The Summer of Solitude

 I have a friend, a fellow former sports writer pal, who takes his summers very seriously.

Every June (or July), he puts together a bucket list of people and places he wants to see and things he wants to do around the country. "Summer of John," he calls it and shares photos of his epic adventures with his friends (and occasional celebrities) at fabulous golf courses, restaurants and ball parks. It's pretty cool.

I take my summers pretty seriously too, especially since my longtime career as a sports writer ended and I became a full time school teacher. Yes, I am now one of those people y'all all envy, who gets summers "off." Although, I feel it is my teacher duty (hate that word!) to remind you that teachers do not get the summers "off," we just get laid off and have elected to spread our nine-month paycheck out over the months of June and July. 

We also do work in the summer -- some more than others. I deliberately forced myself not to do school work during the month of June, telling myself "wait until July...wait until July...". But, I confess that, when I got my new assignments for the fall I did tinker just a little.

In the meantime, I put together my own bucket list. Mine was not nearly as exciting as my friend John's, however. Mine had things like paint the porch, power wash the deck and hire a painter on it. But then, the kid I hired to come power wash the porch before I could paint it stood me up, and so did the painter we asked to come give us an estimate, so there went that. There are some things I can't do by myself anymore. 

And that's what I am. By myself. A lot.

Not all school people get summers off. My husband is still The Coach and has spent his summer so far coaching not one, but TWO baseball teams. If he's not playing, he's practicing. And if he's not doing either one of those, he's probably off watching somebody else do one of those. Then he got to be the interim principal for a month so, while I got to sleep in until 7:30 a.m. every day (damn teacher body clock), he had to go to work. That shoe was definitely on the other foot for us!

Of course, our beloved daughter is home for the summer from college, but, well, she has a boyfriend who just got his own place up the street so she is never home either. I follow her on Life 360, though, just to try to keep up. The dogs and I get butterflies whenever the little blip says she is home.  We hear the signal then patiently wait at the door for her arrival. But most of the time, she just keeps going and breaks all our little hearts. It's sad really.

I do have a fairly large basket of books I want to read, some for school and some for fun. Instead, I binge-watched Firefly Lane -- alone. And now I am reading that book. 

I did get to go on one trip, to Natchitoches, Louisiana, for the annual Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame induction ceremony. Despite my better sports writing days being behind me, I am still on the selection committee until they tell me otherwise. So, last weekend I took the four-hour drive -- alone. I stayed two nights in a hotel -- alone. I went to all the events -- alone (well, I was third wheel for one of my favorite couples). I got in a fender bender -- alone. Then I drove home -- alone. At least I could listen to Yacht Rock and sing as loudly as I wanted.

Now I'm spending this weekend alone again as The Coach plays ball on the road in Tennessee and The Daughter plays with my emotions.

I'm calling this my Summer of Solitude. 

And I'm not really complaining. I know some moms (and wives) that would kill for a little Alone Time, Me Time, Get Out of My Face Time. Sure it would be nice to have company on occasion, but at least I don't have to argue over what's for dinner or what show to watch on Netflix. I have never minded keeping my own company. I have hobbies and interests of my own. I have this blog, which obviously needs attention, a family tree I've been working on for 30 years, two more books that need to be written, a body to get in shape, a home office space I love (except it gets 100 degrees up here). And, now that it's July, classes to prepare for.

Oh yes. And a big, beautiful blue pool all to myself. 

There's a lot to be said for solitude. 

Bent Wings -- A Scoliosis Journey: The Countdown

So we're midway through the summer break.

Kids across the land are staying up late, sleeping until noon (or later) and (some are) packing in as much fun in a day as they can. Movies, parties, sleepovers, trips to the mall...

Well, not my kid. She's packing as much TV watching, music listening and macaroni eating as she can between the hours of 4 p.m. and 6 a.m., staying up until dawn and sleeping until late in the afternoon.

And the big Fourth of July weekend is coming up. Families across the land are planning bar-b-ques and luaus. Some packing up for trips to the beach, to the mountains, to the Caribbean or to Disney.

