 nurses held him down for the IV.  He may be a bit behind in some things, but that boy has one serious fighting spirit.

     

    After the test, Asher woke up loopy.  It was kind of funny the way he was playing with the nurse’s name badge though she insisted he stop.  I held him in my arms and waited until they said it was time to go home.

     

    A couple of days later, I called the doctor to see if they had the results.  I was not expecting the news:  he has a cyst on his right temporal lobe and a small amount of water on his brain.  WHAT????????  This test was supposed to come back NORMAL!!  I asked a few questions to the doctor, told her thank you, hung up, and called my husband.

     

    If you have ever been sucker punched in the stomach, you will understand the feeling I had when they told me the results.  I wanted to throw up, scream, cry, and pitch a justified fit.  However, the only thing I could do was dial my husband’s phone number.  I held it together for maybe 3 minutes before the tears came.  I called my sister and she kept saying, “Autumn!  Calm down!  I can’t understand you!”  It is all consuming fear.  It is just all consuming.

     

    Once I pulled myself together, my husband had gotten home from work.  “I’m going to the store to get diapers.”  I drove along in a numb state.  At the grocery store, I pushed my cart to the familiar aisle, stared at the diapers, and pushed back the tears.  “Autumn, do not loose it in the grocery store!!  You have to see these people all of the time!!  HOLD IT TOGETHER!!”

     

    I left  the grocery store, made it home, walked inside, and crumbled to pieces in my husband’s arms.  How could my precious little boy have something growing in his brain that should not be there?  I wanted to fix it.  I wished I had the power to reach into his head and remove that damned cyst and water so he would be ok.  But, I couldn’t.  All I could do was stand there.  “Function, Autumn…YOU HAVE TO FUNCTION!”  And, so I did with the added weight of a rock in my gut and a knot in my throat.

     

    At this point, we were uncertain of whether the cyst was benign or malignant.  We did not know what it meant as far as his development was concerned.  All we knew was the basics, and the basics were just not good enough.

     

    The next morning, my very distressed husband called a friend who is a neurologist.  He was so kind.  This wonderful doctor actually pulled the MRI results, read them, and called my husband to tell him the cyst was not malignant.  Praise God!!!  He also stated the water around his brain could be causing the developmental delays, but there wasn’t enough to warrant a stint.  However, Asher’s neurologist would have to read the MRI himself to decide.  We still have to wait till the end of June to find out.

     

    In the meantime, Asher had a follow-up visit with this primary doctor to check his ears.  We talked for a while and made tons of appointments to help out my little man.  First one was the ENT.  After our visit there, the ENT decides Ash needs tubes.  This news seemed like rose petals and bon-fire songs compared to earlier in the week.

     

    So, now, we just push forward with doctors appointments for vision, hearing, early intervention, neurologists, and out patient surgery.

     

    My beautiful, wonderful, sometimes sneaky little boy is the highlight to my life.  He is the underscore to my lovely poems.  He is the smile on my face, and sometimes, the roll of my eyes.  My husband and I will push down the mountains if it means he can live a happy and healthy life.  Though we will have to call in the reserves to help us push and call on God to give us the strength and faith to keep going, those damn mountains are coming down!  Of this, I am quite certain.

     

  • Death to Quality?

    I am an avid watcher of the “CREATE” channel by PBS.  The station plays shows containing information on tons of ways to create things with your hands.  From food to painting, you can watch shows on “how to” do pretty much anything artistic.

    Yesterday, I was watching a sewing show.  The ladies on the show were all in their sixties or older.  I began to think about it.  What is going to happen to our society when these ladies are gone?  How many young people actually take an interest in something which takes longer than 10 minutes to complete?  Will people have to purchase a new “this” or “that” every 6 weeks because of the ill prepared content and construction?  It concerns me for my child.

    “What?  Concerns you for your child?” you may ask.  Yes!  Our society has become so consumed with quick and easy.  We run to the cupboard for a meal in a box.  We run to the store for a pretty dress or quilt.  We type a fast note to a friend instead of sitting down to write a letter.  We go go go to fill in the spaces of our lives.  I am just as guilty.  Quick has replaced quality in our culture.

    I watched the older lady carefully hand sew on a piece of fabric.  You could tell she had made these stiches thousands of times in her life.  Though she was obviously skilled, it was her manner which was impressive.  She was steady.  There was no rushing in her hands.  She carefully moved.  She studied each placement of the needle.  She was in the moment.  She was not concerned with how quickly she needed to complete the project.  Her concern was how well she accomplished the task at hand.

    I suppose what concerns me is that my child will grow up in a world that is lived out through a screen.  It frightens me that he may grow up in a culture where it’s not about the care and consideration put into your work, but how quickly it can be accomplished.  When the older craftsmen and women are gone, will the art die with them?  Will it become more rare than gold?  (If you look at the price tag of handmade items today, you would think we are already at this place.)  Or, will our society become so engulfed with the virus of expediency that quality will no longer matter?

