I'm still kickin'

 Hiya and happy almost holidays! The title is something my Nana used to say when asked how she was doing. I felt it was fitting to sum up how I'm functioning these days.

For those of you who are panicking because you're not ready, take a deep breath and know that we are right there with you. For those of you who keep getting more things tossed at you in this game called life, take another breath and be still a moment. You're allowed. There is hard stuff happening, and you, too, are not alone. For those of you experiencing a very Blue Christmas, big hugs from us, and more deep breaths, and just do what you can. And if you can't, that is okay, too. Just be. Just breathe. Please know you're loved.

I had the last of the AC part of chemo on Tuesday last week and you guys must have been praying hard, because I was expecting next-door-to-end-of-the-world awfulness but experienced next-door-to-exhaustion instead. Thank you! The nausea has not been fun, but it has been manageable, and I'm still taking as many naps as possible, which helps. The brain fog is real; I've caught myself making out multiple Christmas cards to the same person, so if you end up with three or end up with none- it's my fault either way. Sorry. Next year will be better. Doing a lot of facepalming over here. But, as my Nana said, "I'm doin'."

The next step will be weekly infusions of Taxol for all of the next three months. Supposedly that will be easier on my system and my doc thinks I will handle that well. The new wrinkle will be hands and feet neuropathy, which I'm a bit nervous about as I've been fortunate to never have to deal with that yet... guess we'll see how it goes. Doc said if it's terrible they can dial back the dose of Taxol, but I want this round of cancer to be the last ever round of cancer so I kinda don't want to inhibit any of the meds... no sense stressing over it. It'll be what it'll be. We will figure it out. 

Since that doesn't start until January, I have the rest of this month to recover, gain weight I mean "enjoy Christmas goodies", attempt to finish my cards before Christmas, get my far and wide ranging ducks back in a row, take the boys to the dentist for their appointment, enjoy time with loved ones, hopefully bake some and take more naps. I am very much enjoying not waiting at the bus stop while the temps are in the teens, but I'm sure there will be plenty of that in 2025. 

Don't exhaust yourselves this season chasing down the Stuff or trying to do All The Things. Make the time for the people and activities that fill your spirit back up, and know that you're loved more than you realize. Be good to yourself! You are worth it!

Drink water and wash your hands. The germs are legion!

3700

 No, that's not an amount for a bill for any of my surgeries or chemo or insurance for driving Ori onto rocks, though good guesses all. That's the number of posts on this blog! Can you even believe it? It's like I have something to say... or something. Who'd have thought? (Nana, in the afterlife, is chuckling to herself and snarking, "anybody who ever met you! Are you kidding? All those times I had to separate you from Tammy at nap time because you wouldn't stop talking?!" Yes, well, there is that.

I'm sort of just checking in. I miraculously have zero doctors' appointments this week and am on the upswing after mostly a week of chemo crumminess. To say I'm not looking forward to next week's treatment is an understatement of epic proportions. However, it IS nice to know that I will sort of be feeling myself come Christmas, AND the AC part of chemo will be over with. Hooray! Merry Christmas to ME! As they used to say in karate, "LAST ONE, BEST ONE" though I'm not sure that quite applies here as the results are cumulative and I felt like... well, to quote our youngest, "dogwater" would be pretty applicable. I'm not sure if he means dog pee or the scum in their drinking water from their backwash because I'm afraid to ask, but either way, yeah, that kinda fits. To have the inside of your mouth feel sandblasted, to have the chemical roiling of your stomach, to feel like you've been dragged through solidifying cement with the accompanying pounding of your heart when all you've done is climb up a single set of stairs... I'd say dogwater fits. 

