I love those. The kind of week that brings beautiful weather (that it's been in August is a double-bonus), good food (menu plan for the win!), and fun interactions with the kids (on top of, or in lieu of, the regular routine of "do you have this" and "did you do that" and "seriously, please just get up"...)
We're at about 85% on schooling. My goal for August was 50%, so W00t! I'm not sure what it will look like once we add Chemistry to the schedule and Latin's in full-swing, but we're about to find out. Every year, it's like we're new here. Some things don't change, and to some extent you do hit your stride and feel like you can say you're a veteran homeschooler. Some things, though, seem to morph and change each year and you're starting over. I may have seen two others through 7th grade, but this is JakeRabbit's first year as a 7th grader... SURPRISE!
Em and Jase have been prepared to hate everything. So far, they've loved all of it. We chose Memoria Press' Insects study for science -- they do nature study regularly, but I thought a few years of focused instruction on specifics within the animal and plant kingdoms would be beneficial. This way, we aren't always having to look up what we find - sometimes it's a nice treat to be out and about and be able to say, "Oh, look! I've found a such-and-such!" or "Ohhh, the whatsits are out!" Huge win. There's a certain boost a child gets from checking out a library book and discovering he already knows the terminology in it. Or from seeing an unidentified animal in a book and realizing he knows what it is (thank you, Google, for providing verification on that one - totally made his day!)
And last night was Shakespeare in the Park, up in Nashville. (It's actually running until mid-September -- if you can make it, you are in for a treat! Check it out at Nashville Shakes.) They're doing Henry V. We had a wonderful group of young men and fun parents. The whole evening was, as is normal for the Nashville Shakespeare Festival, top notch and magical.
Soon, we'll be back to ballroom dance, Jr. Master Gardener, classes and outings and fun. Plus, Fall is coming!!
Be encouraged!
~Dy
Friday, August 28
Saturday, August 22
Stretching
I stretched this morning -- I mean full-body, head to toes, the kind of stretch that leaves every muscle relaxed and happy -- for the first time in three days. It was the most delicious thing. (I can't stretch on shot day or the day after, because of the tenderness in my bones. And for whatever reason, I don't think to get one big cat-stretch in the day before, to tide me over. That should go on my phone reminders.)
And that, pretty much, is all we've done this past week. The rest of the week looks like a poorly designed to-do list of a very boring person:
Monday - Chemo, tidy the house, read
Tuesday - Chemo, tidy the house while wondering aloud if we hadn't already done this, read
Wednesday - Shot, breakfast with a friend (total highlight, there!), return home to wonder rather loudly and pointedly if we hadn't JUST DONE THIS while we tidied. Again.
Thursday - slept, and moved very slowly when not sleeping
Friday - cleaned up from all the tidying that didn't happen Thursday
Perhaps a very boring person who lives with vandals.
Oh, and I think I fell asleep during a Chemistry video at some point.
So, yeah, the highlight of my day today was a big old stretch in which I didn't fall asleep mid-way or cringe in discomfort. It was a good day!
James is caught up on his school work. John is enjoying some gaming with friends. The littles are binge-watching YouTube instead of having video game time (I have no idea why, but that's what they picked). Zorak's going to pick up some Captain D's for dinner, and that means I get to punt tonight's plan to tomorrow afternoon! Win, win, win. What a fantastic day.
Be encouraged,
~Dy
And that, pretty much, is all we've done this past week. The rest of the week looks like a poorly designed to-do list of a very boring person:
Monday - Chemo, tidy the house, read
Tuesday - Chemo, tidy the house while wondering aloud if we hadn't already done this, read
Wednesday - Shot, breakfast with a friend (total highlight, there!), return home to wonder rather loudly and pointedly if we hadn't JUST DONE THIS while we tidied. Again.
Thursday - slept, and moved very slowly when not sleeping
Friday - cleaned up from all the tidying that didn't happen Thursday
Perhaps a very boring person who lives with vandals.
Oh, and I think I fell asleep during a Chemistry video at some point.
So, yeah, the highlight of my day today was a big old stretch in which I didn't fall asleep mid-way or cringe in discomfort. It was a good day!
James is caught up on his school work. John is enjoying some gaming with friends. The littles are binge-watching YouTube instead of having video game time (I have no idea why, but that's what they picked). Zorak's going to pick up some Captain D's for dinner, and that means I get to punt tonight's plan to tomorrow afternoon! Win, win, win. What a fantastic day.
Be encouraged,
~Dy
Monday, August 17
Chemo, Round 3
This week is my third round of chemo. Long day today, short day tomorrow (unless there are fluids, then it's another long 'un), and then a shot - once a month. And this is our halfway point.
It's crazy, because going into it, that's the scary part: the chemo. (Dear God, they're going to pump cytotoxic chemicals directly into my heart? :thud: ) In practice, the actual chemo treatment is pretty pleasant and mundane, and with the nausea and pain medications available, management of those symptoms is getting better and better. Most people at least get to the car before they get sick-sick. So, it's not perfected. But we are lucky and I haven't been sick. So, it's like a lousy date. Z comes with me, we bring our own food (because all the snacks on the crack cart are pretty much genetically engineered to feed your cancer and shut down your metabolism - seems like a poorly thought out plan for offerings), pull the curtains and watch movies.
The scary part is scheduling a mid-point scan to see if anything new has cropped up, or if the cancer is even responding to the therapy. I feel like I'm being required to play Russian roulette. Even if this chamber is empty, I know there's a bullet in one of them. It's only a question of when it'll come up. I will live with this gun to my head for the rest of my life, pulling the trigger in increasingly longer intervals. Trying to come to terms with that reality is probably the most challenging part of all of this. From what I understand, it's something other cancer survivors understand, so it's nice to know this isn't some psychosis seeping into my mind, stealing my joy. I'm joyful, and I'm thankful. But I did not want to play this game. It's a stupid game. Who knew the scary part would be inside my head, and that I would have to learn to accept it and find the beauty around it? If I can find the harmony and the beauty in this, I will have snatched the damned pebble and Z will have to quit referring to me as Grasshopper.
But one of the beauties found in unexpected places is in the treatment room. Everyone is kind. Everyone is friendly. Everyone is cheerful. I'm telling you, if you ever want to see the most determinedly positive group of people, check out a chemotherapy treatment room. Even the people who clearly must feel like hammered dog crap can pull it together enough to be polite and kind, to smile at a stranger, to joke with the nurses. There's a lot to be learned about the resilience of the spirit in that room. I am learning. This is how you roll with the punches, people. Dang. I am in awe.
I could sleep. They have warm blankets, and the therapy chairs recline. But I choose not to. Not because I'm anti-nap, but because mentally, I feel more engaged and participatory if I'm awake. (I'm a big fan of not being awake if you don't need to be - case in point, sedation dentistry - there's nothing I can do there, and any "help" I try to offer is going to get in the way and likely to get me hurt in the process. Knock me out, do your dental magic, and wake me when it's time for more Percocet. Beautiful system.) But during chemo, and especially with the Rituximab, they want to know how you're holding up, how you're feeling, what your status is. Every 30 minutes. I don't know about everyone else, but my groggy, just awoken from a nap state is not the most articulate state. I would marble-mouth some kind of answer about being fine before even doing a full mental system check (Am I fine? I don't know. I was asleep!) Then they'd hear me and Z laughing over some inside joke and the next thing I'd know, they'd be inquiring into my drinking habits. Just, net delta, I feel better about staying awake during chemo. (For now. Come November, I may be begging for a gurney in the lobby so I can get a head start on the napping. And I guess that's the key - you deal with it in the way that works best, and if you find your approach isn't serving you well or helping you out, then change your approach. This is your body, and your healing. Go with what you can. There's no judgment to be passed or received.)
And on that non-judgy note, some of you may have flicked your eyes to my comment about the crack cart and thought, "Uh-huh. No judging, huh?" Yes, that's right. Knowing what's crap to eat when you are in a diseased state, and calling it like it is is OK. Understanding that sometimes patients are so nauseous that they simply cannot choke down proteins or fats, or even stand to smell them, and that when you're in that spot, you get what calories you can keep down to avoid a state of starvation, is imperative. The two aren't mutually exclusive. You can know better and still have to make do. You can disagree with someone's choices and still support and love on them. And when it comes to nutrition, particularly in the US, it takes a darned determined individual to sort through the kickbacks and faulty science and fads to figure out what's what and what's going to kill you. I am not even certain I've got it figured out, and this is my Thing. It's what I do - nutrition therapy is my go-to. And I can still laughingly refer to the carb-riddled snack cart as the crack cart. Because peanut butter cups are my crack. I know whereof I speak, y'all. And for now, I can resist the crack and eat the healing foods. There may be pictures of me absconding with peanut butter cups in the 10# sack from Sam's by November. I get that.
So today, we had a date. And I have made him promise me that after this is done, and we've paid off all the bills, we will start going on legitimate dates. Dates that don't require pre-emptive Ibuprofen and Benadryl 30 minutes before arriving for our reservation. Dates that might permit me to wear a dress or dancing boots -- for a reason. And I have promised to do my best to be there when it comes. That's the deal.
Be encouraged,
~Dy
It's crazy, because going into it, that's the scary part: the chemo. (Dear God, they're going to pump cytotoxic chemicals directly into my heart? :thud: ) In practice, the actual chemo treatment is pretty pleasant and mundane, and with the nausea and pain medications available, management of those symptoms is getting better and better. Most people at least get to the car before they get sick-sick. So, it's not perfected. But we are lucky and I haven't been sick. So, it's like a lousy date. Z comes with me, we bring our own food (because all the snacks on the crack cart are pretty much genetically engineered to feed your cancer and shut down your metabolism - seems like a poorly thought out plan for offerings), pull the curtains and watch movies.
