Calm Before The Cancer Storm

I took a weekend off recently. We went away for a late anniversary weekend and then I took a couple of days to myself, a little "calm before the cancer storm" time. The reality in what I have ahead has been catching up to me.

Getting away always has a "careful what you wish for" feel to it. I'm always ready to get away, I need to get away, it's important to get away, but the minute I get away... I feel bad about leaving. I will miss the girls and feel guilty that I have left them (even though there are many teenage assurances that I am not needed in any way.) There is less guilt as the years go by, but there are still small enough doses that hit you at some point in your time away.

Paige had Senior prom while I was gone. I had her all ready to go, left some money, and checked in often. She was fine with my absence. She is responsible, independent and has a nice group of friends who have their feet firmly planted on the ground.  We had done our nails together earlier in the week for prom and life. It was a special afternoon for me. She invited me.  I spent the morning peeling off nail polish that didn't need replacing so that I could have my nails done with her. This was the important time with her. This was the memory she and I will remember and cherish. I know this, but still, you get caught up in the Instagram and Facebookness of it all and lose sight of what's important.  

There was a moment about mid day Saturday when she needed some help. We handled it all on the phone. It was minor, nothing serious, but still, I panicked and flooded myself with guilt. What was wrong with me? Why hadn't I stayed to help her through these 7 minutes in person? Why wasn't I taking pictures by greenery and wine barrels? Why was I such a terrible mother? All this had me crying to my own mother by a fire pit in Tahoe. 

It passed. All was fine, with both her and me. She resumed with prom and I resumed celebrating 25 years of marriage. All the while my husband gambled and really had no idea there was even a prom taking place. The difference between moms and dads.

Last competitive dance weekend for the year has come and gone. I am 17 years and 4 kids into dance and 7 years and 3 kids into the competitive side. I can do a million blogs on what my girls have gleamed from it the experience of it all, but this last weekend I took some time  to think about what it had done for me. I am not a big "engager." Meaning in 17 and 7 years, I had yet to give in to the community of it all for myself. Simply put, I didn't have any dance mom friends. It will take a deeper look and blog to decide what that says about me in a big picture kind of way, but for whatever reason, this year I let lose a little and opened myself up, and I have some people. 

It was good timing on my part, because it turns out I need them. I am grateful they came into my life and that I was mature enough to let a wall down and meet some ladies that are making a difference in my daughter's life and mine. 

People will tell me I am strong or inspirational or give me some positive accolade as I blog through life and now a second round of cancer. And I am a decent person. But the real truth is that if I am even half of what people tell me I am...it is only because I surround myself with really good people. 

I have text "threads," this word makes my girls cringe, or group texts if you will with a few different groupings of people. And every group makes me smile and laugh and think and prioritize what is important and regain perspective and persevere over everything from the fuckery of the mundane (teens) to the fuckery of life (cancer.) 


I have surgery Thursday. The rest of my treatment will follow depending on how the surgery goes. I'm good, with whatever they tell me and with whatever follows. 

Take some time time to laugh a little on Thursday. Take a moment to take a deep breath on Thursday. If you send me texts wait for replies that will make no sense as they will be  loopy and drug induced and without my strong glasses that have recently been lost at dance competitive weekend. A perfect storm of crazy that should have us laughing by the weekend. 

Damn It Rachel Ray

On my way to my follow up mammogram appointment, after a suspicious read the week before, I heard on the news that Rachel Ray was bringing back her show, "30 Minute Meals." Probably most of America was unfazed by this news. To me, on my way to the re-do mammogram appointment, it was like a kick in the gut. Really Rachel Ray? Really? Not nice!

I knew I had breast cancer again before they told me I had breast cancer again. There was a certain deja vu to it all twelve years later. The first time there was this moment in the mammogram room. An instant where it all changed. A sucking of the air that just took everything out of the room. A mood shift, or a shift in conscious, I don't really know. I'm not someone who normally thinks that way, or relies on their senses to figure things out. I am a very black and white, wrong or right concrete thinker. But that day, that day in the mammogram room, I just knew.

It was the same this time as well, a sucking of air out of the room. And there was, of course, the Rachel Ray news. But I put it aside and told myself I was being dramatic. That I would just go to the re-do of the mammogram with an open mind and relax.