Yes, I am taking my anti nausea meds, though I could take more of them, though they come with their own side effects and I'd rather limit all that nonsense. Yes, I'm climbing back into bed (YAY, BED!) at every opportunity. I'm even feeling less guilty about it because my brain knows healing is hard work even though my spirit wants to Go Do Stuff. My Lisa says, "go back to bed for all of us who can't!" I figure I'm taking one for the team. Teehee. I should be drinking more, so if you talk to me, ask where I am water-wise and tell me to go take some sips. *Reaches for her glass of water whilst rolling her eyes* 

No, our Christmas tree isn't up yet, but our wreaths are, so that's progress. At this rate, once we get it up it might have to stick around until my birthday. Those of you who know us are asking, "how is that different from any other year?" Hush, you. 

For those of you asking about meals for us, bless your sweet hearts. As I was telling my friend the other day, food is tricky right now, though this week should be better. Dada is still doing no carbs, the kids are pretty much all carbs, and I am absolutely all over the map like a pregnant woman. I will have a sliced baby cucumber. Then an hour later maybe cheese and crackers. Then another hour after that perhaps a little bit of meat or some peanut butter toast. Last night I was eating single Cheerios out of the box, one after another, while I watched TV. For lunch, I plan to devour an entire head of butter lettuce* with veggies and cheese and croutons (Thing Three is at school so I'll only have to fend off Thing Two since Thing One doesn't emerge for awhile yet) and maybe a can of tuna on it and it is going to be DELICIOUS and then my mouth won't feel like I've licked a salty camel straight from the Sahara. 

*In a text from Dada, that came out "butthead" lettuce so we will be henceforth calling it that.

All in all, and my doc is in agreement with this, I'm doing well. It doesn't always FEEL like that, but as I'm also not praying to the porcelain god, I'll take it. I may look like a drunken sailor on land who is using the wall with one hand to stay stable, but I'm still moving, thank you, Jesus. Today I'm actually on my second load of laundry**, have swept the kitchen floor, made phone calls which I despise (who's with me- where are my "I'd rather die than talk on the phone" peeps?), renewed Pepe's license plate, got some mail ready to go out, and some other stuff. I'm hogging 2/3 of the couch with paperwork and have displaced Thing Two completely. I have a pile of Stuff on the floor in the Old Lady Room that I need to deal with, but we are getting there.

** The second load is dog towels and blankets. Miss Honey, who will be at least 10ish years old this week, relieved herself on the hall rug before Thanksgiving and we didn't have time to deal with it other than baking soda and vacuum it before we travelled, so we lugged it outside where the weather could rain and snow on it to it's heart's delight. We brought it in a few days ago, still smelling of baking soda. The Idiot Bos decided to lick it in a bunch of places last evening while we were having dinner, then proceeded to barf on a different rug when his stomach realized it couldn't digest dog hair, dirt, and baking soda. Hence the load of towels. How he can manage to NOT throw up rat poison when he needs to but CAN vomit other stuff remains a mystery. Dumber than a box of rocks. Seriously. That's insulting to rocks. He's no smarter now than he was when we got him 7.5 years ago. Somebody save us. I am never picking out a dog again. And if Honey doesn't quit pooping on the deck, I am going to ask Santa not FOR a dog, but to kindly take both of ours!

So I'm off to make my salad. Have a wonderful hump day!

Venting in the November breeze

I. Can't. Get. Warm.

It is the first week of November and we are already experiencing wind chill that says, "feels like 19." We skipped Indian summer completely and I reluctantly sadly despairingly boxed up my sun dresses, tank tops, floaty summery skirts; I begrudgingly unpacked my sweaters, long sleeves, and pants. Not that I don't like tights and sweaters, I'd just prefer to not have to wear multiple layers every single day for the next six months. Leggings under pants is ridiculous, but here we are. Some of you woke up to snow. I don't want to talk about it.

I have my largest pot on the stove with bone broth simmering away for up to the next 12 hours. Between the dark and the cold, I can hear the pounds sneaking on from the steady stream of comfort food that I'll be consuming. Our spring break is the very first week of March (yes, I'm serious), so there is zero chance of anyone spotting me in anything revealing until... oh, around May when Ohio gets her act together and recognizes that spring started two months previous. Why not indulge? The calories will keep me warm. Warm-er. Ish. Surely?