The scary part is scheduling a mid-point scan to see if anything new has cropped up, or if the cancer is even responding to the therapy. I feel like I'm being required to play Russian roulette. Even if this chamber is empty, I know there's a bullet in one of them. It's only a question of when it'll come up. I will live with this gun to my head for the rest of my life, pulling the trigger in increasingly longer intervals. Trying to come to terms with that reality is probably the most challenging part of all of this. From what I understand, it's something other cancer survivors understand, so it's nice to know this isn't some psychosis seeping into my mind, stealing my joy. I'm joyful, and I'm thankful. But I did not want to play this game. It's a stupid game. Who knew the scary part would be inside my head, and that I would have to learn to accept it and find the beauty around it? If I can find the harmony and the beauty in this, I will have snatched the damned pebble and Z will have to quit referring to me as Grasshopper.
But one of the beauties found in unexpected places is in the treatment room. Everyone is kind. Everyone is friendly. Everyone is cheerful. I'm telling you, if you ever want to see the most determinedly positive group of people, check out a chemotherapy treatment room. Even the people who clearly must feel like hammered dog crap can pull it together enough to be polite and kind, to smile at a stranger, to joke with the nurses. There's a lot to be learned about the resilience of the spirit in that room. I am learning. This is how you roll with the punches, people. Dang. I am in awe.
I could sleep. They have warm blankets, and the therapy chairs recline. But I choose not to. Not because I'm anti-nap, but because mentally, I feel more engaged and participatory if I'm awake. (I'm a big fan of not being awake if you don't need to be - case in point, sedation dentistry - there's nothing I can do there, and any "help" I try to offer is going to get in the way and likely to get me hurt in the process. Knock me out, do your dental magic, and wake me when it's time for more Percocet. Beautiful system.) But during chemo, and especially with the Rituximab, they want to know how you're holding up, how you're feeling, what your status is. Every 30 minutes. I don't know about everyone else, but my groggy, just awoken from a nap state is not the most articulate state. I would marble-mouth some kind of answer about being fine before even doing a full mental system check (Am I fine? I don't know. I was asleep!) Then they'd hear me and Z laughing over some inside joke and the next thing I'd know, they'd be inquiring into my drinking habits. Just, net delta, I feel better about staying awake during chemo. (For now. Come November, I may be begging for a gurney in the lobby so I can get a head start on the napping. And I guess that's the key - you deal with it in the way that works best, and if you find your approach isn't serving you well or helping you out, then change your approach. This is your body, and your healing. Go with what you can. There's no judgment to be passed or received.)
And on that non-judgy note, some of you may have flicked your eyes to my comment about the crack cart and thought, "Uh-huh. No judging, huh?" Yes, that's right. Knowing what's crap to eat when you are in a diseased state, and calling it like it is is OK. Understanding that sometimes patients are so nauseous that they simply cannot choke down proteins or fats, or even stand to smell them, and that when you're in that spot, you get what calories you can keep down to avoid a state of starvation, is imperative. The two aren't mutually exclusive. You can know better and still have to make do. You can disagree with someone's choices and still support and love on them. And when it comes to nutrition, particularly in the US, it takes a darned determined individual to sort through the kickbacks and faulty science and fads to figure out what's what and what's going to kill you. I am not even certain I've got it figured out, and this is my Thing. It's what I do - nutrition therapy is my go-to. And I can still laughingly refer to the carb-riddled snack cart as the crack cart. Because peanut butter cups are my crack. I know whereof I speak, y'all. And for now, I can resist the crack and eat the healing foods. There may be pictures of me absconding with peanut butter cups in the 10# sack from Sam's by November. I get that.
So today, we had a date. And I have made him promise me that after this is done, and we've paid off all the bills, we will start going on legitimate dates. Dates that don't require pre-emptive Ibuprofen and Benadryl 30 minutes before arriving for our reservation. Dates that might permit me to wear a dress or dancing boots -- for a reason. And I have promised to do my best to be there when it comes. That's the deal.
Be encouraged,
~Dy
Friday, August 14
The Last Hurrah of Summer
Every night, Em asks me a series of questions. It's her Bedtime Catechism. What day is tomorrow? What are we doing tomorrow? Do I have to get up early? What's the temperature supposed to be? Can I read in bed? (And by "read", she means "craft". We both know this.)
It makes her a little bit batty that starting in June, my response to the temperature question is, "hot". It's going to be hot from now until October. "But WHY can't you look it up?" Because it's August in the South, baby girl. It just depresses me to see the actual numbers. Just plan on Swelteringly, Wiltingly Hot, and if it happens to be only moderately hot, or perhaps not sweltering, well, that's like a special surprise. She remains unconvinced, but every afternoon she says, "Yeah, you were right. It's hot." I'm excited for the first forecast day in the 70's - not just because the 70's are pretty awesome after a hot summer, but to see her face when I have a legit answer.
The public schools are back in session this week. As of yesterday, all of our county schools were up and running. But the local water park stays open until today before switching to the weekends-only schedule to wrap up the season, so we went yesterday to enjoy having the place to ourselves - along with another hundred or so homeschoolers, which is a bit of a tradition. It's such a tight-knit community that we ran into someone we know at every spot we landed, and the kids met new friends, too. I love the non-traditional back to school photos (bad lighting, random pose, and all):
We're on the far side of this project for the older two. I can't quite grasp how that can be, and yet, there they are - taller than I am, learning to drive, branching out in amazing, fascinating, and sometimes terrifying ways... It reminds me to enjoy the bedtime litany and listening to books I don't care for, because it won't take much time at all before Em and Jase are taller than I am, learning to drive, and branching out...
Today, it's going to be moderately hot. What a pleasant surprise. Perhaps we should go enjoy one last hurrah...
Be encouraged,
~Dy
It makes her a little bit batty that starting in June, my response to the temperature question is, "hot". It's going to be hot from now until October. "But WHY can't you look it up?" Because it's August in the South, baby girl. It just depresses me to see the actual numbers. Just plan on Swelteringly, Wiltingly Hot, and if it happens to be only moderately hot, or perhaps not sweltering, well, that's like a special surprise. She remains unconvinced, but every afternoon she says, "Yeah, you were right. It's hot." I'm excited for the first forecast day in the 70's - not just because the 70's are pretty awesome after a hot summer, but to see her face when I have a legit answer.
The public schools are back in session this week. As of yesterday, all of our county schools were up and running. But the local water park stays open until today before switching to the weekends-only schedule to wrap up the season, so we went yesterday to enjoy having the place to ourselves - along with another hundred or so homeschoolers, which is a bit of a tradition. It's such a tight-knit community that we ran into someone we know at every spot we landed, and the kids met new friends, too. I love the non-traditional back to school photos (bad lighting, random pose, and all):
We're on the far side of this project for the older two. I can't quite grasp how that can be, and yet, there they are - taller than I am, learning to drive, branching out in amazing, fascinating, and sometimes terrifying ways... It reminds me to enjoy the bedtime litany and listening to books I don't care for, because it won't take much time at all before Em and Jase are taller than I am, learning to drive, and branching out...
Today, it's going to be moderately hot. What a pleasant surprise. Perhaps we should go enjoy one last hurrah...
Be encouraged,
~Dy
Wednesday, August 12
It's not all Chemo and Hydration - Back to School!
We've been somewhat back to school for a week, now, mainly finishing up the tail end of Churchill's The New World, and savoring a few surprise read alouds, but also working on writing a bit. Not only did the last few weeks of our school year get de-railed by medical testing - and we need to do a little catching up - but half days allow us to make use of a trip to the water park or an afternoon on the river with friends, too, while the weather allows. I rather wish we could just do half days every day, year-round, but we're just not focused enough to make that a functional plan. (Half days would become quarter days, which would soon dwindle down to nothing but the occasional documentary... I know how we roll. It would be ugly by February.) But this is a nice start.
The high schoolers are covering American History and Literature this year. I'm stoked. They're pretty much along for the ride. (Not exactly thrilled or squealing with delight, but willing to see what's in store. I'm good with that.) They're also doing Chemistry. They've gone their separate ways in all the other subjects, so it's nice to come together for discussion and hands on work occasionally throughout the day.
Jakerabbit is doing AO Year 7. He's been waiting anxiously for this ever since the older boys did it and he would stop what he was doing to listen to snippets of reading aloud... until I'd realize that he wasn't working on his work and would chase him back to what he was working on. Some of it is just as exciting as he'd anticipated it would be. (Ivanhoe! Kim! Birth of Britain!) Some of it feels like a bit of a letdown. "But I already heard this." (Once and Future King... I hate that that one feels ruined for him. Of course, I try to put a positive spin on it by saying, "Yeah, I know, but now you can read it closely. Lucky you! Not many children get a second read of the meatier works." He's not buying that as an enthusiasm-building motivator. But what can I do? Our house is too small for everyone to have a soundproof booth to prevent educational spoilers.)
Em avoids reading anything, or having anything read to her, at all costs. Over the Summer, she has kept up a lovely nature journal, has taught herself to sew, to crochet, and to do origami, all in an effort to not have to delve into the world of the written word. She can read (which keeps me from despairing), she just doesn't like to. I imagine I'll spend a good portion of this year tracking her down.
