Cosette sleepily stumbled to the table on Monday morning after Spring Break. A stack of hot cinnamon french toast beckoned her to dig in, but not before she looked up wearily, and yawned.
"Mama, when's it gonna be Friday?" she asked. Not soon enough, baby.
Spring Break 2012 was fun, but the Walsh clan didn't do anything exceptional. We just sorta rode the wave, you know? Several peeps that I know and love, planned trips to the Magic Kingdom, beautiful Santa Barbara, and even sunny Hawaii.
The highlight of our week was when I took the Biggies to watch Titanic in 3D on the big screen. I mean, we've had "the talk" and all, but it's another thing to see Jack and Rose getting it on, ya dig? So when the camera flashed to the sweaty, panting, and amorous couple holding eachother after they sealed the deal, Bella leaned over and whispered loudly, "Mom...why are Jack and Rose so sweaty?"
I kept a straight face, and answered the way any responsible parent would, "They were intimate, honey." That was met with a blank stare. I followed with, "Jack and Rose made love." Bella sorta turned away in disgust.
The next day, I was determined to bring those girls out into the outdoors for a hike on Harwood, but Mother Nature was not having it. We loaded up the truck, and started to drive, as rain spattered against the windshield. Still, I remained hopeful.
"Mom, it's raining. We can't hike now!" Abby explained. It sounded like a chorus, all the girls chiming in, "Yeah Mom. It looks like it's just not going to work out."
Errrr. My offspring did have a legitimate point. But they had been indoors for 48 hours, and I was just a hair away from being institutionalized. I succumbed to Plan B: the library...on a Friday...during Preschool Story Hour.
Holy Mother of God. I can't believe I used to take the twins WILLINGLY to that story hour. Like I utilized free will, and enjoyed doing so in the process. I have never seen so many unruly munchkins in all my life. Well, I mean, unless you count my own kids. But who could blame them? No one had seen the light of day due to the rain in over 2 days, and well...the noise level, I'm convinced would rival a Metallica concert.
As we wandered back to the truck, half deaf, I thought, "It has GOT to be Happy Hour." Nope, as luck would have it, still only 10:30 AM. Damn.
We headed back home, and a window of clear skies opened up. I welcomed that warm sunshiney weather with open arms, by promptly yelling at my kids, "OUTSIDE NOW!!! Go jump on the trampoline. Or climb the Magnolia tree. ANYTHING...just do it outside." Now, that's what I call effective parenting right there. You won't read about that tactic in any book, but it works. The key: yelling really LOUDLY, while you furrow your brow, like you're on the edge. I don't even have to pretend anymore.
Speaking of effective Parenting 101...just recently I hopped onto the Parent Portal to discover that one of my children, who shall remain nameless, had failed to turn in several Reading Logs.
Tom and I agree on what we consider to be the most important value regarding education: we ask that our girls put forth their best effort in everything that they do. But our way of handling the situation differs a bit, as is shown by the following conversation that took place with our child.
Me: "I see here that you are missing several reading logs. This is not okay." Silence. I decided to try the yelling technique from earlier, "WHY? WHY AREN'T THEY DONE?"
Child: "I just didn't feel like doing them" Oh no, my head began swaying from side to side, anger seething out of me, "Oh no she didn't just say that."
Me: "Do you KNOW how many things I DO every DAY that I just don't feel like DOING?"
Tom: "It's really important to do things from the heart, honey. Because when you come from a position of love, you can never go wrong."
Wait a minute, I'm thinking to myself. I am very busy making a point here about how life is tough, and you better just get over it, and Tom is on a Love Train parable?
Me, butting in, and putting a complete and utter stop to his Unicorn and Rainbow talk: "Do you think I enjoy making a hot breakfast EVERY day? Do you think I enjoy doing laundry? Do you think I enjoy cooking?"
Tom: "See honey, Mama does these things out of love for you. She knows she has to do them, but she does it with love in her heart."
I do?
Tom continued, and I knew better at this point, than to shut up and listen to him bring his point home.