That is, if I don't end up on the news and living in a new venue before then. One where I'd be wearing orange. Or, perhaps, stripes. 

I don't know about you people, but let me set the record straight; boys do not have less drama than girls- they merely have different drama. 

For example, our resident middle school student made it to his fourteenth birthday last week by the grace of God. The vast majority of our meals together, he needs reminded, "get your knees down under the table. You are smashing your stomach and feeling full before you're actually full. Get your food in you. Quit playing around. Eat. Eat your food. Close the book." Repeat ad nauseam. By "vast majority" I mean 95% or higher of our meals. Often with food he likes!  

And will someone please invent a water shut-off valve that can be remotely activated by a parent's phone so that there issues a hard burst signifying a "you-have-two-minutes-left-so-rinse-and-get-out-lest-you-stay-sudsy" warning? Said child was given 10 minutes in the bathroom yesterday and took 45. Granted, some of this issue is caused by the bliss of having A) hot, running water, B) more than one bathroom, C) parents who are busy doing other things than standing around timing how long one is taking in the bathroom. However, short of taking the hinges off the bathroom door (which, while I have seriously considered, I object to the almighty draft I'd have to deal with when having my own shower) how does one pry another person out of the shower when one is on the opposite side of the bathroom door?!

People, I need a beating breakthrough. I'd rather not end up on the news. Eighth grade means this child in particular should be spectacular by now at getting himself ready for school. He lays out school clothes the night before. He makes his lunch the night before. He sets out what he wants for breakfast (unless it's refrigerated, obviously) the night before. Why then, are we having the same battles every day? 

Some would say, "just let him do it all on his own. He's gotta figure it out." Then he will miss the bus, and who does that inconvenience? Me. I'd have to take him to school. Especially when Dada is out of town for work. And his younger sibling, who is not old enough to be left home to get himself on his own bus yet, so he'd have to hurry to get ready to come with me. And the dogs, who have been built into our morning routine. Let's just empty the entire toolbox into the works, shall we? The heck with the wrench. 

Out of curiosity, I checked google maps. It would be around a 45 minute walk from our home to his school, and I know at least some of it doesn't have sidewalks. That would make him that much later if he missed the bus. The whole point of getting on the bus is so I don't have to drive him, adding more gasoline burned and more emissions and so forth. If I had any desire to take him to school, that would be built into our routine already.

How do we raise someone whom other someones (college roommates, apartment mates, future spouses) won't want to maim because of their inconsideration/selfishness/obliviousness? The child has zero money because, as our children, we don't believe they should be paid to help around the house. They live here, they should help, period. So we can't fine him the price of the water bill to open his eyes to the cost of sitting under the hot water for ridiculous amounts of time. How do we waken the (I hope) innate self-awareness of, "hey, I'm being kind of a jerk hogging the hot water, I should get clean and get out"? It is clear that what we/I am doing now does not work and is unsustainable. 

I don't want to leave you with the idea that he is a problem child and the other two are angelic by comparison; they most certainly are not. We have three great kids, each with their own issues. Would I trade them in on a yo-yo, as Nana used to say? Do not tempt me, Frodo. 

Life with Boys

Life with boys is often surprising. I never know what I'm going to find even in the most mundane of places. For example, while cleaning the kitchen, I found Dada's espresso maker lid hosting a foam bullet:

I turn around to attempt to put things back in the pantry where they belong and "the way is shut":

"Look Mama, he's hugging me!" 

I'm glad you're having a moment. Please get off of the floor.