I let myself get too relaxed. The re-do turned out to be about 20 re-do's, followed by an ultra sound and then a biopsy and then another mammogram. Four hours of intense breast fuckery, followed by "Go home and wait. We will let you know later this week." Except I already knew. So waiting seemed mean. Waiting meant knowing that I had breast cancer again, but still holding on to the glimmer of hope that they would tell me the 21 mammograms, ultra sound and biopsy  had been wrong, it was just a small pocket of air they were seeing in my breast.

So here I am. Round two of breast cancer. Mad at myself for not taking off this stupid second breast 12 years ago. For not demanding a double mastectomy. But, I couldn't. twelve years ago I was 38 with four kids ages 2-10, working full time and it all just happened so damn fast. I didn't have the ability to stop and think and slow things down. I was just getting by, just trying to get past it all, just trying to survive, and I did, survive...for 12 more years.


I always tell people this about cancer...there is a before, a during and an after. The before makes you wistful. Caught up in the melancholy of, "Oh, I remember when I did this before cancer and now I can't." The during is a blur. You just can't believe what is happening is your actual life. And then there is the after where you are relieved and grateful and a whole different perspective fills your life.

I have had a good 10 years of the after. Really good. And now I sit here, wistful because those 10 years have become my before in the blink of an eye. I'm about to enter the "during." But, the after will come.

I'm at peace with it all, I am. I don't have the chaos of 12 years ago. I have an amazing support system in family and friends. I ripped the band aid fast and told those closest to me, some who were there for the last band aid rip and some who are new to the pull.My life is different now. I have great luxuries. I don't have to work, my children aren't children that need to be protected, they are mostly adults, I even have a son now to join my support team.

So in this house, breast cancer is funny, because for me it has to be. I have great doctors, we are moving fast, and I'm ready for this second journey of breast cancer. I have some funny blogs from round one and I am sure round two will keep us all entertained as well. 

The first time I found cancer it was Rosie O'Donell on The View nagging me every day in October to check my breasts. This time it was Rachel Ray reminding me that I would snuggle with two year old Mary on a chair each night and watch "30 Minute Meals" while resting from surgeries and chemo. 

So, laugh with me. When you read this and worry that you have to do something for me, laugh with me. It's what I want most. Last time I got 12 great years for my after. I will take another 12 after this bump in the road and see what it brings. 

Graduation Imperfection

I have now received my 900th email reminder from the high school graduation cap and gown company. They are very worried about me because I, as a parent of a graduating high school Senior, have not taken advantage of their MANY offers to buy a cap and gown.

I am on my third high school graduate with a final one to follow in three years. I also have one college graduate under my belt. I've done some things well, and I've screwed some things up. But in the end, everyone graduated and they all move on with what is important about the graduation...life.

When our oldest graduated from high school I was a working mom of four. Always just keeping my head above water. I learned that year with graduation and college applications that a lot had changed in the 30 years since I had graduated and  gone off to college. It was a lot. Some of it important, a lot of it totally unnecessary. 

Somehow I missed the 900 emails about the cap and gown that first go around, but managed to read the one that said, "This is IT!!! If you don't order now you will not have a cap and gown and you will NOT be in the graduation ceremony." So, at midnight with limited technology resources I ordered, it turns out, two sets of caps and gowns. Excellent say I, I have four girls, I am ahead of the game and now I have one for the next kid. It was shocking that three years later in December (while looking for Santa hats, of which I own about 100 because I cannot keep them in a place I remember so they are purchased new each year for a local light parade that I no longer can stand) I found the cap and gown. I hung it up in our spare closet and felt proud to be ready for the big day five months early. 

When graduation arrived for second child. I handed her the cap and gown for practice and off she went. I felt accomplished. Until she came home terribly upset because her cap had a tassel and emblem on it with the year from three years ago. Hmmmmm...hadn't thought about that. I started to panic. Multiple solutions running through my mind. Would Hobby Lobby have a 2017 gold emblem? Sometimes those graduation picture frames have them, could I rip that apart and make it work? Would someone graduating  another day from a different high school loan us theirs? What about someone who had flunked out at the last minute? 