Tom: "You know how I have all that paperwork upstairs, and I HATE doing it? I would much rather be with you, or your sisters, or your Mama. Well, it's part of my responsibility so that you can have a house to come home to, a bed to sleep in, and a Mom who can be home with you. So even though, I don't like doing it, I try to do it with love in my heart. And it's your responsibility to get your school work done."
Child: "Oh, so even though I may not want to do something, if I do it with love and a good attitude, it makes life a lot better, right?"
Shit...he's good. Listening to your child with an open heart, and disciplining accordingly? Yep, I'm pretty sure you will find that chapter in the parenting book. Tom Walsh Super Genius strikes again.
And we sort of balance each other out. Me yelling, and following through with an action plan. Tom, singing Cumbaya, and leaving our girls with a sense that he really "gets" them.
It all works out, right?
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
The Christmas Letter...March 2012
Life in Walsh Land just continues to roll. Well, unless you consider that there was an attempted kid-napping of a 16 year old girl by some asshole using a Tazer gun on MY street last Friday. Yep, you read that right.
While most parents were left feeling scared out of their minds by this, I was filled with complete and utter RAGE. I felt violated. I felt that MY children were hurt, because of this child's physical harm. That 16 year old belongs to HER folks, and ME and YOU! Because they are ALL our babies. No matter if we grew them in our wombs or not. And I'll be damned, if I will let some asshole (who's 5'7, hispanic, 200 lbs, and driving a small red compact car) take my girls childhood from them! Simply put, I refuse to live in fear of what "may" happen, and I pray for protection over all children to keep them safe.
I did what any Mama would: scared the ever loving shit out of the twins with the story. These girls need to know what's going on in our hood...especially because they bike to and from school everyday together. It left me thinking...should I start driving them? Should I get them cell phones? Should I start home-schooling? Okay, so I never really had that last thought because I'm far too selfish, but it made me sound like a really invested parent, didn't it?
But after discussing the situation with Tom at length, we came to the same conclusion: life in our home shall remain the same. Riding bikes out front, climbing the rope on the Magnolia Tree, and jumping on the trampoline. Because before I know what hit me, my girls will be gone. And I don't want them to miss out on any of it.
That cute, big headed, red haired baby, is quickly approaching toddler hood. She walks, swaggering side to side, her noggin often dipped down into her chest, barely dodging the occasional passerby or piece of furniture. She sort of resembles a drunk person, who's on the verge of passing out. In fact, just the other day during pick up at school, as Charlie swayed her way across the black top, a 5th grade boy weighing at least 110 lbs, ran right into her. That poor kid, he never even saw her, and felt horrible. As Charlotte howled the injustice of having her head smack the pavement, I assured the boy, it wasn't his fault. My leash with Charlie is a bit long, And truth be told, I give that baby 6 months before she has the run of the place.
I even speak to her now just like she's an ACTUAL, real live person. No more baby talk.
"Charlie, you want to help me make smoothies for snack?" I ask.
"YAY!!! YAY!!! YAY!!!" she shouts, followed by her boozey side step towards the fridge to gather the necessary goods. I just keep adding healthy stuff to the girls after-school snack-smoothies, and my kids have like NO idea: protein powder, flax meal, and some Emergen C going on, camouflaged by juice and frozen fruit. I sort of feel like a chemist...but I failed Chemistry in high school. Rut Ro. I hope I don't kill my offspring with possibly posionous, "healthy" combinations. Charlotte sucks down those smoothies through the straw like it's crack.
Speaking of crack, I do believe I should invent an "adult" smoothie. Why should we limit THC solely to lemon pound cake and brownies? Foxy, watch out. Next time I come up after your Chemo, I'm going to concoct a loaded smoothie. You will also start speaking like a Rastafarian and wearing tye-dye. Yeah mon.
Charlotte "communicates" by verbalizing the following phrases over, and over, and OVER again:
"YAY!" which is usually followed by,"Oh Wow!," and then "Wat happened?" and finally, "MOM????!!! MOM?! MOM?!!!"
Initially, I thought my baby was just looking for me in the house, and so so my reply, "What baby???? What? Mama's right here." By the way, I'm still confused as to why we refer to ourselves in the third person when talking to our children.
After she finds me applying make-up in the bathroom, cooking dinner in the kitchen, or simply hiding out from her behind the Lazy Boy chair, she continues, "MOM??? MOM???!!!"
