Ear tubes and Race

     The other day, I took Levi to see a specialist because of his hearing issues.  As a result, she suggested that he have tubes put in his ears. Now, this is all very routine and kids get these all the time.  She described the process and that he would be under general anesthesia for a short period of time.  

General anesthesia freaks me out.  Any procedure on my kids freaks me out.  

So she asked if I had questions, of course I had questions about the safety of the general anesthesia but as I was trying to ask the question, I started to choke up and my eyes started to well a little with tears.  

I felt so silly.  My son is going to go under general anesthesia for less than a half hour and I’m crying over it.  

So what does this have to do with race?

My son is in a small bit of predictable and somewhat controlled danger because he has fluid in his ear.  I, as a mother, am concerned for his safety.   However, there are many mothers out there who are concerned daily for their sons’ safety but it’s from an unpredictable and uncontrolled danger.  And their sons are at risk for no other reason that the fact that they may look a certain way.

My children have the privilege (as I do) of looking Caucasian.  I don’t say that in a proud way, but what I mean is that by luck, I have one less thing to worry about for them - especially for my son.  

It seems that increasingly, being a man of color in our country puts one at a higher risk for being the target of many dangerous acts.  These acts may be done by peers, by authority figures or by those who are charged with keeping everyone safe.  Sometimes the danger is not obvious - it could be that you get one less chance than others who act the same way.  It could be that people look down on you for doing something that others of different races do but, because of how you look, you are labeled differently.  It could be that people feel fear by your presence alone.

I cannot imagine what it’s like to be a mother who is in fear of her son’s safety on a daily basis as he goes about his normal, harmless life.  My friend, Kim, posted this earlier in the week.  The things that these men were doing when they ultimately met their death are shocking.  They’re not shocking because you would expect someone to die from those things, but they are shocking for the exact opposite reason.  You would never expect that you would be killed for selling cigarettes.  You’d never expect to be killed for going to Bible study at a primarily African American church.  You’d never expect to be killed for holding a toy gun in a store.  You’d never expect to be killed walking in a stairwell or playing outside.  

When I hear about these things happening and imagine what it would be like to be a mother on the receiving end of news that her son has died at the hands of another person, especially in these situations, I could not imagine the pain.  I’m crying over anesthesia for ten minutes.  What pain must they feel?

Just because my kids are "safe" that doesn't make this an acceptable situation.  

I do not have the answers.  I’m not sure what to do.  But I’m open.  It seems we have a problem as a country, but who will help us find a solution?  Is it for us to stumble upon independently?  Will someone to lead us?  Who will that be?  How do people not perceived to be “of color” participate?  How will that participation be seen?  

It seems there is a lot of work to do for us all.  I’m not sure what that work is or what it looks like, but I hope that no matter where we stand in all of it,  person of color or not, that we recognize that we all have a part to play if all people are to be treated with love and fairness.  

I know for me, the work starts with being informed, being aware, and praying.  I hope you’ll do the same.

Summer Prep - Crockpot Style

Summer is upon us.  For some, that means bikini shopping and extra workouts.  For me, it means researching and meal prepping.  

I love a warm meal at night even if it’s hot out.  The crockpot makes that so easy. The crockpot I use most gives off no exterior heat and I pretty much never have to turn on the oven.

Here’s what’s on tap for me to prep this weekend and for us to eat this summer.  

Here’s my plan, well, it’s the spreadsheet of my plan.  If you have this this cookbook, you can meal prep with me!

I can’t wait to try these recipes.

The Agony and Ecstasy of Summer

That most dreaded and delicious time is upon us at the Ludlum house: summer time.

I became a teacher so that I would always have time off with my kids.  I’d never have to fight my employer to get Christmas, weekends or summer time off.

But now it’s here.  In the anticipation of all of the fun of summer, I am thrilled.  But I also know what’s on the other side of that anticipation - the torture of being home with my kids.  

With less adult interaction and more constant demands to break up fights, encourage sharing, feed the children and tell them what to do or not do - summer becomes a beast of a time.  

I miss adults.  I miss having time to myself that is uninterrupted.  When summer comes, I have all this time on my hands and many of my friends are working.  They can’t do play dates or late drinks.  

I am starved for conversation, but when Jeff comes home, I’m grumpy and I want to get away.

I keep telling myself that I feel this way every year; simultaneously excited and dreading.  I’m trying to prepare myself for the inevitable dive my attitude will take.  I’ll try to get ready for the spike in loneliness and sensitivity.  But I’m not sure it will help.  

I’m trying to get all my resources lined up in advance.  I’m making a schedule, committing to daycare once a week, prepping my crockpot meals (check it out here) and planning on hiring a mother’s helper.  And even with all of that, I’m a little scared.  

My fear shows up in odd places. It’s in forgetting to get dinner started and having to get take-out (darn).  Or trying to find extra time away from my family to go out to dinner or have drinks with a friend. It shows up in my general attitude of being checked out; not communicating with Jeff and feeling less caring at work as odd student behavior increases and my patience decreases.  

Surviving this time may just be about waiting out that transition period in the first couple of weeks as we find our groove and get settled in.  And maybe that's what's required for any change; waiting out the adjustment period and giving the change a chance.

Whatever the case, summer is upon us!  Pray for me (and us)!