In the end, I ripped the old emblem off and she wore the cap and gown with a tassel and no emblem. In what can only be shocking news to everyone...it did not matter in the least. Not for one minute, not for one second, not in a single picture with people that had an emblem, not in our memories of the night, it did not matter at all. She had graduated. She was ready to move on with...life.

Today the cap and gown hang in the spare closet. They are ready for child number three. She will wear the same cap and gown. I may or may not order the emblem package for it. I will see how I feel when the 901st email comes. It isn't that we can't afford the cap and gown, we can. It isn't that I don't care about my child's education and great achievement. I do. I'm just trying to keep a perspective on things. A perspective that tends to get lost as we parent this new generation of children. I have tried to learn and understand  that everything doesn't have to be perfect in the way that others define perfect. She will graduate. She will move on with...life.

College graduation number one was perfect. Well, perfectly imperfect. Well, my kind of perfect. She graduated, with honors, from a great college on Mother's Day weekend. Only my husband and I attended. Two girls were heading into high school finals and one was across country in New York. I learned long ago that I wasn't going to get a family of six together for every event. And since we are hopeful they will all graduate from college, and since  I raised them to think outside the norm and they are choosing colleges far away, and our lives just keep getting more spread apart, the writing was on the wall. We would never get everyone to every college graduation.  

Also, I was being selfish. I wanted to enjoy her. I wanted to enjoy what she had done. I did not want to do what I have to do when we are all together as a large family. I did not want to juggle and handle the many vibrant personalities in our family. In keeping with the selfish theme, as mother of the graduate, I had planned my outfit carefully. The graduation was in San Diego. San Diego in May. Beautiful, always sunny San Diego. Having finally dealt with some middle age weight issues successfully and knowing it would be sunny, I bought a darling black sundress. And then I bought big girl shoes to go with it. This meaning that they were not purchased from Marshalls. They were a beautiful, full priced, gorgeous sandal purchased at a high end department store. I deserved them! I was the mother of a college graduate! 

We flew down. Had a wonderful lunch with the graduate and her boyfriend at the beach before graduation. It was a little chilly. I had no jacket, because you know, It is May in always sunny San Diego. So I had to borrow a jacket form my daughter. My daughter, who has no middle age weight issues loaned me a darling jean jacket...that I really couldn't move my arms in because it was so tight. But, still, the denim was cute with my all black. 

Upon arriving at graduation. Rain. A slow drizzle of cold yuckiness. Most mother attendees are all in sundresses. I am not the only middle aged mother in a sundress that refused to change the planned outfit. We are all a little miserable, but pretending not to be. 

Our graduate walks off to her designated spot to march and we start to look for our entrance to the inside graduation. I am grateful to be escaping the cold drizzle. And then the call comes. Nicole is down at her meeting spot (far, far away) and her shoe has broken. She isn't able to walk in them and it is almost time for her to go inside the final gate to graduation. So, I send my husband and the boyfriend to the bookstore to purchase flip flops for me while I hurry to give her the new fabulous shoes.

So there I am in my fabulous sundress, too tight jacket, flip flops and wet hair. The best laid plans. She is one of the last to graduate in a very full auditorium of graduates. As people graduate, they leave. Oddly, they just leave. Their families just leave. She texts after her name and asks if we should leave. I say, "No. Let's stay. I feel for the people that are left. Someone should hear their name." Four and five years of really hard work. No one can wait an extra thirty minutes for all to graduate? The upside was we had no traffic leaving. 

Afterwards it was too cold for pictures, we are all a little cranky and starving and it was anti climatic at best. It was that night that made it all amazing.

That night was my perfection. She came to our hotel and the three of us had the most amazing dinner. I won't give all our personal details, but it was a full circle moment from the dinner the three of us shared when we dropped her off four years prior. She was amazing. Her actions were amazing. Her thoughtfulness and gratitude were amazing. College had made her amazing. Parenting is tough and I spend most waking hours focusing on all the things I have done wrong, and there are many. But, for this one night I got to focus every moment on what I had done right. She had graduated. She was ready...for life.

It is January. The next five months will race by. Some of you are racing toward a high school or college graduation of your own. Navigate your own course. Don't get caught up in the emblem or the outfit, those things may or may not work out.  They will graduate. You will all move on with..life.