Jase, meanwhile, is having to track me down these days. He'll read anything and everything, regardless of whether he's read it before, or whether it's worth reading. And he'll read it aloud for good measure. I love it. I do. I'm just looking forward to the day his taste improves a bit on the literature front.
We're significantly busier than I'd thought we'd be at this point, and it's all good stuff. There's nothing they're doing that's a waste of time, or not a good use of their time (and I'm including social activity in there, because they have amazing friends and good interactions). I'm perpetually a little bit surprised, though, that we have such busy days and weeks. In my head (and based on my own experience, which was not the same as theirs has been - intentionally so), by the time they were in high school, they'd be gone all the time, off with their friends, hardly ever around for dinner. Instead, either we're all off with a passel of friends in one large, unwieldy herd, or the friends are all piled on our couch. Not being involved in the local organized sports has saved dinner for us - hallelujah! That's definitely not a regret, for us.
And so begins another year. It doesn't look like I thought it would, but once again, it's still good.
Be encouraged,
~Dy
The high schoolers are covering American History and Literature this year. I'm stoked. They're pretty much along for the ride. (Not exactly thrilled or squealing with delight, but willing to see what's in store. I'm good with that.) They're also doing Chemistry. They've gone their separate ways in all the other subjects, so it's nice to come together for discussion and hands on work occasionally throughout the day.
Jakerabbit is doing AO Year 7. He's been waiting anxiously for this ever since the older boys did it and he would stop what he was doing to listen to snippets of reading aloud... until I'd realize that he wasn't working on his work and would chase him back to what he was working on. Some of it is just as exciting as he'd anticipated it would be. (Ivanhoe! Kim! Birth of Britain!) Some of it feels like a bit of a letdown. "But I already heard this." (Once and Future King... I hate that that one feels ruined for him. Of course, I try to put a positive spin on it by saying, "Yeah, I know, but now you can read it closely. Lucky you! Not many children get a second read of the meatier works." He's not buying that as an enthusiasm-building motivator. But what can I do? Our house is too small for everyone to have a soundproof booth to prevent educational spoilers.)
Em avoids reading anything, or having anything read to her, at all costs. Over the Summer, she has kept up a lovely nature journal, has taught herself to sew, to crochet, and to do origami, all in an effort to not have to delve into the world of the written word. She can read (which keeps me from despairing), she just doesn't like to. I imagine I'll spend a good portion of this year tracking her down.
Jase, meanwhile, is having to track me down these days. He'll read anything and everything, regardless of whether he's read it before, or whether it's worth reading. And he'll read it aloud for good measure. I love it. I do. I'm just looking forward to the day his taste improves a bit on the literature front.
We're significantly busier than I'd thought we'd be at this point, and it's all good stuff. There's nothing they're doing that's a waste of time, or not a good use of their time (and I'm including social activity in there, because they have amazing friends and good interactions). I'm perpetually a little bit surprised, though, that we have such busy days and weeks. In my head (and based on my own experience, which was not the same as theirs has been - intentionally so), by the time they were in high school, they'd be gone all the time, off with their friends, hardly ever around for dinner. Instead, either we're all off with a passel of friends in one large, unwieldy herd, or the friends are all piled on our couch. Not being involved in the local organized sports has saved dinner for us - hallelujah! That's definitely not a regret, for us.
And so begins another year. It doesn't look like I thought it would, but once again, it's still good.
Be encouraged,
~Dy
Nailing It Down - the testing phase
When your doctor suspects cancer is at play, wrecking havoc in your body, there's a lot of uncertainty. One thing you can know for certain, though, is that you're in for a lot of tests. And enough blood draws to make you fret for your iron levels. You have to brace yourself, mentally, and decide that this isn't something being done TO you, but something you are actively engaged in to help YOU and your medical team get to the bottom of things. Bone up on what the tests are, what they're for, and what to expect. Ask questions.
(Get yourself a little notebook immediately and start taking notes. Write down questions that hit you in the middle of the night. Write down details you come across in your own research that you'd like to bring up with your doctor. Write down what your doctor tells you. You may understand everything you read and all that's said in a meeting, but when you have two or three meetings in a day, plus errands, meals, research, and helping the kids with their school work, the information bleeds together and you'll find yourself at dinner assigning surgical plans to the radiologist and wondering why you forgot to ask about the port placement while you were at the phlebotomist. Not helpful. Even the sharpest minds need notes. This is not a sign of weakness. It's a signal of sanity. Spool up now.)
Also, get a couple of books you can read while you wait in lobbies and visiting rooms. Take a water bottle and drink, drink, drink. (Unless a test requires you not to, obviously.)
My regular doc (sports med guy - absolutely awesome, and generally unflappable) jumped through flaming hoops to not use the word cancer. I'm sure he was concerned I'd whip out a bucket of chicken, start crying and eating, and he'd never get me out of that room. (I wouldn't have, but he may have previous experiences that made him leery.) So he sent me to a surgeon to find out for sure before breaking out the ugly words.
The surgeon wanted images. Ultrasound of the cervical (neck) lymph nodes, and hey, while you're there, let's do the axillary nodes, too. And a mammogram. And a full blood work up. You're not pregnant, are you? OK, good.
Then biopsies. My surgeon opted not to do a punch biopsy because he said the results that come back from the lab are invariably, "Yes, it's lymphatic tissue. We can't tell anything more and need a larger sample." So we went straight for an excisional biopsy (where they remove a piece of tissue - in my case, a cluster of lymph nodes) so they can slice and stain and poke and prod to their heart's content without having to knock me out or poke me more than absolutely necessary. If they're doing it on the cervical nodes, expect to be put under for that.
And then, the scans start. PET scan. CT scan. MRI. These scans can show a visual representation of where the cancer is in your body. It gives you a better idea of how widespread it is, and what you're up against. Aside from the Redi-Cat liquid prep you'll need to drink (it tastes vaguely like disdain, and metallic faux chocolate), these are minimally invasive and mostly boring. The IV MRI contrast will make you feel like you may have just urinated on the table - you didn't (in case they don't warn you about that - the tech I had said that even though he warns people, most of them check reflexively anyway.) If you're claustrophobic, ask about OpenMRI.
If you have an aversion to needles, consider taking up meditation. I'm sorry I don't have better advice on that front. (My inner child sits there with me, remembering the days when it took the doctor, two nurses, the receptionist, and my own mother to hold me down just to give me a shot. She thinks I've become a complacent wimp. But the nurses I've had during this procedure, had they known of my violent youthful tendencies, would have been quite proud of me. I bought myself a milkshake for being so brave. There are perks, even if you have to make them yourself.)
If you're very lucky (OK, not really, but if you need it and you can have it, then that is sort of lucky), you'll also have a bone marrow biopsy and a spinal tap, to check for involvement in your bone marrow and Central Nervous System. I'm fairly stout-hearted, for the most part, but reading about the bone marrow biopsy made me a bit queasy. When my oncologist offered to put me out for that one, I jumped on it and considered getting a kitten to name in her honor (we're well past child-bearing, or I'd have offered to name the next one after her). Some people go through it without general anesthesia and they are fine. To be honest, the after effects were significantly less traumatic than I'd expected, and it probably would have been fine to do it awake, but I'd hit my wall at this point and needed to *not* have to face something with a stiff upper lip for a moment. So, that was nice. The spinal tap is done while you're awake. I had a magnificent doctor do that. We had a good chat. He let me watch him work. He's most definitely in my top ten favorite doctors, and the spinal tap is probably in the top five Lease Offensive Procedures I've experienced. Your experience may vary, but if you can go into these tests with an attitude of cooperation and a sense that you are on a mission, this helps. These tests, if they're ordered, are helpful tools to give you a clearer view of the path ahead.
There may be other tests, but these are all I had done.
The blood draws are frequent and copious. God bless the inventor of the Vacutainer blood collection system. One stick, all the vials you need can be filled, and you're done. Granted, by the time you're done with this whole process, that's still a lot of sticks, but it's significantly fewer than it could have been. There will forever be a place in your heart for those who can do a painless blood draw.
All of this happens very quickly. It can feel overwhelming. It's OK to take a step back from all your researching and spooling up from time to time. The information will be there after a nap, or a coffee break with a friend. Just be sure to come back.
Be encouraged,
~Dy
Tuesday, August 11
At Least Now I Know Why!
The last time I blogged, all I could say was that I was overwhelmed. And I was. I'd adjusted everything I could adjust (eating really well, staying hydrated, working out four days a week, reading great books), and from November to January, I felt like I was maybe keeping up. Then... I just wasn't. I wasn't sick. I wasn't depressed. I was just overwhelmed and tired. My runs dropped from 3 miles and working on best time (which, in itself, is amazing, because even at my most active in my youth, I couldn't run a mile) to sucking it up go get 2 miles under my belt. I went from making mad progress on my weights to topping out at some embarrassingly low upper body numbers. What was wrong?
"Eh," I thought, "I've got five kids and too much to do. I'm still only marginally qualified for what I *am* doing, and let's be honest, I don't get enough sleep. That's probably it."
So we built a wall in our living room. I've got to tell you, that was kind of awesome. And we have a pocket door in the hallway, now, so we can stay up and watch movies without the children languishing in bed to the soundtrack of all the Fun they aren't having because we sent them to bed so we can party. (That's not really how it plays out, but that's how it feels when you're seven and you just KNOW Mom and Dad are watching the really good shows and eating the good ice cream without you.) Loving that pocket door. And the good ice cream. And although I still wasn't feeling 100%, I sucked it up enough to enjoy a really great visit with Z's Aunts, and get most of the new spaces painted before one afternoon when my lymph nodes swelled up like grapefruit and I just had to stop moving.