But not us. We'll be headed to Ochsner Foundation Hospital.

We are three days out from Lora's long-awaited surgery to repair her Scoliosis -- 48 degree curve. We will arrive on the second floor (Same Day Surgery) at 5 a.m. on Thursday, where a team of surgeons will fuse my daughter's spine from the third Thoracic vertebra to about the fourth Lumbar vertebra. T3-L4. I won't get more graphic than that. I could. Believe me, I could. But I won't. Not out loud.

In my brain, however, it's all happening now. Over and over again. I have imagined every moment, every scenario (yes, even the unimaginable ones). I can't stop thinking about what will happen, what could happen, what might happen, what should happen, what I think will happen.

Believe it or not, I was worse before last week. Before last week, I had entrusted (mentally) my daughter's well-being to The Surgeon, the cocky arrogant one who wasn't very forthcoming with information and made us (well, me) feel stupid for asking the stupid questions. We didn't doubt his abilities, however, because, well, neither did he.

Then we learned that on Lora's team will be Dr. Waldron, the young baby-faced orthopedist who first treated Lora, who braced her and kept tabs on her. We always did like him and he always treated Lora like a person in the room, not a piece of furniture. Dr. Waldron's nurse actually called us to tell us this and invited us to meet with him to ask any questions (!).

So we met with him on Tuesday. And I got more information out of him in five minutes than I got in three visits with the other guy. We talked drugs and anesthesia and cuts and scars and sutures and pre-op and post-op. I was able to ask him all the questions I wanted, without feeling like I was a fool -- or a pill. And it went a long, long way to soothing this frazzled mother's nerves. I actually slept through the night!

OK. Once.

Yeah. Now I'm back to waking up in the middle of the night, worrying -- NOT about what could go wrong. That's not it. I'm worried more about what I already know will happen -- the horrible pain she will be in, about which she has no idea. The immobility. The drugs. The effects the drugs will have on her. The indignities about to be heaped upon an extremely modest 13-year-old girl.

We've done our best to keep ourselves occupied. We went to the beach, we had a few pool parties and bar-b-ques, she's had a few sleepovers, Coach and I went on our annual trip to the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame in Natchitoches. I have made myself get up at 7 a.m. to walk and sweat in the Louisiana humidity then spent whole days floating in my pool.

Lora, meanwhile, has slept. And eaten. And had her BFF over. And had a three-day sleepover with my BFF and her BFFs while her parents went to Natchitoches. And watched The Office. And forced me to binge-watch Teen Wolf. And convinced me to let her cut off all her hair. And tried false eyelashes. And is trying to convince us that she needs a new iPhone before she goes to the hospital. And found out that her OMG FAVORITE BAND The Arctic Monkeys are coming to Voodoo Fest. And got me to promise to take her. And discovered that her grandmother still has an old turntable and records in her house!!! And learned that getting blood drawn doesn't hurt all that much. .

It's been a pretty good summer... Even if we only have three days left...

Trouble in paradise

When my husband Marty and I first started dating some 22 years ago, there were those who said we'd never last.

He certainly wasn't what I was looking for in a husband -- the tall, dark, handsome guy with rock hard abs and a well-diversified 401K. No, Marty was short, kind of roundish, had more of a keg instead of a 6-pack, and he was paying child support to his ex-wife for his two kids.

But he was cute and funny and he liked to dance and he thought I was pretty cool, being a trailblazing female sports writer and all. He wasn't one of the guys who asked me how I could write about football when I never played it. And he thought it was cool that I got to go to really good baseball games. He even offered to go with me to one, then stood me up.

But we ended up together somehow, and we've shot down all those naysayers.  This December we will celebrate 20 years of wedded bliss. And it has been mostly bliss. When I tell you that I can remember exactly two arguments between us, I am not exaggerating. Two. I can't tell you what they were about, though. I just know that one time I stormed out and, with no place really to go, I drove myself to Walmart and refused to answer my cell phone for a couple of hours.