***

Even right now, I am set up to blog in the guest bedroom where I foolishly hoped I'd be working in peace. I grabbed a mug of Elixir of Magic Beans, the camera, my phone, and the laptop, strode through a single filament of spiderweb (yes, the guest room was used just last weekend but our spiders are very industrious around here and have apparently set up shop again), plunked everything down on the table...

and have had Damon with me more than without me. He's having a meltdown because the iPad is in Carrie's room and she is still sleeping. He wants it because he won this:

How I can hear my Nana chuckling. It seemed she was always winning some door prize or another. If there was one single clothespin tucked under a chair at an event, that's the chair she'd be discovered sitting upon. If there was a lucky ticket number, that'd be the one she'd drawn. It was amazing as a kid to have a Nana who won just about everything.

And now I have That Kid. 

The Gizmo dog is part of the selection of prizes for the elementary school's fundraiser. He claims it's what he would have won had he sold 150 items. He sold six. 

After I drove to the school to pick up said six items, I received a text informing me that he'd won the raffle prize. Could I come pick it up or should they just send it home with him the following day?

Having just a tiny Inkling of Eventualities, I texted back that they could please send it home tomorrow and that it would make his day and thank you.

Did Gizmo the dog make it home safe? You bet. 

His backpack and lunch box remained on the bus.

The following day, yesterday, I sent this note in his lunch:

He did manage to bring home his report card, his lunch box, the original backpack he'd left on the bus.

The second backpack stayed on the bus. 

It's a long weekend because they're hosting conferences at school today.

Lest you think he's the only one, we have yet to see the middle schooler's report card because... well, Life With Boys.

Wednesday

Me: Did you bring your report card home?

Liam: No, I didn't get one. They were passing them out but it was bus time and I had to go.

Me: You mean you didn't get yours. Yours is specific to you, you can't just take any old report card home.

Liam: Right. 

Thursday

Me: Did your report card make it home?

Liam, staring at me like a deer in the headlights: It's in my binder.

Me: Can I see it, please?

Liam: It's at school. In my binder.

Me: Liam, it is a long weekend! We won't even get to see it until Monday?!

Liam: *blink*

Lest you think they are the only ones, I hate to burst your bubble. Miss Carrie is going without her winter coat all this long weekend because it is also at school, but that is a story for another post, believe me. 

She did, however, bring home a report card of straight A's! Your kid gets a part time job AND the best report card of her high school career thus far- who knew?! Good job!

Back to Gizmo. 

We had our conference with Damon's teacher last night and she laughed that he'd asked to take Gizmo out to recess the day he received it. She wisely told him that's not the best choice as it could get broken, and she laughed again when I informed her that Gizmo had made it home safely whereas his backpack did not. 

Of course he is over the moon about this newfangled contraption (sorry, I had to) and once he discovered that it comes with an app where you can feed the dog and tell it how to move, it was all over. Never mind that it already operates on voice command. Telling it to sit, play dead, roll over, go pee pee (and no, I'm not kidding, unfortunately), and whatever the command is for playing and dancing to the music is, no, none of those were enough. 

For two days he's pestered me to add this ridiculous app.

Yesterday:

Damon: Mama! Add it onto the iPad. Please!

Me: Damon, the iPad is out of room and we can't delete anything because you see? There are no little x's. I'm sorry, buddy, there's no room on here.

Damon: *sound of ultimate suffering* Then on your phone?

Me: Not just no.

Damon: Where's the mini iPad? Can we put it on the mini?

Me: We'll have to wait until Carrie comes home because she had it at school with her and now she's at work.

Damon: *more sounds of ultimate suffering* It's not faaaaair!

This morning:

Damon: Can we add it to the mini?

Me: The mini is in Carrie's room and she's still sleeping.

Damon: *wailing* She's going to sleep until karate tonight!

Me: That's ridiculous. No she's not.

Damon: It's not even supposed to be in her room! It's not fair! 

(He's not wrong.)

Me: Why don't you go get some more reading minutes or play with Legos?

Damon: *sound of ultimate suffering*

Me: Or go back to bed...

Drat it all, Nana, this had better not be a sign of things to come!

***

On Monday, Damon's belongings all actually made it home from school. I removed his lunchbox from his backpack and was a bit dismayed to find everything was wet.