That's when we figured it out.
Why the long lead in? Because saying "cancer" sucks all the oxygen out of the room. And that's what it was. Is. Turned out to be. Whatever. Time is a bit fluid. Cancer.
Fortunately, I have a very lethargic cancer. It's slow-moving and not very aggressive. We call it Slacker Cancer (the doctors call it Follicular Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma). That was the good news. The bad news was that it's absolutely everywhere. It's in all the lymph node clusters, in my bone marrow, and there are bulky bits in my chest, lungs, and abdomen. There are masses pressing on my arteries and colon.
More good news: it's not in my brain. (By the time we got that bit, it was the first good news I'd had in months, so I'm particularly attached to that one.)
How did it get everywhere? Because I put things off, discount when I don't feel well, compartmentalize anything that falls outside the parameters I can function in. I'd tweak my diet, double down on hydration, do better about getting rest (at least for a bit - I'm terrible about going to bed at a decent time). And I'd feel better. It was only in the last year or so that I haven't been able to squeeze the processes to get maximum output anymore. So, don't do that. I mean, obviously, if you can tweak your behaviors to put you in a healthier, stronger position, PLEASE DO - we credit at least some of how well therapy is going with the kick ass condition of the rest of my body going into this - BUT don't discount that something may have gone awry within your body. If you're not feeling well, talk to someone. Get checked. Have an accountability team. Make sure your doctor is a part of your team. Ask questions and educate yourself. Seriously, be your own advocate and go get yourself the kind of care you work so hard to provide for the people you love.
I'm halfway through a six-month chemotherapy plan. (Third round coming up, anyway.) It's going very well - at least from a side effect standpoint. I haven't had more scans done, so for all I know, I'm taking bags of saline every week and we're not even touching the cancer. (Not really. I trust that we're knocking it out. But we won't know until we re-check and see what's what at the end of that.) There may be radiation, or we could be done. We don't know. My doc was thinking we'd wait and watch it for a year or two, based on how healthy I am in all other respects, and was downright shocked when we got the scans done and saw how widespread it is. We've got to be flexible and ready for whatever comes. Of course, we're all pulling for that to be the end of it.
Interestingly, it turns out there is no "cure". You're never done with this stuff. It will come back, and the focal point of all treatment is "when" - how long can we beat it back. So, yeah, that'll be fun. Also? A good oncologist is worth several healthy kidneys on the black market. Find one who will be your partner and your MVP on your cancer-kicking team. Seriously. I pray you never need to take that advice, but if you do, you'll thank me.
I hesitated to blog about this. It's awkward enough having to tell people in real life. To be honest, it feels awkward seeing how very much the people in our lives love us (it's a GOOD problem to have - I'm not complaining, but I am significantly uncomfortable being on the receiving end of help - and thankful to be in a position that I know that, now). I didn't want it to take over this blog that's supposed to be about our adventures (the ones we wanted to have!) But when I first received my diagnosis, I looked for blogs about this. The first three I found ended with a final post about funeral services for the author. Gah! No! What? (*escape-escape-escape!*) This is not my plan! (*click-search-click*) Who else has blogged about this? (*clickety, click, click*) WHY HAVEN'T MORE PEOPLE BLOGGED ABOUT THIS? I did find a couple of blogs that were very helpful. There's that isolated period where you have your diagnosis but you're not ready to talk about it (don't even know quite what to say, or what there is to learn about it), and yet, you want to connect with someone - anyone - who has been there. Something to help take away the Unknown Factor from some of it. So I will blog and pay it forward. The next few posts will be repeat information for anyone who also knows me on Facebook and is in the group we set up, but hopefully they'll be encouraging for anyone who finds themselves waiting for a call on a biopsy at some point...
Be encouraged,
~Dy
"Eh," I thought, "I've got five kids and too much to do. I'm still only marginally qualified for what I *am* doing, and let's be honest, I don't get enough sleep. That's probably it."
So we built a wall in our living room. I've got to tell you, that was kind of awesome. And we have a pocket door in the hallway, now, so we can stay up and watch movies without the children languishing in bed to the soundtrack of all the Fun they aren't having because we sent them to bed so we can party. (That's not really how it plays out, but that's how it feels when you're seven and you just KNOW Mom and Dad are watching the really good shows and eating the good ice cream without you.) Loving that pocket door. And the good ice cream. And although I still wasn't feeling 100%, I sucked it up enough to enjoy a really great visit with Z's Aunts, and get most of the new spaces painted before one afternoon when my lymph nodes swelled up like grapefruit and I just had to stop moving.
That's when we figured it out.
Why the long lead in? Because saying "cancer" sucks all the oxygen out of the room. And that's what it was. Is. Turned out to be. Whatever. Time is a bit fluid. Cancer.
Fortunately, I have a very lethargic cancer. It's slow-moving and not very aggressive. We call it Slacker Cancer (the doctors call it Follicular Non-Hodgkin Lymphoma). That was the good news. The bad news was that it's absolutely everywhere. It's in all the lymph node clusters, in my bone marrow, and there are bulky bits in my chest, lungs, and abdomen. There are masses pressing on my arteries and colon.
More good news: it's not in my brain. (By the time we got that bit, it was the first good news I'd had in months, so I'm particularly attached to that one.)
How did it get everywhere? Because I put things off, discount when I don't feel well, compartmentalize anything that falls outside the parameters I can function in. I'd tweak my diet, double down on hydration, do better about getting rest (at least for a bit - I'm terrible about going to bed at a decent time). And I'd feel better. It was only in the last year or so that I haven't been able to squeeze the processes to get maximum output anymore. So, don't do that. I mean, obviously, if you can tweak your behaviors to put you in a healthier, stronger position, PLEASE DO - we credit at least some of how well therapy is going with the kick ass condition of the rest of my body going into this - BUT don't discount that something may have gone awry within your body. If you're not feeling well, talk to someone. Get checked. Have an accountability team. Make sure your doctor is a part of your team. Ask questions and educate yourself. Seriously, be your own advocate and go get yourself the kind of care you work so hard to provide for the people you love.
I'm halfway through a six-month chemotherapy plan. (Third round coming up, anyway.) It's going very well - at least from a side effect standpoint. I haven't had more scans done, so for all I know, I'm taking bags of saline every week and we're not even touching the cancer. (Not really. I trust that we're knocking it out. But we won't know until we re-check and see what's what at the end of that.) There may be radiation, or we could be done. We don't know. My doc was thinking we'd wait and watch it for a year or two, based on how healthy I am in all other respects, and was downright shocked when we got the scans done and saw how widespread it is. We've got to be flexible and ready for whatever comes. Of course, we're all pulling for that to be the end of it.
Interestingly, it turns out there is no "cure". You're never done with this stuff. It will come back, and the focal point of all treatment is "when" - how long can we beat it back. So, yeah, that'll be fun. Also? A good oncologist is worth several healthy kidneys on the black market. Find one who will be your partner and your MVP on your cancer-kicking team. Seriously. I pray you never need to take that advice, but if you do, you'll thank me.
I hesitated to blog about this. It's awkward enough having to tell people in real life. To be honest, it feels awkward seeing how very much the people in our lives love us (it's a GOOD problem to have - I'm not complaining, but I am significantly uncomfortable being on the receiving end of help - and thankful to be in a position that I know that, now). I didn't want it to take over this blog that's supposed to be about our adventures (the ones we wanted to have!) But when I first received my diagnosis, I looked for blogs about this. The first three I found ended with a final post about funeral services for the author. Gah! No! What? (*escape-escape-escape!*) This is not my plan! (*click-search-click*) Who else has blogged about this? (*clickety, click, click*) WHY HAVEN'T MORE PEOPLE BLOGGED ABOUT THIS? I did find a couple of blogs that were very helpful. There's that isolated period where you have your diagnosis but you're not ready to talk about it (don't even know quite what to say, or what there is to learn about it), and yet, you want to connect with someone - anyone - who has been there. Something to help take away the Unknown Factor from some of it. So I will blog and pay it forward. The next few posts will be repeat information for anyone who also knows me on Facebook and is in the group we set up, but hopefully they'll be encouraging for anyone who finds themselves waiting for a call on a biopsy at some point...
Be encouraged,
~Dy
Wednesday, November 19
Overwhelmed By Stuff
I keep trying to write, but the words that come aren't terribly uplifting. I'm tired. I'm irritable. I want to hire a team of mafia cleaners to come in and eradicate the house of identifying marks. (OK, mainly paper. Paper and stray socks.) They can take the stack of stuff I need to mail with them on the way out and deal with that, too.
Every single problem I have is not a problem. I get that. Doesn't stop me from wanting to go back to bed and read in peace. (Why does Neal Stephenson write such long, engrossing stories? He needs to get into writing short stories. That might help.) But life is good.
James received his Life rank at the Court of Honor this week. He's been working hard on that, and the reality that Eagle is on his plate hit him this week. He's excited/stunned/mildly surprised that it (meaning his entire childhood) happened so quickly. I love that kid.
Em and Jase joined a local My Little Pony club. They made ornaments this month, then played and ate. Perfect. The room was packed with 18 6-8 year-old boys and girls, and it was adorable.