2018

New Year's Eve. I'm ready. Well, I am sort of ready. My brother and I have decided to channel our Southern roots and we are doing our first ever "low country boil." I have text directions from my southern cousins, my father has texted about the importance of finding a good sausage, my brother and I ran up a large Costco bill (and we didn't even buy alcohol), we have food prepped and we are ready. Except we may or may not be waiting on the boil equipment to arrive from Fed Ex. 
We totally are, waiting for it to arrive.
And our children may or may not be tired of us saying (multiple times), "Does everyone know we are having a New Year's Boil? Is everyone coming to the New Year's Boil? Who's excited for the New Year's Boil?" 
They totally are, tired of us saying theses things.

Not only are they tired of us saying it, they are  completely unimpressed with it at all. But that is my life with teenagers, completely unimpressed with anything I am doing. It is also the first year where we will basically have only one kid home for New Year's Eve. My fourth grade nephew stands alone. All others from age 10 to 19 have found plans and excused themselves from the Low Country Boil.

New York girl is home. So I feel like our TV runs Sex and the City and Gossip Girl on loop. I am worried as I write they will both take over my writing voice causing me to ask and answer questions in Carrie Bradshaw style as well as end the blog with xoxo Gossip Girl.

Is it harder to say good-bye to the old year when the year has been good? (There's Carrie)

2018 was a really good year for me, for us, for our family. I find myself looking back on so many amazing (and surreal) milestones and looking forward to some big ones still to come. It was a year with no regret that lived up to the promise it had for us on New Year's Eve last year. In fact, it has far exceeded it's promise.

Highlights include:
A college graduation, 21st birthday and engagement for our oldest. That's a lot. She can slow down in 2019.

A year and a half of successful life in New York City for our college girl. While school is not her favorite thing,  she is getting it done and she has a work ethic like no other. Great jobs and a hard worker. 

Senior year progressing and college applications completed with a couple of early acceptances. She can breathe easy as she awaits the rest. 

And as always...and then there's Mary. High School started and studying reluctantly, and competitive dance daily with great dedication. In 2019 she will be an only child.

I cruised into 50 on a ship with my Southern Auntie and Cousins. It was amazing in every way. Another thing that far exceeded any expectation I had. Blog on this to follow.

Corey made a small, but significant change with his business. 

We we were blessed.  2018 was just an amazing year. Possibly our best in the last decade.

I find myself tentative about sending it off. How can 2019 fill such big shoes?

In November I saw To Kill A Mockingbird in New York on Broadway.  It also far exceeded any and every expectation I had. And as a lifetime To Kill a Mockingbird devotee as well as lover of all  things Aaron Sorkin, my expectations were extremely high. It was three hours long and felt like ten minutes. Jeff Daniels was superb. He made Atticus his own, but you still left with a soft spot for Gregory Peck and his Atticus. Aaron Sorkin was true to Harper Lee and the original story, but subtly kept it relevant to today, as well as adding his talent for masterful, quick dialogue and humor. It was a masterpiece. 

And that's really what 2018 was for us. It was To Kill A Mockingbird on Broadway. A masterpiece that far exceeded every expectation I had, and felt like it went by in ten minutes.

While writing Fed Ex delivered. The sea food boil now waits on the ability of my husband and brother to put the burner together. I have steak to bar b q as a backup. 

Happy New Year to you all. May 2019 be your To Kill A Mockingbird on Broadway and far exceed every expectation you might have. 


xoxo Gossip Girl

Dumb Bell Math and Puppy Paws

"Mary is failing math. The kind of failing where the quarter is over, she has an F and there is not much hope it will get past a D by semester's end when she can move to a different math.

Don't ask me what math she is in, I don't know or understand since math changed. I know she is in a fairly common mid-level math, and we need to get to a basic skills math class. One that was referred to lovingly in my home when I was young as, dumb bell math. But I am sure I am not allowed to call it dumb bell math anymore in fear of offending the masses. To be clear, I took and struggled with dumb bell math, while hearing it called dumb bell math, and grew up successfully to tell the tale."

I wrote this in October. Back when I was still attempting to write. Then I just stopped, writing. I don't know why. A long writer's block I guess. Now it is December and I promised myself I would write something, anything, and post it. Just so I could close out the year with the promise of starting the New Year with some more consistent writing.