This is why we do not have a reality show

We have been this perfect little sports couple, he the coach, me the sports writer, both of us going to games, watching games, talking about games, reliving games planning our lives around games -- both his and mine.

Until now.

As you probably know by now, my husband decided that the 2014 high school baseball season was going to be his 25th and final one. He announced this big decision last year, rather innocuously on his own little blog, but then it blew up into 5, 6, 10 and front page news. And then he got to turn the final season into his very own Farewell Tour, which also garnered 5, 6, 10 and front page news.

Yeah, well now it's over. The season and the career. And, if things keep going the way they are, our marriage soon will be over too. It's only been two months and the man is driving me crazy. He is coach without a team, a man without a mission, a retiree without a hobby. He doesn't play golf, or cook, or garden, or clean the house, he doesn't have a girlfriend and he isn't handy. That means he's just IN MY WAY.

You see,  I have a routine. I get up every morning at 7 a.m. At 7:30, I go walk. At 8:30 ish I come back all hot and sweaty and all I want to do is sit down and cool off. I usually do that by sitting at my computer and seeing what's going on in the world. But since he's RETIRED, The Coach has taken over MY computer. I come home and he's in my chair, all cool and collected and relaxed, sipping coffee and cruising the Internets. Not only that, he's watching some stupid YouTube video that you and I and the rest of the world watched and enjoyed some two years ago, while he was playing baseball. And he wants me to watch it now.

Coach: Come see this cool video of this whale being rescued by fishermen!
Me: I've seen it.
Coach: Really? When?
Me: Oh.. a few years ago. Want me to tell you how it ends?
Coach: %*#(%*^

Later in the day he watches baseball, non-stop, on the MLB Network. But now that he's a coach without a team, a manager without men, he has no one to talk baseball with except me. I don't really mind. I do love baseball. It's the film sessions I can do without.

Coach: (remote in hand) Watch this play. (Rewinds the game)
Me: 0_0
Coach: See where the third baseman is? (Rewinds again.) He's playing the lines! (Rewinds again.) Why is he guarding the lines in this situation? (Rewinds again) He just cost his team the game!!
Me: 0_0

OK. Truth be told, things did get a little better last week. My husband is coaching a group of college-age boys in a local summer league. Many of the players are his own former players who went on to star at LSU, UNO, ULL and other places. They're some good ones. Being a coach again put a little extra hitch in his giddyup - bum knee and all.  He's back to making lineups and talking pitching and running off to games. Unfortunately, there are no practices to run off to, but it's enough to get him out of the house a few times and out of my way. He's happy. I'm happy. And we're not tripping over each other as much.

Our marriage is saved! (Maybe.)

Bent Wings -- A Scoliosis Journey: Postponed

I swear this is true.

I was sitting at the computer, trying to concentrate on ... something ... But my mind began to wander, as it frequently does, to her surgery.  June 24th. The date on all our calendars. I just happened to glance at the lower corner of my screen to check the date. May 19th. More than a month to go. How will I make it?

Then the phone rang.

It was the surgeon's office, his assistant, wanting to know if it was OK if we postpone the surgery to July 3rd.

And I felt the punch in the gut.

To him, it's probably like postponing his dentist appointment, his haircut, his pedicure. To me? It's another nine days to fret, to worry, to agonize, to imagine the worst, to rationalize, the justify to those who don't understand, to figure out our life, to hope for the best, to try not to think about it (yeah, right). And I do all those things, all the time.

"Is that OK," the young woman on the phone asked.

"Do we have a choice?" I replied.

She chuckled.

"I guess so," I said -- even though it means she probably won't be healed enough for the first day of school, which is August 11th. Even though every day I look at her, I see more and more of a dramatic lean. Even though she complained just the other day about her back hurting while she was sitting at her sister's graduation; then again while standing at her weekly singing lesson. Even though I am worried to death about all of it, and can burst into tears at the mere idea of that man cutting my daughter open.

