Tuesday, January 31, 2012

How We Do It: Part VIII in a series


I was in my room, working on the computer and simultaneously talking to Oliver, who had just gotten out of the shower and was begging me to look up the video of the song Cherokee Nation. He had been singing the song incessantly since he'd gotten home from school, and while it made me laugh -- do you remember that song? -- it was also becoming tiresome.Cher - o - kee Nation! Cher-o - kee Pride! he shouted and then we laughed together at Paul Revere and the Raiders, their mustaches and long hair, what Oliver called hippies and in the olden days, so when he paused in the shouting of the song, we heard a steady banging coming from Sophie's room. I jumped up from my desk and Oliver froze as I ran out of the room. Sophie had fallen and was having a seizure, her head banging on the door over and over. Oliver and I realized this simultaneously, and as I tried to open the door, he yelled for Henry, who came running down the hall and as I moved out of the way, he placed his hands on the top of the door (cut-off halfway so that we can see Sophie in her room but not completely shut her out) and leaped over the door and over Sophie who lay on the floor, bent and seizing, her head banging on the door. He knelt down and drew her into his lap and held her there until the jerking stopped and he could drag her away from the door and we could open it and go inside. When I picked her up (thank you strong back) and put her on her bed, both boys left the room, and I sat there on the bed thinking of knights in shining armor and warrior Indians, the olden days.

36 comments:

  1. What beautiful capable sons you are raising. Sending smiles and hugs your way.

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  2. Oh my, Elizabeth. This is when I wish this wasn't the internet and I could just hug you, Sophie, and those strapping young lads you are raising. xo

    Also, this is some (pardon) F*CKING powerfully good writing.

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  3. oh, elizabeth.
    the collaborative impulse among you, sophie, and those boys is something to behold.

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  4. Those boys are her knights in shining armor. Yes, you must be a warrior too; all of you.
    May you all stay strong and graceful, to slip through doors, hear every sound, divine every need.
    Blessings and best wishes to a very strong family.

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  5. Such brave spirits, all of you. There is so much love and compassion in your children. They have so much to give to this world.

    When you wrote about Cher-o-kee Na-tion I laughed out loud, as I remembered I had to do a group dance in gym class to that song. My son Weston also loves that "hippie" song.

    But when I read about Sophie and the bravery of your boys, I cried.
    I wish you all peace and think of you.

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  6. Very sorry about about the hard day for Sophie, your boys are absolutely wonderful, gems and a rare find...

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  7. Those boys of yours, remind me so much of the little men I have in my home. All of them, yours and my guys and my older girls, better because of the presence of their sisters in their lives. As mothers, we live with mixed emotions as we watch them live beside these fragile girls. Pride overflowing. Awe in resiliency and sadness. Yes, a tinge of sadness. For in all things bearing gifts, there comes a price.

    Love to you all, my beautiful friend and her extraordinary family.

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  8. I love you . All of you.

    And this writing just stunned me.

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  9. It is beautiful, incredible actually, to watch how your boys are so united in their love and support for their big sister.
    It's you that has made this happen, Elizabeth. Lovely to behold. Thank you for sharing this moment in your lives.

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  10. How beautifully your boys are able to move with the difficulties of your lives, adapting, helping, and simply being present.

    We called ourselves the "Pit Crew," as in an auto race. Lap after lap of chemo, effort, survival, and all we could offer her was the safety of the unchanging love of our team, each one of us ready to help with whatever came up. And we were only at it for 10 months. After nearly 17 years, you have logged some serious mileage together. Life is a miraculous and mysterious thing.

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  11. Oh god. I read this post with my heart in my throat. I didn't breathe. At the same time I am in awe that for all the hell you all go through each day, your boys have become strong. You have so many reasons to be proud of them, Elizabeth. As tired as you must be, you are doing right by your sons.
    I have never felt that people with special needs were put on this planet so the rest of us can "learn lessons" but it is so evident that the strength in your family is there because of Sophie.

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  12. I am glad for your shining knights too - you are blessed
    and maybe with your opening of a retro soundtrack - my first thought was those two paramedics on the show "Emergency"
    I wonder if those are on you tube?

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  13. You are an exquisite writer and no one could write it all out the way you do and yet, I still don't know how you do it but reading this, I am realizing what it is about men I love and how you have raised two of them who are exactly all that means.

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  14. I love each piece in your How We Do It series. They are my favorite posts because they are so beautifully written, and because reading them leaves me wiser and more compassionate.