    Of course, the irony of the entire thought is played out in my posting of this idea. Please be aware that I understand the importance of technology.  As a matter of fact, I love technology.  Trust me, every time I need a shower or I need to cook, I thank God for giving people visions and abilities.  For myself, though, I am going to strive to slow down and try to absorb the creating of the art as much as the outcome.  Maybe, if I can learn better to be in the moment of the creation, my son will notice.  Hopefully, he will learn to take this skill into whatever career he chooses.  So, whether he becomes a trash collector or doctor, he will know it is not about what you can get out of your work, but what you put into it that matters.

  • Snow…snow…snow..snow…SNOW!

    I love the snow.  It invigorates me.  I love the way it feels under my feet, and the way my face feels in the cold breeze.  It makes me feel alive.

    I live in Alabama, though.  Snow is a rarity.  However, last night, we got nearly a foot of SNOW!  I was so excited last night, I couldn’t go to sleep.

     

     

  • Marriage and Automobiles

    Today, my family loaded up for the weekly trip to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  We literally have to go over the river and through the woods to get there.

    As we were on our way home, we passed a junkyard:  a.k.a. car cemetery.  I looked over and saw an old SUV covered in rust with no tires, no doors, and grass growing around the edges and thought, “you know, at one time, that car was the excitement of someone’s life.”  Figuring this would be an interesting topic of conversation with my husband, I repeated out loud what my head was thinking.  “You know, honey, those cars, at one time, were bright shiny and new.  They had a new car smell, and somebody thought it was the best thing in this world to be the owner of that car.”  Then, it dawned on me, and I could not resist, “kind of like marriage, huh?”  We both laughed out loud.

    We continued along this line of conversation for a while, and this was my conclusion.  Yes.  All of those cars in the graveyard were once the most prized possession of someone:  just like the beginning of marriage.  You get in your new car, take a deep breath and smile a bit.  You settle into the seat, making slight adjustments to the mirrors, and then you commence to pushing all the buttons to see what happens.  Just like the beginning of marriage.  Then, you take it for a spin.  You start out slow to get the hang of the steering wheel and gas peddle, but after a bit, you decide you need to, “see what this baby can do”.   Just like the beginning of marriage.

    After you have gotten yourself comfortable with the way the car handles, you tend to push your luck a bit.  You take a curve a bit faster than before putting yourself in danger.  You get a little closer to the stop sign before you put on breaks.  How is this like marriage?  Well, once you are comfortable, you start to test your capabilities as a spouse.  After that first “wreck”, you start to realize you can either keep on driving this way, or you can lean back a bit and enjoy the ride.

    So, 5 years later, you have had this same car.  No longer does that new car smell surround you.  No longer do you have to seek out the radio buttons or windshield wiper switch.  You instinctively know where these things are located.  You know the speed the car rides the best at, and you know how to handle the steering.  It has become part of you.  The new has worn off, but you still love or hate the comfort of your broken in car.

    The life of a car can take many roads, but the 2 most taken are these:  kept so well it becomes an antique that most people envy or a bucket of rust on a patch of earth that is forgotten.  These are the two most common outcomes for marriage as well.  It is either one of those marriages people look to as what they desire for themselves, or, it becomes a marriage of resentment, or worst yet, indifference.  Either way, the marriage is, in essence, dead.

    As we began to talk about these ideas, Steve and I realized the only way a marriage can become an “antique” is with a lot of love, a lot of work, a lot of care, and a lot of dedication.  I certainly hope we can remember this the next time our marriage needs a new alternator. 🙂

  • The new normal.

    With so many obstacles coming towards me on  a daily basis, I have learned that the role of wife, mother, and business owner is a cluttered mess most of the time.  I read blogs about how to schedule, making time for this or that, but the truth is, a schedule is only an outline.  I find myself flying by the seat of my pants only looking towards the next minute where something needs to be washed, picked up, cleaned up, edited, and on and on.   If only I had listened to the women in my life before, I would have understood what they meant by, “the woman is the stronger gender”.  You carry the weight of the entire family on your shoulders.  When someone has a bad day, it moves in waves towards you, and you brace yourself for the impact.

    In all of the chaos, there is a part of me saying, “slow down…enjoy…”.  So, I do.  I watch my little boy struggle to stand up and take steps.  I see his bright blue eyes smiling from under those beautiful eyelashes.  I hear his little voice trying to figure out how to say, “doggie”, or “eat”.  It amazes me daily.  He amazes me.  Then, I remember the wash that needs to be changed out, or the dishes soaking, or the photos needing editing, or … or… or….

