Small Pleasures (2.0)

This morning Charlie and I went to the Bread Lounge, a really cool cafe in downtown L.A. that makes the most amazing breads and pastries and serves some of the best coffee in town. What we love most about the place is that there’s a gigantic window from the seating area into the bakery so we can watch the bread bakers at work—just like at DuPar’s but the ambiance at the Bread Lounge is decidedly different—more of the downtown hipster crowd but not the insufferable Silver Lake Intelligentsia kind (um…no offense—I love going to that place, too!).

As Charlie sat on my lap eating a delicious ricotta danish with chocolate and cranberries, I sipped my perfect latte and we both watched the talented young bakers making biscotti in the massive kitchen. The calming effect of this simple moment on the stored-up adrenaline levels in my brain was palpable. Charlie started making a sculpture out of the crumbs of our danish and I couldn’t help but think how simple life’s true pleasures really are, despite the crazy machinations we put ourselves through about what we think we “need” to be happy. Being me, I was incapable of having that thought without starting to sing right then and there—and not so softly—the opening verse of “It’s a Fine Life” from the musical “Oliver.” In Nancy’s full-on cockney accent, no less:

Small pleasures, small pleasures 
Who would deny us these? 
Gin toddies—large measures 
No skimping if you please! 
I rough it, I love it 
Life is a game of chance. 
I’ll never tire of it 
Leading this merry dance…

Charlie is too young to be embarrassed by me yet and I didn’t even pay attention to the stares from the other patrons. I still had the feeling that I described yesterday at Farmers Market where it seemed like we were living in a musical and that everyone at the Bread Lounge, from the young skinny supermodel couple picking up a large box of pastries to the three women in expensive running outfits and shoes drinking double espressos to the young Asian family eating granola and fruit to the freshly scrubbed white t-shirted employees and Israeli owner who was carrying his six-month-old baby in his arms were about to join me in song and launch into a perfectly choreographed dance number.

Am I losing it? Quite possibly. I got a better feel for the healing process my shattered nerves are still going through at our next stop, a Lowe’s Home Improvement store near our house. As Charlie and I walked through the parking lot, a woman was screaming at her husband with intense viciousness. “DON’T YOU EVER LISTEN TO ANYTHING I SAY?!” Apparently he was supposed to meet her at a specific location but wasn’t there and she had just found him dawdling in front of the store. It’s never pleasant hearing strangers screaming at each other but this woman’s twisted face and negative energy hit me like an opposing magnetic field. I scooped Charlie up and made a wide arc around the fighting couple to try and steer clear of whatever ugliness was emanating from them, I just couldn’t be around it. Another symptom of post-traumatic stress?

Charlie spent the rest of the day playing with his fleet of garbage trucks. He’s getting stronger every day but we've noticed that he’s exhibiting a few behavioral changes since his last surgery. Not stuff that we’re all that worried about but I did find myself looking up post-VP shunt surgery stories on the Internet—against my better judgment! Charlie has been stuttering quite a bit since last Monday which I’ve read is quite normal for kids his age, especially boys, and especially after going through a stressful episode. It almost always goes away by itself. He also seems to be way more sensitive to sound and temperature. Until he was in the hospital, Charlie never seemed to mind our barking dogs or ever say he was too hot or cold and now he’s complaining of those things. I’m sure it’s all unrelated to his surgery but what the hell, we’ll mention it to his neurosurgeon who we’re seeing next Thursday. Ugh, I don’t want to become one of those parents who sits with my iPhone in hand googling everything my child says or does to see if there’s something to be concerned about.

I suddenly had a memory of using this title in a blog post so I just looked it up and found this entry from August 11, 2009. Ironically, Charlie was going in for his first VP shunt surgery the very next day, now that he had finally reached the 6 lbs. goal:

…despite the challenging and largely unknown journey that still lies ahead, I can’t help but be giddy with excitement at every step forward Charlie takes. We can really see his personality now and it’s such a sweet one. He seems to have a way of interacting with people that I know will serve him well in his life regardless of any other disabilities he may have…This whole experience has been radically changing my perspectives on achievement, intelligence, and success.

Wow. Thank you, NICU dad from 2009 who just reached forward in time to give comfort to post-PICU dad in 2013! I thought that would only go the other way around!