And so, everyone is hunkered down for Winter, which came early and enthusiastically. The kids are hoping this means we'll have snow. I've reminded them that most people who live in the South do so out of a desire to avoid snow, so we don't mention this hope in public. We just fire up the wood stove and enjoy some downtime.
I think I'm going to go burn some stray papers. Maybe socks.
~Dy
Every single problem I have is not a problem. I get that. Doesn't stop me from wanting to go back to bed and read in peace. (Why does Neal Stephenson write such long, engrossing stories? He needs to get into writing short stories. That might help.) But life is good.
James received his Life rank at the Court of Honor this week. He's been working hard on that, and the reality that Eagle is on his plate hit him this week. He's excited/stunned/mildly surprised that it (meaning his entire childhood) happened so quickly. I love that kid.
Em and Jase joined a local My Little Pony club. They made ornaments this month, then played and ate. Perfect. The room was packed with 18 6-8 year-old boys and girls, and it was adorable.
And so, everyone is hunkered down for Winter, which came early and enthusiastically. The kids are hoping this means we'll have snow. I've reminded them that most people who live in the South do so out of a desire to avoid snow, so we don't mention this hope in public. We just fire up the wood stove and enjoy some downtime.
I think I'm going to go burn some stray papers. Maybe socks.
~Dy
Thursday, November 13
Days fly by. Kids get big.
It's been years since John loved dragons, but we've been so busy building wood smokers and forges, making PVC bows (just for fun, we don't take them too seriously) and bat boxes (not to mention food, in general) that we haven't updated the house.
Actually, we haven't entirely *finished* the house. But that's not the point of this post. This post is about making a room for 16 & 14 year old young men out of a room designed for 7, 5, and 2 year old little boys. Or, at least, starting on it.
First difference I noticed this time around? They're actual help. Not "help", but really fantastic help. They care about detail and drip edges and primer. W00t:
Second difference? They're a LOT taller than I am. Not that this is news, per se, but the practical aspects are becoming more clear. They can reach the ceiling with little assistance. How cool is that?
They also have fewer opinions about what to do with the room. When we did this the first time, they knew just what they wanted. They designed the stencils and picked the colors. They had Vision. This time around, they're pretty flexible and don't seem to care what we do with the walls as long as they get a better ceiling fan (which they have, now, and it's wonderful - but it hasn't helped develop a vision for the room aside from "quiet ceiling fan and good lighting").
We'll get some paint samples this week and start looking around for furnishing ideas. I'm pretty excited! They're... well, they're willing to do the heavy lifting. They'll be excited later, when it's done.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Actually, we haven't entirely *finished* the house. But that's not the point of this post. This post is about making a room for 16 & 14 year old young men out of a room designed for 7, 5, and 2 year old little boys. Or, at least, starting on it.
First difference I noticed this time around? They're actual help. Not "help", but really fantastic help. They care about detail and drip edges and primer. W00t:
Second difference? They're a LOT taller than I am. Not that this is news, per se, but the practical aspects are becoming more clear. They can reach the ceiling with little assistance. How cool is that?
They also have fewer opinions about what to do with the room. When we did this the first time, they knew just what they wanted. They designed the stencils and picked the colors. They had Vision. This time around, they're pretty flexible and don't seem to care what we do with the walls as long as they get a better ceiling fan (which they have, now, and it's wonderful - but it hasn't helped develop a vision for the room aside from "quiet ceiling fan and good lighting").
We'll get some paint samples this week and start looking around for furnishing ideas. I'm pretty excited! They're... well, they're willing to do the heavy lifting. They'll be excited later, when it's done.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Thursday, November 6
Old. Old, old, old. And dark.
I used to love the Fall time change. (Actually, I used to love living in Arizona, where I didn't have to deal with the time change. But if I had to spring forward, then being able to fall back was a perk. I got a jump start on each day, and we'd likely be on time to things for two or three months.)
This year, though, I'm not coping so well. Sure, I'm up and moving at five each morning, which is pretty fantastic for my overall productivity. But I find myself trying to herd the kids to bed each night around six o'clock. It's dark. We've eaten supper. (That productivity thing in action.) We've watched a little something. I have read everything I can handle reading for today. TIME FOR BED! Wait, what? HOW is it only six?
:30 minutes later:
I quietly check the time on my phone. Damn.
:30 minutes after that:
OK, kids, how about you get your jammies on and... but seven is nearly eight thirty... aren't you even the least bit tired? (Nope. Not in the least. As a matter of fact, who wants to play 5 Second Rule!?!?)
:another 30 minutes:
If you go to bed now, I will make you doughnuts for breakfast. (No takers. They're not tired! What is wrong with them?)
:30 very long minutes later:
You know what, I'm done for. I don't care if you ever go to bed, but I'm about to pass out on the floor. Start the dishwasher before you leave the kitchen, okay? M'kay. Love you. Night.
And they follow me into my room and proceed to do what they do every night - the snuggle-and-data-dump. Which I really love. Only in the Summer they do it much later and when it's still light out. I don't know why that combination makes such a difference, but it does. I've fallen asleep fully dressed three times this week. The Bigs think I'm just getting old. The Littles are worried that I'm losing my mind.
They may both be right. *yawn*
Kiss those babies, and send 'em to bed really early!
~Dy
This year, though, I'm not coping so well. Sure, I'm up and moving at five each morning, which is pretty fantastic for my overall productivity. But I find myself trying to herd the kids to bed each night around six o'clock. It's dark. We've eaten supper. (That productivity thing in action.) We've watched a little something. I have read everything I can handle reading for today. TIME FOR BED! Wait, what? HOW is it only six?
:30 minutes later:
I quietly check the time on my phone. Damn.
:30 minutes after that:
OK, kids, how about you get your jammies on and... but seven is nearly eight thirty... aren't you even the least bit tired? (Nope. Not in the least. As a matter of fact, who wants to play 5 Second Rule!?!?)
:another 30 minutes:
If you go to bed now, I will make you doughnuts for breakfast. (No takers. They're not tired! What is wrong with them?)
:30 very long minutes later:
You know what, I'm done for. I don't care if you ever go to bed, but I'm about to pass out on the floor. Start the dishwasher before you leave the kitchen, okay? M'kay. Love you. Night.
And they follow me into my room and proceed to do what they do every night - the snuggle-and-data-dump. Which I really love. Only in the Summer they do it much later and when it's still light out. I don't know why that combination makes such a difference, but it does. I've fallen asleep fully dressed three times this week. The Bigs think I'm just getting old. The Littles are worried that I'm losing my mind.
They may both be right. *yawn*
Kiss those babies, and send 'em to bed really early!
~Dy
Wednesday, November 5
November, What A Great Month
Having a great month so far! (Yeah, it's the fifth. I've decided to call it early and just enjoy the rest of it, whatever comes.)
Jacob managed to get a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup out of the wrapper without skinning the bottom. He was very excited (as I figured when I saw this on my phone --->)
We had a party on Halloween. It wasn't a scary, gory party - mainly because nobody would have come, and parties are more about the people who come and enjoy time together than they are about props or themes or decorations. (Thank God, because even for other holidays, I pretty much stink at any of that.) But I do miss grown-up costume parties. And I wanted to have some fun with the day, too. So I bought sparkly silver eyelashes. The children were scandalized. (Evidently, that's not appropriate attire for a Good Mother. I had to take my own picture, with my short little dinosaur arms that are not made for selfies. And what appears to be a fish eye lens... I'm not sure what's up with that.)
I'll be honest, I couldn't see, and the sparkly bits threw light around and I kept dodging and twitching because it looked like things coming at me out of my periphery. But it was fun. Also, I have so much respect for anyone who can wear those things and dance. Clearly, I'm not going to be heading for the Vegas stage any time soon.
Em and Jase were *stoked* to find their pumpkins on the wall at the library. When you're in the under ten crowd, this is right up there with getting published or having your picture in the paper.
Jase looked so cute in his costume. But the flash on the phone is really bright, and it stays on a long time. So I got this shot, which was live-captioned by Jase, "Mom! You're blinding me! Ow!"
And that's been about it. We want to take December off to do fun things, so we're doubling down on November to take up the slack. We'll see how that goes. Should be fun!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Jacob managed to get a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup out of the wrapper without skinning the bottom. He was very excited (as I figured when I saw this on my phone --->)
We had a party on Halloween. It wasn't a scary, gory party - mainly because nobody would have come, and parties are more about the people who come and enjoy time together than they are about props or themes or decorations. (Thank God, because even for other holidays, I pretty much stink at any of that.) But I do miss grown-up costume parties. And I wanted to have some fun with the day, too. So I bought sparkly silver eyelashes. The children were scandalized. (Evidently, that's not appropriate attire for a Good Mother. I had to take my own picture, with my short little dinosaur arms that are not made for selfies. And what appears to be a fish eye lens... I'm not sure what's up with that.)
I'll be honest, I couldn't see, and the sparkly bits threw light around and I kept dodging and twitching because it looked like things coming at me out of my periphery. But it was fun. Also, I have so much respect for anyone who can wear those things and dance. Clearly, I'm not going to be heading for the Vegas stage any time soon.
Em and Jase were *stoked* to find their pumpkins on the wall at the library. When you're in the under ten crowd, this is right up there with getting published or having your picture in the paper.
Jase looked so cute in his costume. But the flash on the phone is really bright, and it stays on a long time. So I got this shot, which was live-captioned by Jase, "Mom! You're blinding me! Ow!"