I scream back, "WHAT?!! WHAT?!!!" to which she says, "MOM!!! MOM?!!"
That's when I start "pretending" I no longer hear her...just kidding.
Not really.
Charlotte is stingy with her smooches, but displays her affection in the oddest way. She will place her head on my lap, again somewhat resembling a drunkard, and nuzzle that large dome in between my legs. And let me tell you ...I'll take that love any way I can get it. Sweet, growing up fast, lil baby.
Cosette is plugging along, while successfully driving me to drink more everyday. Cozy has a lot of energy, no boundaries, and a ton of love to give out. And she will gladly deliver it to anyone who's in her path whether they've asked or not: family, friends, and on occasion, complete strangers.
Most of you already know that we decided to have Cosette repeat Kinder this year, as she just turned 6 in August.
I don't know if you've had a kid in Kindergarten lately, but I swear they are hazing these kids. You will only graduate with the OTHER Kindergartners, when you complete reading, and write a dissertation on Jane Eyre, can solve various equations using 3.14, and drive a car on the freeway without killing ANYone. Oh, and you have to know how to cut and paste too. Sharing is also important.
Seriously, Kindergarten is NOT for wimps these days. Tom and I along with the guidance of her teacher, felt that another year would give us more indication if she was immature, had a learning challenge, had ADD, or ALL of the above.
It's just like Forest Gump said, "Life is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get."
Fast forward to March 2012, Kinder Chapter 2: Cosette is not grasping concepts like she should at this point in time. And her attention span? Little to none. Like Zilch. Nada. I try to keep my cool, but I feel a bit frustrated and frazzled, when I tell her no less than 28 times to finish her dinner...brush her teeth...flush the toilet after she has had a BM. You may think I'm exaggerating. But if you've ever set foot in my house, you know I'm speaking the truth.
After meeting with Cozy's current Kinder teacher, we both agreed that she will definitely need "extra support" in first grade. That's code for: an IEP or 504 Plan. For those of you not familiar with these terms, an IEP and 504 Plans are code for: accomodations and modifications to help my Cozy learn more easily. Which is really just code for: GOOD TEACHING METHODOLOGY that should be going on in the classroom for ALL kids anyways.
With that being said, I find it completely unnecessary to have her tested through the district to put this in place for several reasons:
1. I have to fight tooth and nail to have it done because it costs them money. Been there, done that.
2. The testing process, itself, is long and arduous. Surely, it will exhaust, an already, exhausting child.
3. Even with testing completed, Cosette will most likely test low, but not LOW enough to actually determine she needs services.
Having prior experience with this scenario, I'm placing my money on a medical diagnosis. This is what SAVED us with Isabella. Recognizing that Cosette will most likely be diagnosed with ADHD, I'm game for getting her medicated, and getting her plan in place for school in that fashion.
Before anyone goes casting stones, I have seen first hand how much, and how far Bella has come with the drug known as Adderall. She is able to focus, and try new things. All of this, while still pushing her sister's buttons....amazing.
In all seriousness, I often wonder how many adults, who never got properly diagnosed, have gone their entire lives by self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. When maybe, they just needed some extra support, and the correct meds to help them balance out?
And quite frankly, I can totally see the future with Cosette in prison. We need help NOW.
It is WEIRD to recognize how much I have changed regarding the meds in the last 2 years, but it's true. And I'll say it loud and proud: medicate my kids if will help them learn, aid with focus, and keep their self-esteem intact. Believe me, I tried hugging trees and singing Cumbaya, and it didn't work. More deets regarding Cozy to follow.
Emma is rocking 4th grade. She is extremely studious, totally on it, and I'm convinced, she will one day be the President of the United States. Often, I look at Emma and wonder, how did YOU come out of ME?
Emma and I are participating in Girls on the Run together, where she is training to run a 5K in May. On my very first day coaching, we sat in our circle, making introductions. I took in 27sweet, little faces: Booksin girls in third, fourth, and fifth grades, who in just 10 short weeks, would be completing a 3.1 mile run. I mean, HOW COOL IS THAT?
