Filed under: Family
I had a weird little conversation with one of my small humans this morning. One that managed to ruffle my righteous indignation and sense of justice. It went a little something like this.
“How was school, Jack?”
“It was fine. I had some trouble with the racist teachers not letting me play with my friends.”
“I’m sorry, say that again?”
“My teachers, the racist teachers… they won’t let me play with my friends that I want to.”
” They won’t let you play with these friends? Why? Which friends?” I can feel my hackles start to raise. Mommy don’t play this game.
“All of my friends,” he said. “I have all kinds of friends.”
He is pretty awesome, if you ask me.
“You should be able to play with whomever you want to, Jack. Having lots of different friends is what makes life interesting.” I was mentally scheduling time in my day to call the teachers and see what was going on. There is no way this was happening in 2019.
“That’s what I said,” he replied. “I just want to play with everybody… but then they tell me it’s time to go back into school.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, when recess is over. The racist teachers make us go inside.”
“The racist teachers?” I asked.
“Yes, the ones that watch the playground while we play.”
“Your recess teachers?”
“Yes, what did you think I said?”
“Your racist teachers.”
“What does that mean?” he asked.
“People who don’t like people who look different than them.”
“Well that’s just stupid.”
Crisis averted. No one is corrupting my sweet boy. And there is hope for the future, since hating someone who looks different is stupid. Next we work on our enunciation.
Filed under: Cancer, Family, Health, Pink | Tags: Cancer, chemo, fighter, Health
So, I am almost done with chemo. Out of four sessions, I have one left to go. All of this has happened so very quickly, which is a blessing in disguise. I think if I had too much time to dwell on things it would be much harder. I find I do better in a whirlwind. (I will give you all a moment to find your surprised face.) Here are some of the lessons that I have learned throughout the chemo process, however.
Glitter In The Air
When you dye your hair pink and it starts to fall out, there is a bit of cognitive dissonance. When I decided it was time to buzz it all off, it didn’t seem like my hair. It looked more like a Muppet had exploded on the back patio. Then, as that started to fall out, in the sunshine, the pink bits of hair could almost be mistaken for glitter. I have to admit that I loved the idea of bald Muppets and being followed by a trail of glitter more than I probably should have. In the few days before session two, I said goodbye to my almost all of my hair.
Now The Hard Part
Luckily, my doctors have been pretty great about keeping the sickness at bay. I am on more anti-nausea meds than I can count, but it keeps the really yucky side effects to a minimum. I am tired and run down, but only for a few days. A few extra naps and some pampering from my family and I tend to bounce back.
The hard part, through this has been twofold. The first, and most admittedly the vain part, is the loss of my hair. I could deal with a really, really short ‘do. I could even handle things with a buzz cut, all things considered. The patchy baldness, I could definitely go without… but I have some pretty cool hats. I have become a master of penciling in my eyebrows too. And I have some pretty cool wigs, that if I were less of an awkward human being I might even be able to wear in public. (The first wig lasted all of an hour before I was batting it out of my face and picking it out of my teeth.)
I think the hard part is never feeling dressed up, or put together. I looked at my buzz cut as my combat look, as I battle this stupid disease. And while I have never been one to shy away from combat boots with formal wear (thank you 1990’s) it does make it harder to feel girly. In the scheme of things, I guess this just means that my definition of “girly” is just going to change… as will the phrase fight like a girl. This is not and will never be an insult to me again. 
And The Even Harder Part
The harder part is learning when to ask for help. I am admittedly a little controlling, a little bossy… we will just say I am FULL of leadership skills. But when you are down for the count with a cocktail of poison swimming through your veins it is hard to do all you need and want to do. This is the position I am least comfortable with. I have always been the “do-for-yourself” type, and reluctantly ask for help. Which is why, all of the notes and the calls, and the text messages mean so much. Because there are a lot of people out there who know that I don’t ask for help… and yet they keep offering. There are a ton of people who simply know that the best help is to just reach out and say hi. And there are plenty who don’t take my (bullshit) no for an answer. Admitting that I need help is the hardest part sometimes, but knowing that I don’t always have to admit it… well that just makes me one lucky girl indeed.
So, from fuzzy wuzzy, the woman who is willing to fight like a girl, thanks for all of the support. The best is yet to come. On the 14th of December I will ring the bell at my final chemotherapy treatment, and while my fight is not over; this will be a bit of the battle that I feel like I have won thanks to a pretty amazing group of friends.
My face upon learning that cookie butter does not have the same amount of protein as peanut butter.
So, when life hands you lemons… amiright? I have decided that since I have only this body that I should try to take better care of it. I started watching what I eat, trying to be more active, and in general, trying to treat my body like a temple rather than a carnival. I would like to say that this is an epiphany I discovered out of a spiritual desire to be healthier. In reality, if I have to go through cancer and multiple surgeries my light at the end of the tunnel is that I want to look smoking hot when it is all said and done. So I have started operation #hotmombod (super deep, I know.) This means using an app called MyFitness Pal to help track everything I am doing.
Working Out Is Hard To Do
It has been eyeopening to say the least. One thing that comes to mind is that I don’t move around nearly as much as I thought I did. Also, it is apparently ill advised to have an appetizer doughnut before your main course doughnut. Chinese knock-offs of fit-bits are both awesome and terrible. Awesome, because the model that I bought seems to want to inflate my steps like an overzealous bestie… Let’s face it fat-bot, you and I both know that I didn’t walk 250 steps from my couch to the bathroom but I like that you are trying to make me feel better. Terrible when, after a couple of weeks, your fat-bot starts to malfunction… (or I have mastered the art of time travel) I know that fat-bot did not record my activities in 2008 nor is it 2020, so I think it may be dying. I think I can burn at least a few calories taking a hammer to the stupid thing. It can only be classified as a mercy killing at this point.
