Easter 2019 family photo

All y'all take Easter pictures in front of the flowerful trees and blue skies... and then there's us in the dark kitchen. Oh well. You can always click on it to see it larger. I was in heels, so Carrie is standing on tiptoes to even things out. She is really getting close to me in height!

Photo credit goes to Pap. There's your hair picture, everybody, haha!

Health, one year later, and assorted teasers

*photos, so viewer discretion advised if needed*

I promise I am not this color in real life, haha; dunno what is with looking like this! So this is what my skin looks like 4 months post-radiation. I'm trying to remember to lotion it daily. There is still a patch on the back of my shoulder of darker skin as well, but I couldn't get a good shot of it in the mirror with my phone. 

Overall, I'm feeling really good, for those of you who are keeping tabs on me. I'm on the other end of allergies/sinus/cold; around Easter weekend I felt like I'd walked into a sliding glass door. All that pressure and underwater gunkage feeling like your head is a bowling ball and you don't dare lean over to tie your shoes for fear you won't be able to right yourself again. Then it headed down and I started coughing. Soon I sounded worse than I felt for a few days and now I'm rarely coughing. Yay!

My hair is back, another yay! People keep asking if I'm going to grow it out again or keep it short. Time will tell. My friend who trimmed and tidied it told me it takes awhile for the top of your head to catch up to everywhere else. She said once my duck fuzz turns back into real hair it'll cooperate a little better, haha, and that I was to wait eight weeks before seeing her again or I'd feel like I was making no progress at all. My mom said, "your hair has always been attractive but now it is CUTE!" Thanks, Mom =)

Friday was my one year anniversary since the official "yes, you have breast cancer" diagnosis. I want to take a minute to thank everybody who sent anything physically like mail or blankets or cookies. Thanks for carving out time to run that errand. Every single one was appreciated. And not one less iota of thanks to those of you who prayed for me and sent me good juju throughout this year. I seriously would not be in the good shape (round is a shape!) I'm in if you hadn't invested in me. Thank you for checking in, for letting me know you were keeping track of the blog, for the facebook encouragement, all of it. Thank you, Tribe!

And now another minute to remind everyone to not put off those doctors' appointments. That goes for you, too, men; I'm not only preaching to the ladies here. There are trained professionals who want to help you be your best you! Fixing problems when they're small or early can save you tons of time and money and aggravation and heartache later on. AND LET PEOPLE HELP. For goodness sake, you are a human being, not a burden, so stop suffering in silence and ask for what you need! Be specific. You matter!

Last Thursday, just before my one year anniversary, I had my last infusion of Herceptin and Perjeta. Hooray! My blood counts looked good (WBC 3.96, HGB 12.3, PLT 123- that was for my nurse friends) though white blood cells were down a little bit because of my germs. My fabulous nurses hugged me and made me cry, of course. I'll be back in six weeks to check to see how the new oral meds that I start in three weeks are working. I have the best nurses. *beam*

And life just keeps going on!  The house is an absolute wreck as we were busy doing projects all weekend. You know, little things like planting seeds in the garden, sunny patch out back  who am I kidding, the swamp that is supposed to be a garden. And huge things like the big kids passing their fight test to become certified second degree black belts, wahoo! Toss in church, a hike through the closest woods with Bosley the mud-dog, Carrie having a friend sleep over, actual sunshine to play catch outside in, and apparently a lot of snacks judging by the wrappers and crumbs strewn everywhere. Shake, add more mud, and you pretty much have it. Grandmama helped a ton last week but it already looks like there has been no parental supervision for a week. 

Some idiot (I blame Delores) took too many pictures during the fight test (and the other two tests, as usual) so once I'm done sifting through my own mess I'll get those posted. 

For anyone interested, graduation will be Saturday, May 11, so let us know if you'd like to come see the big kids get their new belts! Liam and Damon have decided they do not wish to continue training right now (here's where you feel free to channel Iago from Disney's Aladdin, "this is me about to die from NOT SURPRISE!") but Carrie really, really wants the sword that comes with your official third degree black belt and since she's working there anyway she might as well keep training. If you need a butt kicked, she's your girl. Haha!

And for all of you, May is right around the blessed corner. I know. Moms everywhere just burst into tears. Remember, May is only one month. School is almost done. Before you know it, all those projects and papers and presentations and book reviews and wax museum days and spring sports and field trips and school lunches will be things of memory. Breathe. You've got this.

And then they will be home all day, but that's another post altogether.