And that's been about it. We want to take December off to do fun things, so we're doubling down on November to take up the slack. We'll see how that goes. Should be fun!
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, October 29
That's So Weird
When the kids were little, I followed a number of bloggers who wrote about life, centered around family and family-centered learning. Their kids were also smallish, but older than mine. It was fun to get a peek into what was coming up - what milestones, what achievements, what challenges. To these ladies, some of whom are in-person friends now, I will be forever grateful.
But I noticed a few years ago that the word "weird" began cropping up in a large number of their posts. Where once there were descriptive re-tellings of events, the reports became a little vague ("We had a good turn out. The kids had fun. Someone set fire to the stage.") and stories were often left out, replaced with what felt like a passing glance ("life is just weird," or "boys can be so weird, God love 'em"). That seemed... odd.
I didn't get it. Did something happen? Are they okay? Did the kids mutate and she just can't say anything? A veil descended over the blogging end of parenthood with the ascendancy of the teen years. It was a little disconcerting, and if not for late-night chats with friends, I might have gotten a wee bit panicky.
But now? Now I get it. Teens are awesome, and amazing, and sometimes absolutely frustrating - but it's never just because. There's always a reason behind what they do. (I knew that, once. I'm glad I remembered before declaring it's time for them to walk the Earth and do weird things somewhere else.) And sometimes, moms don't really care what the reason is (if my mother were here, this is about where she'd raise her eyebrows at me and mutter, "You think?") I get that, now, too.
They are funny and brilliant and exuberant and Oh, so sleepy, all at the same time. And there are some tremendously endearing stories to be told, but they'll have to wait for the anonymity of time, for the buffer of maturity, maybe for an intimate evening with other moms over a bottle wine, swapping sweet, weird stories about years gone by. Right now, in the interest of blogging and honoring my relationship with my kids, I've finally come to grips with the use of the word weird.
And let me tell you, sometimes, life is just weird. Oh, it's good. And it's amazing. And I laugh more, smile more, *think* more, enjoy the inside jokes more with the teens than ever before. (It was pretty fantastic to begin with, so this is really saying something.)
My music exposure, which had pretty much stalled out at whatever I listened to in 1998, has exploded with new stuff, all courtesy of the boys.
They challenge me to maintain the same levels of integrity we've taught them to expect.
And yet, they're still learning, still growing, still trying things out and discarding what doesn't work (sometimes picking it up and trying it again, just to be sure). In these man-sized bodies, with these Titan-sized dreams, there are still the kernels of the large-pawed puppies they were just a couple of years ago. Beside that, there are echoes of the little boy with his pet slug, his favorite cape, tugging my arm to show me a wren's nest... and the whole thing collapses in on me, sometimes every day, sometimes several times a day. I don't always know what to do with it. It's weird.
They still bring me their treasures, and I still cherish them, but it's with a quieter awe that I accept them, now. I get how much it means to share your most valuable gifts with someone, and I'm freakishly honored that they still share them with me.
So if you notice your friends who once told such hilarious and delightful stories about their children suddenly get a little hush-hush, don't panic. Look for the twinkle in their eyes, the laugh that escapes in the pause of a sentence, the little head-shake and loss of words. It just means life gets a little weird sometimes. It'll be okay. It'll be better than okay.
Always, always kiss those babies!
~Dy
But I noticed a few years ago that the word "weird" began cropping up in a large number of their posts. Where once there were descriptive re-tellings of events, the reports became a little vague ("We had a good turn out. The kids had fun. Someone set fire to the stage.") and stories were often left out, replaced with what felt like a passing glance ("life is just weird," or "boys can be so weird, God love 'em"). That seemed... odd.
When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro.~ Hunter S. Thompson
I didn't get it. Did something happen? Are they okay? Did the kids mutate and she just can't say anything? A veil descended over the blogging end of parenthood with the ascendancy of the teen years. It was a little disconcerting, and if not for late-night chats with friends, I might have gotten a wee bit panicky.
But now? Now I get it. Teens are awesome, and amazing, and sometimes absolutely frustrating - but it's never just because. There's always a reason behind what they do. (I knew that, once. I'm glad I remembered before declaring it's time for them to walk the Earth and do weird things somewhere else.) And sometimes, moms don't really care what the reason is (if my mother were here, this is about where she'd raise her eyebrows at me and mutter, "You think?") I get that, now, too.
I have long ago accepted that I am a little crazy and a little weird. It wasn't that exciting a revelation, though. Turns out everyone is.~ Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing.
They are funny and brilliant and exuberant and Oh, so sleepy, all at the same time. And there are some tremendously endearing stories to be told, but they'll have to wait for the anonymity of time, for the buffer of maturity, maybe for an intimate evening with other moms over a bottle wine, swapping sweet, weird stories about years gone by. Right now, in the interest of blogging and honoring my relationship with my kids, I've finally come to grips with the use of the word weird.
And let me tell you, sometimes, life is just weird. Oh, it's good. And it's amazing. And I laugh more, smile more, *think* more, enjoy the inside jokes more with the teens than ever before. (It was pretty fantastic to begin with, so this is really saying something.)
You have this ability to find beauty in weird places.~ Kamila Shamsie, Kartography
My music exposure, which had pretty much stalled out at whatever I listened to in 1998, has exploded with new stuff, all courtesy of the boys.
They challenge me to maintain the same levels of integrity we've taught them to expect.
And yet, they're still learning, still growing, still trying things out and discarding what doesn't work (sometimes picking it up and trying it again, just to be sure). In these man-sized bodies, with these Titan-sized dreams, there are still the kernels of the large-pawed puppies they were just a couple of years ago. Beside that, there are echoes of the little boy with his pet slug, his favorite cape, tugging my arm to show me a wren's nest... and the whole thing collapses in on me, sometimes every day, sometimes several times a day. I don't always know what to do with it. It's weird.
Know what's weird? Day by day, nothing seems to change. But pretty soon, everything's different.~ Bill Watterson
They still bring me their treasures, and I still cherish them, but it's with a quieter awe that I accept them, now. I get how much it means to share your most valuable gifts with someone, and I'm freakishly honored that they still share them with me.
So if you notice your friends who once told such hilarious and delightful stories about their children suddenly get a little hush-hush, don't panic. Look for the twinkle in their eyes, the laugh that escapes in the pause of a sentence, the little head-shake and loss of words. It just means life gets a little weird sometimes. It'll be okay. It'll be better than okay.
Be the weirdest little weird in all Weird Town.~ Grace Helbig
Always, always kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, October 27
I Have Learned Something Very Important
We must use the wall calendar. October was absolutely harrowing as far as time management, and I've spent the last week trying to figure out how I dropped ALL THE BALLS in so many ways. It didn't make sense.
This morning I sat down with the boys to go over the calendar and Lo, and Behold - October is blank. We never filled in October's plan, and evidently the mantra, "If it isn't on the calendar, it doesn't happen" is more true than we realized.
Without it, the days zip past in a whirling blur of picking up, rushing out the door, and not having anything ready for dinner until it's way past bedtime. Without the trusty wall calendar, every event is a surprise and preparation fails to happen. I know this now.
Not that October was unpleasant. We had a lovely time.
We've been to museums...
And toured Cathedral Caverns...
Celebrated with friends...
And visited an apple orchard...
We did forensics labs with friends,
Enjoyed Historic Downtown Decatur during the 150th anniversary observance of the Battle for Decatur,
And captured this magnificent ruff at the Renaissance Faire! (James ducked down onto one knee when he requested the honor of taking a photograph with the Queen - I told him I wish I'd known he was going to do that because it was awesome and hilarious and caught me completely off guard so I didn't get a picture. He said he had no idea he was going to do it until he got in front of her and it just seemed like it had to be done. Love impromptu fun!)
So, all in all, it was a wonderful month. But November's calendar is filled in, if for no other reason than that I don't like eating at 9PM.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
This morning I sat down with the boys to go over the calendar and Lo, and Behold - October is blank. We never filled in October's plan, and evidently the mantra, "If it isn't on the calendar, it doesn't happen" is more true than we realized.
Without it, the days zip past in a whirling blur of picking up, rushing out the door, and not having anything ready for dinner until it's way past bedtime. Without the trusty wall calendar, every event is a surprise and preparation fails to happen. I know this now.
Not that October was unpleasant. We had a lovely time.
We've been to museums...
And toured Cathedral Caverns...
Celebrated with friends...
And visited an apple orchard...
We did forensics labs with friends,
And captured this magnificent ruff at the Renaissance Faire! (James ducked down onto one knee when he requested the honor of taking a photograph with the Queen - I told him I wish I'd known he was going to do that because it was awesome and hilarious and caught me completely off guard so I didn't get a picture. He said he had no idea he was going to do it until he got in front of her and it just seemed like it had to be done. Love impromptu fun!)
So, all in all, it was a wonderful month. But November's calendar is filled in, if for no other reason than that I don't like eating at 9PM.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Tuesday, September 23
Tiny Co-Op
I've avoided using a co-op for ten years. Mostly, we just never found one that would fit what we'd need from an outside source. But this year, we have six students who needed Biology. And labs sound like a lot more fun with friends. So three families got together and put together a Tiny Co-op. It's just Biology. And snacks.
The Littles do their thing during the class period (usually begging food off the host of the week). JakeRabbit works on whatever he needs to wrap up before the next library trip, and wanders in to observe. (He's made it fairly clear that I need to plan on doing something similar when he hits high school.) The high school students do their research independently and the labs in pairs.