Semester ends Friday. She has a D to finish it off. She will transfer to the new math when we return in January. When I ask about her other grades she has told me to wait and be "surprised." With Mary I am unsure if she is hoping to surprise me in a good way, or a bad one. Fourth child, I am not interested in trolling the online grade keeper to see how she is doing. We shall see.

College apps are done and in. Paige has a white board in her room. It used to have a list of all the colleges she was applying to and they were wiped off as she completed. I was in her room this morning and the list has been replaced with a two column graphic organizer labeled Yes and No at the top. She threw a wide net, it will be interesting to see what she catches and where she lands.

College (and post college) girls arrive home this week. Calm before the storm. There is a re-entry re-adjustment for us all as we become a whole family unit again. It takes about three or four days before every one adjusts and settles in. Sadly, now, they are only home three or four days so there is only about an hour where we all like and enjoy each other. It's a really nice hour though.

Our oldest got engaged this month. This is surreal. I have zero idea how we will plan a wedding in this day and age. It all seems really detail oriented. Not my strong suit. He's great. We love and adore him. She's young. He has some citizenship challenges. This all concerned my husband for about a minute, as long as anything really concerns him besides work. I finally had to say, "We weren't much older and I am 25 years into a marriage most people at our wedding probably gave 25 weeks." It will work out.

I am in the process of updating our backyard, as one should in the rainy winter  months with dogs. So that they can track in mud and be a general nuisance. I went out this morning to find their little paw marks in my freshly laid cement. I don't hate it. In my beautifully planned, elegant, backyard there will be a trail of little paw prints. Did I mention I am not detail oriented? They will be there forever. Probably unnoticed by most. One because people don't tend to look down, and two because I really don't invite people over anymore at this stage in my life.

They are a bit of a metaphor (simile? symbol?) for my life, those paw prints. Really nice, well designed life with the best of intentions, but then...some permanent paw prints run right through it change the aesthetic.

2018 was a really good year. Looking forward to seeing where the paw prints lead me next year!

Observing May

May is a killer.
No really, an absolute killer,
Graduations, end of year banquets, end of year pictures, awards assemblies, end of year permission slips flying around, outfits and shoes needed for the events, and the list goes on and on and on and on.
May is a killer.

Here's what I have observed:

-I am handing out money and checks on an hourly, possibly minute by minute, basis. 
-We are never going to be prepared a week or two ahead of time with a complete outfit. One of the girls will always be yelling, "I need shoes, bra, belt, white button down (insert item here)" an hour before we leave.
-When the weather goes south before an event, there are a lot of moms standing around looking cold and pissed in an outfit that was carefully planned for months around a different weather outlook and dammit we are middle aged and not deviating from the plan
-Awards ceremonies are attended 50/50 by parents who were dying to come, and parents who are over it
-The physics Rube Goldberg Project (I may not even be spelling or naming it correctly) is fuckery...every time no matter the child or their dedication to it
-Unless the awards have a category for sarcasm or funny...we aren't getting one
-I don't need to take a group picture. Someone always takes a better one than me and I can steal it from Facebook
-This was the best May of my life because I don't work. I have zero idea how I did May for 21 years and worked.
-Someone is always going to say this sentence to me at a May event. "You have four girls? I had no idea. I thought you only had three." Which basically means I had kids through two different age groups so many of these moms have never even seen my oldest child. That and I'm not promoting my blog enough.
-Moving the Middle School awards assembly to a venue with chairs that are both cushioned and have backs was thrilling. I have decided to get the principal a gift card. 
-My husband is never going to know where our kids are on any given night. Even though they have been at the same place, on the same night at the same time for the last nine months. In May he will still say (more than once), "Where do I get Mary?"
-I am always going to lose my shit at some point over something totally stupid and with the wrong kid (sorry Paige, this morning it was you).
-The best life lessons for my girls have come from their low moments in May. Their highest moments have come the next May, when the built themselves back up.
-Now that I don't work, my house does not look like a crack house in May...but the high school Junior's room still does.
-Someone is always going to surprise you in May. Good or Bad you are always going to have a surprise.