Witching hour

I apologize in advance for the pinball effect my brain is taking while writing this post. The night before last I woke up at 3:30 with a hot flash, 4:15 when Damon used the bathroom, 5:45 when Dada's first alarm went off, 6 when Carrie got into the shower, and I got up for good at 6:15. Last night I was awake again at three. I looked it up, idly wondering if 3 AM has any other names, and discovered it's called the witching hour. Here I've been using that interchangeably with the time between the kids waking up and leaving for school, the time they get home/eat dinner/attempt homework/leave for karate, and bedtime. I've told Dada on numerous occasions that I live three witching hours on a daily basis. Now I'll have to think of something else to call them. 

Anyway, what a bizarre beginning of spring. It's supposed to be a time of new life and warmth and vibrance. Saturday was close to 70 degrees. Last Saturday it snowed. Yesterday it was almost 70 again, yet tomorrow it's to be not quite 50. 

But that's not even what I'm talking about. 

Our high school lost a student this week, and, in the midst of state testing which happens on various days in different schools this week, one of our elementary schools received a bomb threat. 

My first thoughts were anger and frustration, and I almost blogged something incendiary and name-calling. Then I thought about how that could be like adding accelerant to a fire. Even if only my heart were affected, it wouldn't be a good or even helpful route. So I waited. And I thought some more. 

I'm still thinking, still processing all of the thoughts swirling around in my head. Our high schooler is a sophomore, the same year as the student who has passed away, though they didn't travel in the same circles. I myself was a sophomore when I lost a classmate to suicide, many, many moons ago. The similarities are striking; well-liked and active are the adjectives I'm seeing in the news. My heart won't even let me imagine the devastation his family and friends must be experiencing.

To go from that tragedy to receiving a phone call describing a received bomb threat and the sequence of events that sets into motion simply renders me speechless. How badly must you feel about yourself to attempt to win attention by threatening an elementary school? How is there nobody in someone's life to speak reason and truth and love into a desperate spirit? 

Who else are we missing?

My heart aches for these small kids who are already on edge about the big, scary state tests who are now reluctant to go to their school where they have every right to feel safe and loved. They should be enjoying the sunshine at recess, not worrying about bomb-sniffing dogs missing something important. My particular third grader wasn't reassured that the school would be checked and cleared last night because what if someone did something early this morning after they'd checked? No eight year old anywhere should have to have that cross their mind. And to the heroes who are teachers, I'm sorry that it has to cross your minds as well. Your jobs are hard enough already!

I get it that life for us here is mostly easy. I am well aware of true horrors happening the world over and that my kids have an incredibly cushy life by comparison.  And no joke, Billy Joel's "We Didn't Start the Fire" is playing right now as I type, reminding me that bad things happening is nothing new. 

It makes me ask, what are we missing? If looked at logically, we are making lots of positive steps: Buddy Benches, lunch and recess buddies, zero tolerance for bullying, all excellent components for a community of inclusion. I understand that there will always be those who slip through the cracks, deliberately or accidentally. 

My faith answers that we are forgetting to include someone in our strategies, the one who will go on once we are dead, gone, and forgotten. Whoever you are, whatever you're struggling with, and we are all struggling with at least one something, you need to know that you matter and that you are loved. We are for the most part so careful to teach this to small people, but the truth is that no matter how old we grow we will not need to be loved any less. We may be able to hide that we need it or even trick ourselves into thinking that we don't, but it most certainly is not the truth. 

A lot of people talk about taking God out of our schools. It can't be done. He is everywhere. However, where we need him most is in our hearts. If we invite him in, we will be secure in our identity in him and will not need to threaten violence in order to seek attention. If we invite him in, our small and human ability to love and accept others will be greatly increased as we access his love and forgiveness. I'm not saying that life with Christ in your heart is perfect; none of us can achieve that, not here in this broken world. I AM saying that life is better because you're not alone, because you have access to resources you don't have innately yourself, because you grow a community and a tribe and a family, because you matter and when you know that you matter, you realize that other people do, too. Other flawed, broken, misguided, unlovely people.  People with addictions, attitudes, and mistakes hanging onto them as a heavy chain holds an unruly dog. We have got to learn who to give this Stuff to so that our hands can be open to reach out to help free others. We need to stop holding on to what separates us from each other. 

Nobody should be afraid to go to school. Nobody should feel like there is not one person out there who gets them. Yes, we are all busy, but busy doing what? Are we busy doing what is going to make a positive impact in someone else's life? What would it look like if our hearts were full enough of compassion for others that there was no room left in them for fear? I realize that only one of us isn't going to save the world. Recycle anyway. Volunteer anyway. Love anyway. Forgive anyway. Bless others anyway. It's only a drop in the bucket, you say. Yes, but look; the ripples from that single drop changes the surface of the entire bucket. Better families lead to healthier communities, which bring up our state, which strengthens our nation, which helps stabilize the world. Do good for others. You might help save us all.