Me: Damon, did you take your water bottle to school?

Damon: *distracted* Uh, what? No. Why? What?

Me: Why is your backpack and lunchbox wet?

Damon: Uh...?

The culprit? See that small container of applesauce? The one that wasn't eaten at lunch?

Right at the edge of the spoon you can see the puncture. It exploded just enough applesauce to make a mess.

Now his lunchbox has been washed and is no worse for wear. However, one must always remember to check every pocket of boys' belongings before dumping them into the wash. Look who would have ended up squeaky clean had I not checked the pocket of the lunchbox:

I'd ask plaintively if it was the weekend yet, but one, it obviously is as they are home with me, and two, I'm not sure it'll make it any better because then they're home with me! I'm reminded of the quote from the movie Beetlejuice:

"Because then I will go insane, and I will take you with me!"

Please keep your musings to yourself as to what mischief they'll get up to next. If speaking a thing into being is real, I don't want to have to hunt anybody down!

Mystery Adventure

Dada surprised us last night by being home in time for dinner instead of the after-bedtime ETA we'd been expecting, so we packed him up and took him along on a Mystery Adventure. 

We headed to the next school district over for a night of children's theater one acts. Their show runs again tonight and tomorrow afternoon as well. I had an inkling our kids would know some of the theater kids, and sure enough, as soon as we got there Liam pulled a Nana and ended up not even sitting with us. He joined a posse of his friends, some of whom are in the show and some who have siblings with parts. I thought it was so neat to take our kids to something other than karate or other sports to see real kids they know doing something that also takes practice and teamwork and creativity. Apparently this theater would love to have some fresh blood and are flexible with commitments throughout the year. I think we'll be looking into it, especially over the summer when we're not bogged down with homework and enjoy looser (and later) bedtimes.

Then, of course, we had to pull a PaPa and "go be bad". The ice cream shop a few blocks from us was already closed (what's THAT all about, people!? Sheesh. Some people's Priorities.) so we headed across town to the one that has the Cookie Monster ice cream mentioned in a previous post. I had a serving of The Bomb, and if I read the upside down bullet points right it mentioned butterscotch, chocolate chips, toffee bits, something peanut buttery in vanilla bean ice cream. Aptly named! "It comes in pints?! I'm getting one!" (That would be Pippin in "The Fellowship of the Ring" for those of you keeping track.)

By the time we were home, Damon was close to tears with tiredness and alas, they all had folded laundry on their beds waiting to be put away. We made it through the bedtime routine minus any reading of The Hobbit (for the boys) or The Scorpio Races (for Carrie) and everyone seemed to sleep soundly. It was a great date! I love Mystery Adventures!

Da da dadaDA... 3000!

Wow, you guys, this is my 3000th post, and I don't even have anything that exciting to say! =/ Bummer!

We've been in the wake-up, get-up, go to school, do homework and dinner and get in the car for karate, come home and go to bed routine that is typical of autumn. Throw in church and friends and home group starting back up and gorgeous weather and an overgrown garden and germs, and you pretty much have our life.

Last weekend, Pap showed up on his birthday to hang out with Dada as I piled all the kids in the car and trekked to PA for one of our infamous Whirlwind Weekends. We collapsed at Grandmama and PaPa's house Friday night. Carrie came with me to a funeral Saturday morning, then we headed to a friend's daughter's third birthday party in the afternoon and then went from there straight towards to Pittsburgh to meet with my BFF and her girls for munchies. Sunday brought a trip to my Nana's hometown where Carrie and I visited her in the hospital while Aunt Lainie watched the boys at Nana's apartment. We all piled back into the car, headed home after lunch, and Damon announced he had a huge headache. Sent him to bed only to have him miss the next two days of school with a fever and sore throat. Dr. Jon declared him strep-free, so it was back to school on Wednesday for him, much to his delight.

Now Liam has gone to bed with a bad headache and he feels warm to me. =/ They say that history repeats itself...