If you don’t mind having to do without things  
It’s a fine life!  
And though it ain’t all jolly ol’ pleasure outings  
It’s a fine life!  
When you’ve got someone to love  
You forget your cares and strife.  
Let the prudes look down on us  
Let the wide world frown on us  
IT'S A FINE, FINE LIFE!

Comments

[margalit]

He may have a bit of post-surgical residue, but that punim. That punim is gorgeous.

[OldOldLady of The Hills]

One might forget the Post Traumatic Stress that Charlie is going through---besides healing--And he doesn't have the same ways to express it as you do, my dear Danny....These last weeks for him, with all the restrictions of movement, I.V.'s, needles, etc., etc. It has to have taken a toll on him, too...One wonders what his dear little being is feeling? OY! Hard times, my dear....Sending Healing Hugs To All Of You...
((((((((((HUGS)))))))))) ALL those pictures of Charlie are SOOOOO Very Very Dear.....!

[Laurent chiche from the flat country]

Hopefully both of you are able to breath freely, smell muffins and latte's, and feel the fresh Air from the outside So happy that all of you are back to full freedom of life, without the strings, baxters, and all kind of incredibly technical drains!

[Kurt]

Reading this was a perfect way to start my day. The way you describe your adventures with Charlie makes me feel like I'm right there along for the ride. Thanks as always for sharing what you do. It makes me want to be a better Dad to my own 3 year old boy.

[Pat]

That would have been so cool if the whole Lounge had burst into song.

[sue katz]

So much I can relate to here. What a writer; what a dad.

[amba (Annie Gottlieb)]

Danny -- stuttering and sensitivity to heat and cold and noise sound like they could be anybody's normal reactions to surgery and three weeks in bed shut away from the world. When one feels a bit fragile and vulnerable, defenses are down, habitual filters are lowered by the unaccustomed, stimuli are much more intense. Your worrying is normal too, of course. I wish you more good time under your belt.

[amba (Annie Gottlieb)]

P.S. And maybe you need to write CHARLIE -- The Musical, in which the world does indeed burst into song to greet your return. Has anyone ever written a musical about an incredible parent's drama such as you've been living? No. But what a great idea. Think how many people would relate. Imagine seeing the NICU onstage as a setting for musical numbers, with all the beeping machines and hospital sounds incorporated. Imagine as Charlie's own point of view began to emerge in song. Imagine Oliver watching from another dimension, like Billy in "Carousel." I'm crying already.

[susie specter]

SO marvelous to see the two of you out and about and enjoying the places that you love so much! Tis a fine life indeed!xoxo to all three of you dears!

[Margaret Sutton]

I am so glad I found your blog, Danny. You and your wife and Charlie are just so amazing and inspiring that you make us all question how large our own problems really are. My grandson had a brain hemorrhage at the age of 18 months and I well recall the days/nights of terror my daughter suffered through (she's also described the aftermath as similar to PTSD), but he's going on 12 now and is the smartest kid in his class, although he will never be the most athletic or coordinated. Each child brings their own special gifts and it certainly sounds like your Charlie has brought many. Blessings to you and your family. And keep on writing -- I LOVE your blog!

Maggie

[Robin]

Thanks Danny Miller for ruining my makeup as tears of black stream down my checks! I could not agree with you more about" Simple pleasures" and the way you described your outing with Charlie brought me joy! I could picture the two of you, and the singing( I am so much like that) poo-poo on anyone who did not understand the emotions you allow yourself to feel( you're very healthy) I would have sat there smiling at a father and son, with my makeup running down my checks had I been there! You made me feel like we all were there! So happy your Charlie Boy is home and enjoying the things he loves to do with his amazing family! God Bless you all!

[A]

Charlie suddenly looks much less like a baby/toddler and much more a (beautiful)little boy. You've all been through an experience that stretched you pretty hard, and it's no wonder that it takes some time to find your previous comfort level in your own newly sensitized skins. I don't think anyone in the world makes better use of show tunes than you!

[pat e]

Wow! Haven't read your blog in a while...I love reading the posts about Charlie (so cute and so sweet). I was shocked to see your recent troubles...I cried my way through your updates about Charlie. I could feel your pain and it pained me to see and hear of Charlie's suffering. Overjoyed to see him back on track! Wishing all the best for you and your family. Will be keeping all of you in my prayers. All the best of life to you and yours!

[Juli]

So happy that you two are out and about. SO HAPPY. x