I am trying to be more mindful of my activities now, which is a good thing. And MyFitness Pal has quite an array of activities to choose from. I was super bummed to know that my favorite yoga move, the corpse pose, doesn’t burn as many calories as I had hoped. By apparently laundry burns a decent amount, and my family is ALWAYS willing to contribute to that activity, so there’s that. I do feel that MyFitness Pal is missing some of my favorite exercising activities however, and I am genuinely curious as to how many calories these burn.
A simpler time, when doughnuts reigned.
My “Favorite” Exercises
- Putting on a sports bra on a wet body
- Taking off said sports bra after “arm” day
- Wiping the face of three year old
- OMG we over-slept, let’s make it to the school bus sprints (the adrenaline has to count for extra calories here.)
- Typing, and then rapidly deleting and re-typing that snarky comment that you can’t send (but kind of want to.) Is rage typing a thing?
- Reloading the dishwasher after someone loaded it WRONG
- Competitive sock hunting
- Speed reading a REALLY good book, flipping pages FAST! What if its a really thick book? Weights?
- In a related vein, speed crocheting (yes, I am an 80 year old woman at times)
- Carrying all the groceries in one trip. Laziness for the win.
- Hot laps around Target (may be canceled out by the GINORMOUS latte purchased at Starbucks in the front.)
Am I missing any? I will start to petition MyFitness Pal to include these in their activity offerings. I will keep you posted on my progress. Ridiculous petitioning… that has to be worth at least 30 calories, right?
Filed under: Family | Tags: Alice in Wonderland, family, imagine, impossible, kids
“Sometimes I have believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast,” Lewis Carroll from Alice in Wonderland
I have always loved Alice in Wonderland; the zany and mad tale of a girl lost in a land that revels in the absurd. I, for one, think the absurd is far too underrated and often amuse myself by thinking of absurd things all day long. For example, when my daughter made the rule that we must dress as our favorite princess for Halloween I reveled in the idea of putting my six foot four husband in a sparkly blue Cinderella dress. (I still maintain that he would look fantastic; blue is his color after all.) I have a month to make it happen.
This got me to thinking though, what impossible things could I believe before breakfast? Or better yet, what impossible things do I wish I could do? Here is my list:
- I would invent and utilize the morning machine as seen on the Jetsons. You know the one; simply hop on the conveyor belt on one end and arrive on the other dressed and ready with a cup of hot coffee in hand. It would make mornings in my house a much more pleasant experience.
I wish it were this easy.
- I would have a chat with my great-grandpa Pop O’Brien; my dad’s grandfather. He died when I was little and the stories I have heard about him over the years has elevated him to superhero status in my mind. An Irish immigrant, he came over at a time when the Irish weren’t very popular and managed to raise some of the coolest people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. (Including my saucy and fun grandma.) I wonder sometimes, though, what it would be like to talk to him as an adult. To get a true sense of who he was outside of the myth.
- To that end, I would also have a chat with my Great Grandma “Happy”; who died the year I was born. How cool is the nickname Grandma Happy? Although later I learned she was named after the dog… a little less cool now that I think about it. I know she too would have amazing stories to tell me, as a Mexican immigrant in a small town. Her husband left her soon after they immigrated, with thirteen children and not even a basic understanding of the English language. I would like to thank her for raising an amazing woman in my grandmother; who has taught me everything I know about hard work and determination. (Basically, she is the person who taught me how to be a stubborn steam-roller. Blame her.) Really, there are so many in my family that have come and gone that I would like to talk to as an adult. My grandpa Elmer Everett, or Mac as everyone called him; what would he have thought of my kids? I think he would have appreciated his little namesake, Madison Everett; the one who thinks we all need to dress as princesses. These are the people that have shaped our family and in turn made me… well me.
It looks like Grandpa Mac liked the absurd too, at least I hope that is what this picture is about.
- For this impossible coffee talk with my ancestors I would invent a magical chocolate chip cookie that tastes fantastic, clears up your skin and helps you lose weight (and does not involve ex-lax as an ingredient.) If I am going to dream the impossible I may as well dream big.
- I would find a magic bottle (labeled drink me of course) that would keep my babies young, happy and healthy. Then I would need a tea cake (this one labeled eat me, duh) that would help me raise well adjusted, smart and successful adults. Between the two we could revel in the best that life has to offer; the joys of being a young parent with the satisfaction of seeing your kids grow up with none of the messy heartache in between.
- Oh, and I would solve that whole world peace thing too. I mean dream big or not at all.
It dawns on me now; I think I can believe these impossible things. Well maybe not the Jetson machine or the magic cookies. But I can meet my great-grandparent through conversations with the family I have now. I can learn about them through the stories that I wasn’t quite old enough to hear as a little kid, I only have to ask. I can freeze time for my kids by writing down all of these little stories and antics now so I can share with them as they grow older. This idea seems all the more poignant this morning as learned that my dear friend has lost her grandmother last night. I can believe in at least three impossible things before breakfast, I simply must take the time to do so. Because time, as my friend can attest, runs out before you know it.
So the time has come, as I must say, to talk of many things. Not shoes and ships and sealing wax, but family and kids, fiction and facts… and because we are Irish, cabbages and kings.
a life just ordinary 