Dada and Carrie were mowing while I did laundry and dishes. Damon played on the iPad to keep him quiet while Liam slept. Now I need to go fold said laundry and get ready for this week. Have a good one, everybodeeeee! 

OBX Trip 6

 

We're back!

 

We spent a week in the Outer Banks- did you miss us?

 

We knew we didn't want to get stuck in DC traffic on our way there like in previous years, so we left Thursday afternoon and made it the first four hours without stopping. Dada took over the driving at that point and did the next two hours to Breezewood.

 

From there, it was only two more hours to Uncle Rob and Aunt Jana's, where we crashed really late and then had some cousin time in the morning before hitting the road again.  

 

*REMIND ME TO UPLOAD PICTURES FROM MY PHONE*

 

Believe me, you'll want to see them. There are pictures of the cousins in dress up costumes having breakfast together. Priceless.

 

Anyhow, since we weren't in a huge rush, we left midmorning and putzed our way down the coast. We stopped at Assateague Island to see the wild horses: 

 

 

That's right, you're seeing as many in the above photo as we saw. Zip. Zero. They must be really good at hiding. We did hear some but the dense foliage between the path and the giggling, shy horsies was too thick for us to find them. They were a few days away from the annual pony swim and roundup, so maybe that's why they were being extra cautious.

 

We made it to the beach house Friday evening and were greeted by my aunt and uncle's mixed breed puppy, Hacker, who is all brindled wiggles and kisses and powerful tail. We were sorely tempted to bring him home with us. Annie, their German Shepherd, needs more time to warm up to people but remembered us and allowed us to love on her even when she'd broken a tooth and wasn't feeling her best. We missed Dutch, who'd passed away last fall, but we had lots of puppy love while we were there.

 

We goofed off a lot at the ocean this year as the temps were just about perfect and the kids were less afraid of the waves. There are plenty of pictures to come, but here are some taken at the pool: 

 

Dada and I even got our annual dinner date at the Black Pelican sans kids. He had an amazing halibut dinner with sour cherry butter sauce and a tasty veggie medley involving Swiss chard, red onions, and some others. I had Chef's Pasta, which is penne in roasted red peppery cream cheese sauce with humungous scallops and shrimp. I delighted in my leftovers later on. And we got a walk on the beach in the almost full moonlight.

 

Aunt Lainie has been decking out her deck in teal and a soft green, so naturally we had to get a picture mid-act.

 

 

We clean up pretty well. And Dada's in snazzy white pants. And no, you may not have the cute, sleeping urchin. He's ours.

 

Miss Maudie had her 86th birthday while we were there, so of course we had to celebrate. She brought glow sticks for the kids, which ranked her even higher in their esteem, if that's possible. I called in to Damon to tell him she was there, and he hollered, "Miss Maudie's here? I LOVE Maudie!" He couldn't get out the door fast enough.

 

Here she is on the phone with Nana, who helped us sing "Happy Birthday" to her. And somehow Maudie got one trick candle, to everyone's amusement and the kids' wonderment:

 

Lainie's friend Linda came for the birthday party, too, and cheerfully took a million pictures of us. Here's one with everyone's eyes open and smiling!

 

Birthdays at the beach are exhausting.

 

I have probably 100 ocean pictures but I hear beds being jumped on so I must go parent awhile.

 

*REMIND ME TO BLOG ABOUT THE TRIP BACK*

 

Blast from the past

Totally random, but thought some of you would get a big kick out of them. Above is my Nana with me, my aunt Tammy, and my great grandma Frances. I look about four, maybe? So... 1980, perhaps? Anyone?

Then there's me and my Mommee. I loved that sweater!
 

 

And this one makes me laugh because I look just like Damon. It says Christmas Eve 1977, and that's my aunt Barbie behind me. If you click on it and make it bigger, you can see the nice shiner around my eye. I bet my parents were just thrilled about that for Christmas pictures of their firstborn, hahaha!