    I cannot believe the way my life has caught me by surprise.  Such wonder and selflessness.  Not only do I have my business to concern over, but my husband is also a struggling entrepreneaur.  Days on end, he will enter the house without a smile.  I know the look too well, I’m afraid.  However, I must finish cooking supper, clean up from supper, and begin the many hours of editing and marketing.

    These days, I savor a minute of singularity as if it were the last drop of water on the planet.  I thirst for it.

    For all of you mothers out there who are feeling this same sense of duty, you are not alone.  Do not isolate yourself  by thinking you are the only person experiencing the difficulties of motherhood.   The new normal we find ourselves in is not all bad.  The love we shower on to our children only encourages their self-esteem.  The selflessness they see in us we can only pray they will emulate in the future.

    Mothers, we are the strong arms, strong backs, strong minds, strong hearts, strong loves of our family.  I encourage all of you to take a moment today and breathe.  Become present in the moment, and look your child in the eyes.  After that, the new normal is all worth it.

  • The Great American Lie

    “When I finish this book, we are going on this diet” said my well-meaning husband.  The book was by Dr. Asa Andrew.  The diet:  no wheat, no dairy.  How long?  4 weeks.  My first thought?  “You have to be kidding me.  What are we going to eat?”

    The diet not only excluded wheat and dairy, but we were not allowed to have refined sugars, table salt, and canola oil.  We could only cook with butter.  We could flavor our foods with sea salt, pepper, herbs, honey, and other unrefined products.  We were allowed to have almonds, but peanuts were out.   We also were to drink half of our body weight in ounces of water per day.  Of course, soda was out.

    Once Steve finished the book, we went on the diet.  The first few days were really difficult.  There was much planning involved for meals, and I had to learn a whole new way to cook.  There was no more quick sandwiches for dinner, and no more could I just call Steve and have him pick up something on the way home.  It was amazing how much thought had to be put into each and every thing we ate.  Thankfully we could have dark chocolate over 70% cacao.

    Not only did the preparation for the meals take getting use to, but the actual flavors were a shock to the system.  Before the diet, Steve and I were pasta-aholics.  I had to find something to replace for noodles, and I had seen on Dr. Oz how one woman replaced noodles with Spaghetti Squash.  It was different but great.

    We would eat organic scrambled eggs cooked in butter with no salt or pepper for breakfast, roast beef with honey mustard and veggies for lunch, almonds and chocolate for snacks, and whatever I could figure out for dinner.

    As of today, it has been 2 days shy of 4 weeks.  Steve got home from work and said, “It is time to cheat.  We are going out to eat, and we are cheating in a big way.”  Excited, I agreed and almost tripped over myself to get out the door.

    We had to go to Costco and pick up our “good” foods with a few other things, and afterwards, we were going to a fried chicken tenders joint.  It was once my favorite fast food place.  I was so stoked about this eating experience.  As we left Costco, I could smell the tenders cooking.  We barely got the baby in the car before we were jumping in and racing over to the tender’s restaurant.  We were like lions going to a feast.  I was overwhelmed with complete and total ecstasy.

    We walked in and placed our glutinous order and found a place to sit.  I had packed Asher his dinner, so I started to feed him as soon as we had him settled in.  The food came out, and I couldn’t wait!  This was the thing I had dreamed of for the entire diet.  Ah…fried food.  My heart’s desire.

    My first bite was a french fry.  I had taken a french fry from a friend once while on the diet, and was quite disheartened.  However, these were crinkle fries.  These were my favorite.  As I bit into the fry, I stumbled over my vision and fell flat on my face realizing it tasted bland.  There really was no flavor.  Then, I realized that in order to get flavor, I was going to have to pile on the table salt.  “Ah,” I thought “maybe I should just cover it in sauce!”  I did.  Still, it was bland.  The sauce had lost it’s luster.

    As I stared down at my half eaten plate, it hit me.  It is all a lie.  A lie conceived by brilliant men and women to feed Americans junk and get rich in the process.  I had blind folded myself to the truth all of my life.  It was as if a veil had been lifted.  I could see the wizard.

    Four weeks ago, I would have had a good belly laugh at a blog such as this.  As I downed my cheeseburger, I would have thought, “Yeah, but if you only had this burger, you would be changing your tune.”  My taste buds have taught me so much about not buying into something just because it is popular and easy.

    Steve and I discussed the matter in the car on the way home.  I felt as though I would vomit, and he, after loosing 20 pounds, gained 2 inches in his waistline in one meal.  We thought about how much money we were saving by not eating junk, and how much money it would cost us to get a quality meal if we were to go out to eat.

    From one recovering junk food enthusiast, I challenge you to take on this diet we were on.  I challenge you to learn a new way to eat.  There is no room in our bodies for lies and much room in our bodies for truth.  Don’t buy in to the lie.  The truth tastes so much better!