They have absolutely blown me away with what they're doing. Not just the way they cover the material, but their willingness to discuss topics in depth. And one of our students does some absolutely fantastic lab drawings! I'll see if she will let me take a picture next week so I can share it. All around, it's been a fun reminder that teens are incredibly capable, funny, insightful, and diligent. (Or they can be, when they have the opportunity.)
We're using High School Biology in Your Home, from Bridget Ardoin. The students are given the topic and questions to answer over the course of the week. They can use whatever material they want to do their resource (so the first week we covered the elements of a trustworthy, reputable source). They learn to cite their sources, follow rabbit trails, and fill in the depth of their knowledge as much as they are motivated to. The labs are fantastic. There are enough typos in the printed material that it's a bit distracting, and I'd love to get my hands on fixing them. But the process is sound, and we'll definitely be using her Chemistry program next year.
I hope everyone else is willing to co-op again!
And just for fun, the boys' Troop had a cook-off at the meeting last night. Each patrol had to prepare a trail meal over a camp stove, and then present its meal to the judges. That was hilarious and fantastic. After the judging, the boys ate the evidence. (I didn't get to the camera in time to snap a shot of the full production.) Once again, kids will blow you away if you give them half a chance.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, September 21
Almost Fall!
It's nearly Autumn, and we're all counting down! Mornings have been cool enough to enjoy a hot beverage and a book on the balcony, and that, alone, makes Summer heat almost worth it.
Jacob is 11, now. James is 16. Jacob, I can handle. But James? I honestly have no clue how that happened. I feel neither old enough to have a 16yo, nor like he's been around long enough to have reached that age. It's a bit surreal, to be honest. I mean, it's not like he's still a pudgy toddler who insists on closing doors people have left open. He's taller than I am by a significant bit (although he'll still gladly close doors and turn off lights, so that's handy), and he's full of great questions and challenging scenarios and wonderful ideas. But still... 16 seems so... grown, but not-grown, and so big-but-not-really-done-yet. But still a lot bigger and more grown than seems reasonable. :sniff:
And it's a little weird. The inner workings of the adolescent mind are fascinating and awe-inspiring, and a titch terrifying, from the parent's perspective. I guess that shows on my face, because he'll often burst out laughing mid-discussion and assure me, "There's no reason for this line of questioning. I was honestly just wondering about the (moral/legal/ethical/historical) implications." Oh. Well. That's... OK, I'll take it.
For Jacob's birthday, we had a little cookout and gathering. James wants to have an anime marathon, so that'll take some schedule wrangling with his peeps. They're all so laid back and easy going. I'm really lucky. Old, but lucky.
Again, I'll take it.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Jacob is 11, now. James is 16. Jacob, I can handle. But James? I honestly have no clue how that happened. I feel neither old enough to have a 16yo, nor like he's been around long enough to have reached that age. It's a bit surreal, to be honest. I mean, it's not like he's still a pudgy toddler who insists on closing doors people have left open. He's taller than I am by a significant bit (although he'll still gladly close doors and turn off lights, so that's handy), and he's full of great questions and challenging scenarios and wonderful ideas. But still... 16 seems so... grown, but not-grown, and so big-but-not-really-done-yet. But still a lot bigger and more grown than seems reasonable. :sniff:
And it's a little weird. The inner workings of the adolescent mind are fascinating and awe-inspiring, and a titch terrifying, from the parent's perspective. I guess that shows on my face, because he'll often burst out laughing mid-discussion and assure me, "There's no reason for this line of questioning. I was honestly just wondering about the (moral/legal/ethical/historical) implications." Oh. Well. That's... OK, I'll take it.
For Jacob's birthday, we had a little cookout and gathering. James wants to have an anime marathon, so that'll take some schedule wrangling with his peeps. They're all so laid back and easy going. I'm really lucky. Old, but lucky.
Again, I'll take it.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Saturday, September 6
This is the week that will not end
Some weeks seem to go on forever in an idyllic onslaught of joy and adventure.
This is not one of those weeks. This week we're all on full throttle, but only half the cylinders are firing, so there are are lot of backfires and rough starts. It's crazy. We've been up and out the door early every morning this week, and that's starting to wear on our collective nerves. We'll have to be out the door early both mornings this weekend, too, and I suspect the boys are about to lobby for a Late Start Monday policy after weeks that carry this level of intensity. If they don't, I just might.
But it's all good stuff. Today was particularly fun: our local homeschool social group started back. It felt so good to get in there and *know* people, to see kids we haven't seen all Summer and spend time with friends we've seen just recently, to hear the plans for the coming months and get excited all over again about what we've got to look forward to. That part was awesome. Today, I felt like I was home, and remembered being new and feeling like an alien interloper every time I walked in to the meeting. It's good to be over that. It's good to be home.
And we have a lot of new families with teens, so that's also exciting. Except for the part where people seem to think I'm in charge of teen activities... which I'm not. Or, more accurately, I strive very hard not to be. I will continue to insist that I'm just inviting people to come do things we were going to do, anyway. The idea of giving the impression that I'm organized, or that any of our outings resemble anything other than relatively organic eruptions of activity in beautiful surroundings, is likely to leave people disappointed. But if they show up to hang out with friends, make new friends, and maybe see or do something interesting in the meantime, then yeah, I'm your gal. I hope the new families are very laid back and understanding. That would also be pretty fantastic!
Homer took off Tuesday to do... whatever it is cats do when they take off. I don't know. This is the first time he's done it, and he hasn't really told me much about his trip. Kerouac impressions? Do they find wild catnip and discarded absinthe bottles and channel their inner Hunter S. Thompson? Whatever it was (and based on his condition when he showed up this afternoon, I'm laying odds he could tell you stories about those bats), he is home. He's eaten an entire can of tuna and hasn't stopped purring and kneading the floor since he got in. He hobbles around like a 90yo after hip replacement surgery, and he with every step he gripes like a hungover co-ed: "Ow. Ugh. Ow. Damn. Ow. Oh, cold floor. Gah, I should have just peed in the closet."
Bless him for not peeing in my closet. And we're all really glad he's back. But dang if that wasn't the longest week of trying to be optimistic I think I've had in a while. I tried to keep it positive for the kids, but by this morning, they were looking at each other skeptically, as if to say, "Do you think we should tell her he's probably dead?" So, yay for having Homer Kitty home.
Z was on the road for work the first half of the week, but he got home a couple of days early. The littles made him a welcome home banner and hung it on the door. The boys refrained from watching shows they know Z would like to watch with them. I love that they notice his absence. I love that his presence makes such an impact on our home, and our lives. He is pretty much everything a family could want in a Dad. And he puts up with us and our weirdness - our wonky schedule, random animals, weird diet, non-stop talking. Yep, we're pretty fortunate.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
This is not one of those weeks. This week we're all on full throttle, but only half the cylinders are firing, so there are are lot of backfires and rough starts. It's crazy. We've been up and out the door early every morning this week, and that's starting to wear on our collective nerves. We'll have to be out the door early both mornings this weekend, too, and I suspect the boys are about to lobby for a Late Start Monday policy after weeks that carry this level of intensity. If they don't, I just might.
But it's all good stuff. Today was particularly fun: our local homeschool social group started back. It felt so good to get in there and *know* people, to see kids we haven't seen all Summer and spend time with friends we've seen just recently, to hear the plans for the coming months and get excited all over again about what we've got to look forward to. That part was awesome. Today, I felt like I was home, and remembered being new and feeling like an alien interloper every time I walked in to the meeting. It's good to be over that. It's good to be home.
And we have a lot of new families with teens, so that's also exciting. Except for the part where people seem to think I'm in charge of teen activities... which I'm not. Or, more accurately, I strive very hard not to be. I will continue to insist that I'm just inviting people to come do things we were going to do, anyway. The idea of giving the impression that I'm organized, or that any of our outings resemble anything other than relatively organic eruptions of activity in beautiful surroundings, is likely to leave people disappointed. But if they show up to hang out with friends, make new friends, and maybe see or do something interesting in the meantime, then yeah, I'm your gal. I hope the new families are very laid back and understanding. That would also be pretty fantastic!
Homer took off Tuesday to do... whatever it is cats do when they take off. I don't know. This is the first time he's done it, and he hasn't really told me much about his trip. Kerouac impressions? Do they find wild catnip and discarded absinthe bottles and channel their inner Hunter S. Thompson? Whatever it was (and based on his condition when he showed up this afternoon, I'm laying odds he could tell you stories about those bats), he is home. He's eaten an entire can of tuna and hasn't stopped purring and kneading the floor since he got in. He hobbles around like a 90yo after hip replacement surgery, and he with every step he gripes like a hungover co-ed: "Ow. Ugh. Ow. Damn. Ow. Oh, cold floor. Gah, I should have just peed in the closet."
Bless him for not peeing in my closet. And we're all really glad he's back. But dang if that wasn't the longest week of trying to be optimistic I think I've had in a while. I tried to keep it positive for the kids, but by this morning, they were looking at each other skeptically, as if to say, "Do you think we should tell her he's probably dead?" So, yay for having Homer Kitty home.