 I wasn't sure how she would react. While I am a nervous-wreck over the whole thing, my Snarky Teenager seems completely unaffected by the whole thing. She's not scared, not nervous, not afraid.  She doesn't talk about it, doesn't ask questions. She did watch a few YouTube videos I've found that were posted by other kids. That's enough for her. When anyone asks her about it, she just replies, "It's going to make me better."

I've tried to get her to join the online support groups, become pro-active.  She wants no part. I was actually surprised to see that she had drawn kind of a funny picture of her spine on her art portfolio from school.

This is the cover of Lora's art portfolio from school.

"I don't need a support group, Mom," she says. "You do."

She's right. And I have one on Facebook.

Still, I sat her down. Held her hand. And told her that her surgery had been postponed.

"Good!" she said. "I was going to miss the start of Teen Wolf."

Well, there ya go.

The crooked little tree

The tree we planted on the day Lora's adoption became final (it's a Japanese Magnolia) grew just as crooked as she did. It leans over to the side. 

So, yesterday, The Coach and I performed a little "surgery" on it.

We hope that now it will grow tall and straight.

Lora's surgery to correct her scoliosis is on June 24th.

She and I have talked about it, and we will be blogging about the experience.

We hope to help other moms and kids out there who are going into this as terrified as I am.

The Great Outdoors is outside, you know.

She doesn't even like to go outside.

My 10-year-old daughter, the one born to be a computer whiz, a writer, a poet, a singer, a TV critic, a lawyer and/or a Drama Queen? She doesn't go out to play.  Ever.

When she comes home from school she doesn't rush inside, throw down the school bag then run back out to find friends up or down the street. That's what we did back when there were only three TV stations, computers filled an entire room and there was only one video game called "Pong."

She doesn't ride a bike. Has no desire to learn.  I'm the one who has fantasies of the two of us together, cruising the neighborhood on our bikes with cute little baskets on the front. I have resorted to putting the word out. There is a $50 reward to anyone who teaches my daughter to ride a bike before the start of summer.

She doesn't spend endless hours in the pool we built for her.   OK, for us.  (We were too old for a Jungle Gym.)  Most often, her dad and I are out in the pool, floating on a raft and getting in some oh-so-rare together time,  while she's inside designing fashions on the computer.  She comes out to check on us every once in a while.... Or she did back when she fancied being a waitress.

No. My 10-year-old daughter who is some part Native American, has no love for the Great Outdoors.

So you will understand why I was taken aback tonight when she informed us -- very excitedly -- that she wants to go to 4-H camp this summer.

For a week.

"It's four hours away," she said, actually thrilled at the prospect.

And yes, it was like a knife in this mother's heart.

Not ready, I thought to myself.  She's not ready.

I'm not ready.

One of us is not ready.

It's not that I don't want my daughter to go to camp.  I'm sure it would be a wonderful learning experience for her. The web site says it stresses teaching kids how to be self-sufficient, how to work as a team, how to be independent. Those are all skills she could definitely benefit from.

I went to Girl Scout camp when I was about her age. I still remember the Indian prayer they taught us -- complete with hand signals -- and can probably still make a Banana Boat over an open flame if I really wanted to. But that was a day camp. I got to go home to my mom at the end of the day.

This is a kid who rarely sleeps away from home, preferring her friends to come to our house instead (as do I).

And a kid who hardly ever goes outside to play, preferring to chat with friends on the computer or build a web site (No. I'm not kidding), or blog, or write an incredible fiction story that will simply knock my socks off, or draw an amazing picture of one of her friends or use her amazing voice to sing along with her iPod.

A kid who likes to stay up til 2 a.m. and sleep 'til noon.

A kid who has to have the TV on in whatever room she's in to chase the monsters away.

What would she possibly do at a camp that stresses the discovery of nature? That asks parents not to call for the entire week? That isn't stocked with Chitos? That has no refrigerator?

"It has air conditioning," she added. "No, really! Air conditioning! And plugs for my iPod. I asked. And I really want to go."

One of us isn't ready.

Summer Daze

So,

On the first day of summer, Marty, Lora Leigh and I all sat down together at the dinner table. And we each made a list of all the things we wanted to accomplish.