    I hope Sophie didn't hurt her head.

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  15. There is something bittersweet in that our children can/have had to learn to rise to these "occasions". Pride and deep sadness at the same time.

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  16. This is about love, pure and simple.

    Deep and persistent.

    Reliable.

    Essential.

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  17. Oh! Those beautiful boys of yours.

    I'm stunned and weeping.

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  18. You all are such a strong family.
    Sending love. x0 N2

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  19. I am so sorry you have to go through this. Your boys have to go through this. Sophie has to go through this. So very sorry.

    I don't get it God. I don't.

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  20. Such love you all have. The vision of you all there together, coming to one another's rescue is powerful enough to sustain me for a good long time. I'm sending you some love and light in hopes that I can return some small portion of the favor.

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  21. Oh, Elizabeth.... just... oh. Your "How we do it" posts always get to me so. I guess because in my head I'm at part #1000 over here. Only in my house it's not so much "we" as "I" - nearly always, just "I" alone. I am always in awe of how tender and loving your boys are with their sister, how beautiful their relationship is. Hugs all around. And a nice glass of something deep red and fragrant.

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  22. What a response team :) truly what family is about. I hope Sophie didn't get too badly hurt. Warm hugs all around :)

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  23. You know I read this knowing only too well what it is like, and what it is also like, the mixed blessing, of her siblings being so alert and sensitive to it when you wish they didn't know anything about it, but also see the beauty and joy in them giving to another like that.

    Let alone railing internal screams at the universe at the fucking seizures.

    I hope that makes some sense.

    Lovely post.

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  24. I don't think your boys will understand for a long time how much Sophie has shaped them, how she has taught them patience and compassion and kindness. Take care Elizabeth.

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  25. It was surreal to me, reading that. That you could move from that lighthearted singing to life-saving action. I love what you've done with Sophie's door! I can't wait to hear what the boys do when they're all grown up!

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  26. You write with such beauty and grace about such difficult situations, and I bet you carry that into your life as well. And hey, it's all good when you don't. Sending love and light to you and Sophie today, and I agree with what so many have said--how proud you should be of those boys you're raising. And of Sophie to.

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  27. Your sons. Sophie's brothers. Oh Elizabeth, this reminds me that in the midst of the hard things, there are such gifts. I am in awe of you, and the way you are raising these loving, practical, joyous, compassionate boys. What extraordinary men they will be!

    and how you write this!

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  28. If I could, I would give you and your family just enough money so that no one needs to be gainfully employed... (unless they choose to be, of course)....As i've said before, your "How we do it" posts are my very, very favorite and what I am most in awe of.. And as I read this w/tears in my eyes, I realize I am partially identifying w/ it because my husband's mistress/commute is 4 hours each day and the kids and I frequently "go it alone" . I find myself wishing that we, as a country would collectively give a large stipend, tax credit or whatever you want to call it to families like yours who we ask to "just do it".

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  29. I couldn't have written that post myself, so thank you for being so brave. You have two beautiful, courageous sons and I would dare to say that they both take after you and your husband.

    A huge hug from London to you and your family.

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  30. oh. my.

    You have you knights, unquestionably.And they are there for their damsel - or both damsels. Oliver is a knight for being so aware, recognizing what was happening and getting his brother to help and Henry is for dashing in.

    I'm just glad Henry wasn't actually wearing armor as he leaped over the top of the door. It might have been more Monty Python-ish than superhero.

    And it was superhero.

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  31. I love your writing. I wish I could reach out through the ether and give you a hug and buy you a drink. Of something fun. With an umbrella in it.
    p.s. I always thought it was "Cherokee Nation, Cherokee Tribe!" I've been singing it wrong all these years!

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  32. Tell Oliver i saw Paul Revere and the raiders in Tampa at the (now gone) Curtis Hixon Convention Center when I was very young and a fledgeling hippie. My friend Barb and I crawled into the ceiling crawl spaces and although I chickened out she got down and into the back of the hall where the Raiders were waiting to perform and met them and got their autographs and photos. She was the best groupie ever! Of course now days she would be arrested as a terrorist I'm sure.

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  33. hey you, i've been "away" from blogging (both writing my own and reading others) but i think about you and sophie so often (which i hope doesn't sound totally weird and creepish). trying to get myself connected again after an unintentional hiatus. as always, loving your writing and responding on this post bc... well, unfortunately i can relate big time.

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