Z was on the road for work the first half of the week, but he got home a couple of days early. The littles made him a welcome home banner and hung it on the door. The boys refrained from watching shows they know Z would like to watch with them. I love that they notice his absence. I love that his presence makes such an impact on our home, and our lives. He is pretty much everything a family could want in a Dad. And he puts up with us and our weirdness - our wonky schedule, random animals, weird diet, non-stop talking. Yep, we're pretty fortunate.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Wednesday, September 3
My Favorite Things
One of the best things about living in Northern Alabama is the ready access to water. My children think of this simply as "going outside to play". They have no idea why I get giddy every time I see water. (Yes, ten years of living here and it still thrills me. Every time.)
The weather has been lovely enough for water activity, and this is a little spot we found a few weeks back and just had to check out with our hiking group. What a pleasant surprise! The grounds are clean, the area is well-maintained, and although everyone had on shoes, nobody ran across stray glass or hooks. (Still, wear your shoes in the river, kids.)
There was a child on the rope when we snapped this shot. Kind of looks like the Kraken is emerging, there, though, doesn't it? Or diving. I promise it wasn't as creepy as it reads. Someone (either James or I) is slow on the trigger, and I have quite a few pictures very much like this - swaying rope, no child, churning water. We left with the same number of children we arrived with, however, and that wrapped up the first year of hiking group with a stellar record of no lost children and no ER visits directly related to the hikes!
Today, mid-way through what has turned out to be a particularly grueling week, I've found myself trying to figure out when we can slip away for another morning's play before the weather turns cool again. Just... one more... please? I'd bet the kids are up for it. We just have to convince the schedule to give a little.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, September 1
As You Like It
Every year, I remember that Nashville has a Shakespeare in the Park performance. Usually, I remember this the week after the last performance. So this year, we invited friends (accountability), picked a date (procrastination), and we went! I am so glad we did.
It was absolutely fantastic. We took our blankets and spread out on the grass near the front of the stage. This is probably my favorite way to watch live theater, now. It was a long day, with the 2-hour drive each way, but that was made more fun with friends. It was, without a doubt, absolutely worth it, though.
Everything about this performance by the Nashville Shakespeare Festival was delightful and engaging, but one thing I hadn't thought about before hand was the music. This is *Nashville*! The music blew us all away. At first, we didn't think the actors on stage were singing live. It was too good. Then we realized that's exactly what they were doing. So that was like getting a whole other performance on top of the Shakespeare.
Actually, most of the pictures I did get centered around the food. They had Thai, Egyptian, and BBQ. Oh, how much we spent trying a little of everything! I'm so glad my kids are adventurous eaters. And we do love some food truck food. (As an aside, anybody ever call them "roach coaches"? I get that that's considered derogatory, but we always meant it affectionately. I'm working very hard on not squealing with delight, "Oh! Let's see what's at the roach coach!" when we pull into a venue and see the trucks lined up. But I do still say it on the inside.)
So, yes, Mr. Shakespeare, we did like it. We liked it very much. From the atmosphere to the production to the food trucks, this was one of our favorite outings of 2014 so far.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Sunday, August 31
Sick School
I've gotta work on reminding the boys that it's okay to say you're too sick to do school. Actually, that it's okay to say you're actually sick, at all. They don't complain. They don't malinger. They might take extra D, keep a water bottle on them and suck down the water, and briefly mention in passing that perhaps something with green chile in it would be good for lunch because they're not feeling so well.
Then they get on with whatever we had on the schedule.
And that's actually kind of cool.
Until I get it, and it lays me out like a beached jellyfish on a hot Summer's day.
And so we fell. One every couple of days or so. It's viral, and it moves quickly, but everyone falls. The worst of it is over in about three days, but then the aftermath looks a lot like the zombie shows (the old ones, with the slow zombies - none of this Zombieland nonsense). It seems to take another five or six days to regroup the strength to function like a normal person. Thank God for Netflix. When I was a kid, being sick meant nothing but daytime TV on rabbit ears. I got hooked and all spooled up on Guiding Light when I had chicken pox in the 6th grade. They got to watch Tudor Monastery Farm, Sword Art Online, and Black Adder. They don't know how good they had it.
But Z and I do. Oh, yes. We were loving technology this week.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Then they get on with whatever we had on the schedule.
And that's actually kind of cool.
Until I get it, and it lays me out like a beached jellyfish on a hot Summer's day.
ME: What the what, boys? Is THIS what you had? How did you function this week?!
BOY(S): Um, yeah. I told you I wasn't feeling well.
ME: You mentioned that you were going to take a shower to see if it would clear your sinuses. You never once mentioned the rodent clawing your tonsils! Or the expanding thing that took over your head. Or how hard it is to remain upright!
BOY(S): Well, no. But I told you I wasn't feeling well.
ME: (groaning as I collapse on the couch) The devil is in the details, boys.
And so we fell. One every couple of days or so. It's viral, and it moves quickly, but everyone falls. The worst of it is over in about three days, but then the aftermath looks a lot like the zombie shows (the old ones, with the slow zombies - none of this Zombieland nonsense). It seems to take another five or six days to regroup the strength to function like a normal person. Thank God for Netflix. When I was a kid, being sick meant nothing but daytime TV on rabbit ears. I got hooked and all spooled up on Guiding Light when I had chicken pox in the 6th grade. They got to watch Tudor Monastery Farm, Sword Art Online, and Black Adder. They don't know how good they had it.
But Z and I do. Oh, yes. We were loving technology this week.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
Monday, August 11
It's All Over Once the Planning Starts
10th, 9th, 6th, 3rd, 1st. We have the plans. We have the vision. We have the books. Amazon and the local book store have all the money. That's the way it goes, though, and I can't imagine it any other way.
I did eye uniforms on sale at Old Navy (not because I dream of sending them off, but because I dream of being able to do wash in three sets: khaki, navy, whites - how sweet would that be?) The boys lured me away by yelling, "Mom, they have 28-inch waist jeans on sale!" (Not for me. Pfft. I wish. For them. Still too big in the waist, but better than needing a rope or suspenders to keep the pants up.) They escaped uniforms this time. Who am I kidding? They'll escape every time. I'm well out of the realm of having much influence over their clothing choices beyond being able to explain rationally why a certain style may not be appropriate for a certain venue. And honestly? I'm okay with that. I shouldn't have too much influence, and it's not like I'm a fashionista who is going to lead them down the path of Awesome Swagger, anyway. Besides, all my effort lately goes to keeping them in shoes. Why didn't we move to the beach? Flip flops are easy and flexible.
With the onset of the planning, the temperatures conveniently shot into the 90's and drove us all inside. Or the other way around. Either way, it's hot and we're inside. Planning. And printing. And reading. But we did get out and enjoy a little adventure before the heat got to us. We hiked Caney Creek - literally, IN the creek, which I'd not done here before, but it was fascinating.
And a trip to Turkey Creek Nature Preserve, presumably so the young men could test their mettle against Nature.
We need to read some Jack London this year, maybe.
The hens should begin laying any day now. We heard that some of the hens from the first coop are, so we check the nesting boxes and other nooks and crannies each day. It's exciting!
Z and the boys have been making PVC bows lately. This means pretty much all progress elsewhere has come to a halt for now. But they're having so much fun with it, and they're doing it together, and they're all very creative. Plus, it gives me a chance to stay upstairs and throw things away. I've been doing this for a month, and I'm still finding things to throw out. Much of it is mine. It's probably good that they aren't up here to see that. I'd hate to lose my reputation as The Culler of All Things.
And really, that's been about it. I'd give calcified body parts at the moment for a bigger house, with just one extra room. But, here we stay. I should go throw away more stuff. Nobody's getting any smaller around here!
Kiss those (growing) babies!
~Dy
I did eye uniforms on sale at Old Navy (not because I dream of sending them off, but because I dream of being able to do wash in three sets: khaki, navy, whites - how sweet would that be?) The boys lured me away by yelling, "Mom, they have 28-inch waist jeans on sale!" (Not for me. Pfft. I wish. For them. Still too big in the waist, but better than needing a rope or suspenders to keep the pants up.) They escaped uniforms this time. Who am I kidding? They'll escape every time. I'm well out of the realm of having much influence over their clothing choices beyond being able to explain rationally why a certain style may not be appropriate for a certain venue. And honestly? I'm okay with that. I shouldn't have too much influence, and it's not like I'm a fashionista who is going to lead them down the path of Awesome Swagger, anyway. Besides, all my effort lately goes to keeping them in shoes. Why didn't we move to the beach? Flip flops are easy and flexible.
With the onset of the planning, the temperatures conveniently shot into the 90's and drove us all inside. Or the other way around. Either way, it's hot and we're inside. Planning. And printing. And reading. But we did get out and enjoy a little adventure before the heat got to us. We hiked Caney Creek - literally, IN the creek, which I'd not done here before, but it was fascinating.
And a trip to Turkey Creek Nature Preserve, presumably so the young men could test their mettle against Nature.
We need to read some Jack London this year, maybe.
The hens should begin laying any day now. We heard that some of the hens from the first coop are, so we check the nesting boxes and other nooks and crannies each day. It's exciting!
Z and the boys have been making PVC bows lately. This means pretty much all progress elsewhere has come to a halt for now. But they're having so much fun with it, and they're doing it together, and they're all very creative. Plus, it gives me a chance to stay upstairs and throw things away. I've been doing this for a month, and I'm still finding things to throw out. Much of it is mine. It's probably good that they aren't up here to see that. I'd hate to lose my reputation as The Culler of All Things.
And really, that's been about it. I'd give calcified body parts at the moment for a bigger house, with just one extra room. But, here we stay. I should go throw away more stuff. Nobody's getting any smaller around here!
Kiss those (growing) babies!
~Dy
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