I wanted to swim, read, watch movies and lose 15 pounds.

Marty wanted to lead his team to the Legion playoffs, knock off a few household chores and lose 15 pounds.

Lora Leigh wanted to swim, sleep, go the Insectarium, visit Bed, Bath and Beyond, and go see the movie, "Up."

Among other things....

We wanted to go to the World War II museum. That's been on our list for a long time.

I wanted to take Lora to Laura Plantation, where Marty and I were married. And I wanted to take her to ride a streetcar. They weren't around for a while after Katrina, so she's never been on one.

On the first day of summer I took us all out to Walmart and bought Lora a shiny new bike. I was determined that she would learn to ride it so that we could spend summer days riding bikes. That didn't happen. Hard to get a kid with a pool motivated to go sweat her butt off in a 124 degree heat index.

We did go to the Insectarium and to the French Quarter to visit my mom. We bought Pralines and strolled around. Then she dragged her dad back for a second trip to see the bugs. She wanted to go see the Cathedral on that trip, so they did.

But mostly we swam. We stayed up WAY too late and paid for it dearly the next day. We had our annual luau. We made our annual quick trip to Florida. We went to the movies. We spent hours in Bed, Bath and Beyond.

And we watched the days fly by.

Tonight we all sat down with our lists and pens and checked off all the things on our lists that we had done. Marty and I both still need to lose 15 pounds. Lora won. She actually accomplished the most.

I don't know how. Most days she slept til noon. Sometimes later. One day she woke up at 3. It got to the point that Marty would let her sleep just to see how long she could. She sleeps late because we often stay up WAY too late....

She's a night owl, like her mom...

But there was so much we didn't accomplish. And now we're out of time. School starts tomorrow. Tomorrow she becomes a third grader. And I am sitting here wondering just how that happened as well.



.

Summer

Haven't been posting much on the old Lyons' Din.... Not too much to roar about I guess.

I've actually had a pretty nice summer so far. Quite productive, even.

Of course, that could be because I've had LOTS of time off. More than usual. The paper kindly requested that the entire staff take two weeks off without pay this year. Furlough, they call it. And they asked so nicely, we could hardly refuse.

So I took the first two weeks that Lora Leigh was off from school. We swam. We stayed up too late. We couldn't sleep late because she had drama camp. We watched soap operas. We went to the movies. We rented movies. We had our annual backyard luau. Went to convention in Natchitoches. Went to the Insectarium in the French Quarter. Visited my mom at work and went next door to buy pralines. Bought her a a bicycle so she could ride with me, but haven't found the time to teach her how to ride it. Went to Houma to see Aunt Lou and Lena and Madison. Ate crabs. Grew a cyber farm. Squirmed in a waiting room while a doctor cut on my husband's face.

And we read.

One day she asked if I would take her to "Barnes to Nobles." I chuckled and said yes. She wanted the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series. She has read the whole thing this summer.

I, meanwhile, fell into the whole Twilight thing... Started with the first one and quickly became obsessed. Fell madly in love with Edward (not so much Rob Pattinson, but EDWARD!). Then, about halfway through the fourth one, I got over it. She should have stopped after the first third of that one. Actually, my favorite one is the unfinished one on her web site. It's Twilight told from Edward's point of view. That was awesome.

Actually, I just enjoyed the reading part. I don't think I've finished a book since Lora Leigh was born. And I've read six in a month and a half....

I've also written one.... Yes, the rumors are true. Nudged by friends and pushed by cousin Bob in Kentucky, I have finally put together a manuscript. It's actually some of what you've read here -- the journal I kept while we were trying for a baby, then waiting for Elle then Lora Leigh. It has been an amazing process. Talk about becoming obsessed with a book!! I've written it, read it, re-read it, edited it, re-edited it, re-written it.... A few friends have read it for me and given me great feedback. Right now there is much hope and promise.

But even if nothing comes of it, I will have left a legacy of love for my little girl.

I hope someday she gets it....