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Sophie’s Surgery Update

Quick update: Sophie’s surgery went very well. Turns out she had three hernias (two inguinal ones, left and right, and an umbilical one) so her recovery will take a little longer. (No ballet for three weeks—we’ve yet to break this news to her.) But she’s sitting up on the couch now, coloring, watching The Last Unicorn and, I’m sure, contemplating when she’ll get her next popsicle.

Thanks for all your love and well wishes.

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  3. Overthinking, as a Parent
This entry was written by kara, posted on January 11, 2013 at 6:42 pm, filed under All and tagged inguinal hernia, parenting, popsicle, Sophie, surgery, thank you, umbilical hernia, worry. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.
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    Because of the grayness of January, and the stubbornness of the grays that crown my head, and the president’s lawyers’ talk of justice, and the harsh words said in car line, and the car that is upside down a few miles away as I type this, and the avocado we waited a day too long to eat, and the knowing that a friend is going through the impossible, and the harsh realization that time in all centuries and space and place is often cruel (despite flashes of beauty and unrealized perfection in long periods of contentment), I want to share Maggie Smith’s beloved “Good Bones.” “Life is short, though I keep this from my children. Life is short, and I’ve shortened mine in a thousand delicious, ill-advised ways, a thousand deliciously ill-advised ways I’ll keep from my children. The world is at least fifty percent terrible, and that’s a conservative estimate, though I keep this from my children. For every bird there is a stone thrown at a bird. For every loved child, a child broken, bagged, sunk in a lake. Life is short and the world is at least half terrible, and for every kind stranger, there is one who would break you, though I keep this from my children. I am trying to sell them the world. Any decent realtor, walking you through a real shithole, chirps on about good bones: This place could be beautiful, right? You could make this place beautiful.” That’s a wrap! Thankful for all the family and friends who came out to support our orphan and pickpocket, shown here and in spirit She’s tired but had a blast! My favorite orphan/pickpocket had dress rehearsal and parent night tonight, which is the night we can take pictures. It’s tech week. She’s had 26 hours of rehearsal since Sunday. So much hard work went into this and the kids did it all, including an amazing crew that built the set, made the costumes, advertised, did makeup and hair ... they have six shows in the next four days and Sophie is loving it. Tonight she said the people involved is the nicest group of people she’s ever met. Thankful for all the directors, teachers, high schoolers and parent volunteers who have dedicated so much time to this. We’re new to the world of theatre (aside from attending) and so thankful Sophie’s had such a great first experience. Celebrated my Grandma’s 86th birthday today ❤️ I feel like this image is such a great representation of life. (It’s also Frank Stella from MoMA, one of my Christmas gifts to Andy. He finished it today. One piece was missing. He has yet to finish a full puzzle in this house. There is always one piece missing. We’ve lived here 9 years. He blames the kids and pets. I blame the ghosts.) 🧡 Spent today looking at similar cheekbones across generations. My grandma made soup (even though I told her not to cook, I’d bring something), insisted on another dip of ice cream, and when I left said, when talking about memories, “you’ll always have today.” I will. This dreary Wednesday has been made much better by these gold velvet shoes with peacocks embroidered on them, which were delivered today. (James is appalled.) Although the West Hollywood Bodhi Bookstore closed in 2010 after more than 40 years in business, they’ve maintained an online commercial presence. That, too, is sadly ending (they’re having a huge sale if you’re in need of some smudge sticks or books on enlightenment). I bought some stones for the hell of it (Andy’s been surprisingly nonjudgmental about this). This particular one is supposed to “heighten mental clarity and stability in otherwise chaotic situations.” Between that one and my pocketed sodalite (also known as the poet’s stone it’s said to “ease communication and self-expression”) and nightly cappuccinos lovingly made by Drew, I am almost done with the big part of Honest Labour, a book I am super passionate about but have failed to finish editing for several years due to other work, children and life (procrastination is made easier when the author is dead). Maybe once done I can switch to my new yellow aventurine stone, which apparently will help me foster ease and balance. And then my yellow tiger eye stone as I move forward with “passion and determination” to convince y’all to buy it (seriously, it’s a book of essays—even non-woodworkers will love it). [Edit to add Andy just came up here to ask about James who can’t sleep, and I said not to worry, I gave him a stone to help. He’s now being judgmental about the stones. 🤣🧘‍♀️) That kid in the middle in the white scored a couple baskets today ... My own family regularly baffles me. Five people live in this house. I love age 9. But sometimes, especially when I’m working late at night, I look at this picture on my desk and I have this deep, primal urge to scoop those babies up and hold them to my chest. And it hurts. This picture is so accurate, in every way. The outfits, the expressions, Owen’s split ear (thankful for the dear friend at our party who also is an emergency medicine PA). This last decade has been kid-heavy, for which I’m deeply grateful. There has been great joy. Also, deep sorrow. But we’re not special. No one walks through time without scars. I’ve lived long enough to now know that sometimes the truths of the matter are the hardest to bear. And maybe it’s my background in journalism but I will always seek and desire those truths, no matter how hard. For they, along with all we share so publicly, is the makeup of life, real life. Smiles and split ears. All of it. Tonight I gave out many kisses, sad but mostly happy, knowing we get to turn several timeline pages—a year, a decade, 20 years. Today’s strong winds did not go unnoticed. Cheers ❤️ WinterFest Gebhart family Christmas ❤️ Cincinnati Ballet’s The Nutcracker in beautiful Music Hall where we were so impressed with Sophie’s good friend Morgan (a party boy) and James’s classmate Madeline (a cupcake). Dinner in OTR followed. It was a melting of both sides of the family—as my family arrives, Andy’s departs and we have more Christmas to come. Christmas Eve / Christmas morning / Uhl family Christmas ❤️ Santa ❤️
    TAP

  • Favorite Essays

    Choosing Compassion in a Culture of Fear

    Seeking the Bigness in the Everyday

    The Love in Trying

    The View from Up High

    Season of Innocence

    The Huffington Post guest post: Apologies to the Parents I Judged Four Years Ago, a TIME's top 10 opinion piece in 2012

    Simple

    Changing Love

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