We are nearing the end. A week and some change left. Breathe, carry lots of cash, and be ready for summer. 
May is a killer.

Wild Kingdom, Wild Cats Edition

I am having a surreal moment in time. I find myself sitting in the bar area of the Embassy Suites in Portland near the airport. The middle age couple next to me are dressed as Cinderella and I guess Prince Charming. I don't know my Disney Princes. They have told others they are attending a charity event. They should have spent more time on the costumes. It isn't a good look, not even for the Portland Airport Embassy Suites free cocktail reception. 

Behind the couple the TV is on. Fairly typical, except for what is playing on the TV. Not sports, not news, but a Wild Kingdom show on Wild Cats with a very 1970's vibe to it's presentation. Narrated by a man who I feel did the narration for all the videos I saw in Jr. High science classes when the teacher still showed them on a large reel and fed it through a projector. Interestingly, several tables are watching the wild cats. Couples most of them. Middle age couples not dressed as Disney characters. I wonder if Corey were here if we would be watching. Have we run out of things to talk about? Have we reached Wild Kingdom, Wild Cat edition status in our marriage yet? Probably not. We have teenagers, and wine is being served and I get chatty after wine so there is still lots to discuss.  But I am concerned about the couples that are silently engrossed in the show. To be fair, it could be the age of the people watching. It could be we are all just the right age that the narration voice is drawing us in. Forcing us to watch the Wild Cats, but also drawing up ancient memories of being thirteen and the friends we had and the crushes we held secret in our minds. I must also add that a John Denver soundtrack is playing on the surround sound stereo as well. It's a lot to take in.

I didn't plan to start my blog this way. I came down to reflect on Oregon, teens and why I am here. But there was too much going on around me to ignore it. I am starting a third round of "picking a college." Fourth round if I include myself, which I don't. Naomi asked me the other day, in front of other people during a discussion on colleges, "Why did you chose San Diego State?" I replied. "My parents were going through a horrible divorce and I wanted to go very far away." I think it took her a moment to realize she was the parent in the horrible divorce. She stood blinking a moment with a look one gets when they are trying to come up with a name from their past.

I am in Oregon because child number three has said for a year, when I ask about college, "I think I would like to go somewhere in Oregon." I finally said, "Well, perhaps we should GO to Oregon...just to get a sense of what it is like." She reluctantly agreed to spend the weekend with me and we flew up. It has been a whirlwind of driving and visiting campuses. It turns out she will probably not be a Beaver or a Duck  or a Pilot or any of the other Oregon mascots. She liked Oregon and so did I, and it has been a nice trip, but somewhere in the middle of the storm a really inspiring speaker changed her mind.

He was the humanities chair speaking about humanities in the middle of all our visits. We were in the humanities group because Paige is interested in English and writing. Only like any good teacher, he didn't stick to his script, but rather spent the time drawing in his audience and then like any good teacher...he inspired. The jest of the inspiration, after polling parents and students with questions was this, "Don't choose a major because you think it will be practical. Don't choose a major because your parents want you too. Choose something that interests you. Choose something that you love. Choose your passion. It will all turn out alright if you are doing what you love. It won't go so well if you are jumping through hoops for other people or because you think you are doing the right thing."

As we left the session and his speech, Paige said, "That was so great!" I said, "Yes! I loved it! You should definitely take a class from him if you end up here!" And she said, "I don't think I belong in Oregon at all. But I do think I should pursue film and the technical side of film. I was just too scared to admit it and say anything to you."

So, we are regrouping. We are in Oregon on our final night googling schools with film majors and formulating a new game plan. And because I was inspired as well, I am encouraging and helping with the change. I am also questioning myself. Did she start with English and writing because I kept telling her how great (and she is) she is?  Did the idea that this was her passion come from me and not her? I don't really know. But, I was proud that I rebounded quickly with her.

The Cinderella charity couple has left. Wild Cats has wrapped up and been replaced by National news. Tuesday is May 1st and high school seniors will make their choices for college. I hope they all followed their passion. I hope they all had the chance to hear a speech as inspiring as the one Paige and I heard. I hope if I go to a Disney themed charity event I will remember I am 49 and costume accordingly. I hope Wild Kingdom, Wild Cats edition is never more interesting to me then my husband.