But the program is not solely about the running. The lesson plans revolve around issues like: positive self-talk, recognizing and knowing what to do with emotions, and visualization. Yes, you read all of that right. I mean, this is stuff I'm teaching ADULTS at Weight Watchers. Who knows? If Girls on the Run would have been around in the 70's and 80's, I would have saved thousands in therapy. I highly recommend this program to ALL girls to teach them simply this: Power to the She. And yes, I totally stole that mantra from Athleta...who is a sponsor of GOTR, by the way.
Abby and Bella have come into their own in Middle School. They have become quite responsible by riding their bikes to and from school, completing their homework without me nagging them, and helping out with Charlie.
Just recently, the twins were contemplating playing Spring Basketball. After both completing try-outs, Bella came to a life-altering decision at the breakfast table:
"Mom, I'm just not feeling it right now. I don't really want to play basketball. I've got too much going on."
I wanted to be supportive of her choice, "Okay Bella, I will send Coach an email. But today you need to explain that this is your last practice." I am trying to teach the girls the importance of verbalizing their feelings, "Just tell Coach how you feel, and see what he says."
By this point, Abby had ceased eating her pancakes. This was a news flash to her. Recognizing that she was processing this new information, I asked,
"Abby, how does this make you feel?" (Can you tell we've had lots of counseling?)
"Well, I just feel really... alone... knowing Bella won't be there with me," she answered with an almost inaudible voice, "I mean, we just know what the other one is going to do. She passes me the ball, and I pass it to her."
Silence. What does a Mama say to that? My heart broke a little.
"Abby, I can see why you feel a little anxious and scared to play without your sister. But this is one of those times, when you guys are going to choose differently, and that's okay. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," long pause,"I guess," she said, not completely convinced that I knew what I was talking about.
Long story short, we ended up opting out of Spring Basketball. Practices are held Mondays and Wednesdays SMACK DAB in the middle of the afternoon during the fun-filled, responsibility-free, months known as June and July. After explaining this, I assured Abby that we would do it if she wanted to, but this was really going to screw up our fun. Just kidding.
Not really.
Abby, with a maturity not quite fitting her age just yet, replied, "I totally get it Mom. Let's just chill this summer and relax. I really like not having to be anywhere. I'm actually totally fine with it. I'll play basketball in the Fall."
Sometimes when my kids say stuff, I have just learned to shut up, and listen.
As Charlie would say, "Oh Wow."
While most parents were left feeling scared out of their minds by this, I was filled with complete and utter RAGE. I felt violated. I felt that MY children were hurt, because of this child's physical harm. That 16 year old belongs to HER folks, and ME and YOU! Because they are ALL our babies. No matter if we grew them in our wombs or not. And I'll be damned, if I will let some asshole (who's 5'7, hispanic, 200 lbs, and driving a small red compact car) take my girls childhood from them! Simply put, I refuse to live in fear of what "may" happen, and I pray for protection over all children to keep them safe.
I did what any Mama would: scared the ever loving shit out of the twins with the story. These girls need to know what's going on in our hood...especially because they bike to and from school everyday together. It left me thinking...should I start driving them? Should I get them cell phones? Should I start home-schooling? Okay, so I never really had that last thought because I'm far too selfish, but it made me sound like a really invested parent, didn't it?
But after discussing the situation with Tom at length, we came to the same conclusion: life in our home shall remain the same. Riding bikes out front, climbing the rope on the Magnolia Tree, and jumping on the trampoline. Because before I know what hit me, my girls will be gone. And I don't want them to miss out on any of it.
That cute, big headed, red haired baby, is quickly approaching toddler hood. She walks, swaggering side to side, her noggin often dipped down into her chest, barely dodging the occasional passerby or piece of furniture. She sort of resembles a drunk person, who's on the verge of passing out. In fact, just the other day during pick up at school, as Charlie swayed her way across the black top, a 5th grade boy weighing at least 110 lbs, ran right into her. That poor kid, he never even saw her, and felt horrible. As Charlotte howled the injustice of having her head smack the pavement, I assured the boy, it wasn't his fault. My leash with Charlie is a bit long, And truth be told, I give that baby 6 months before she has the run of the place.
I even speak to her now just like she's an ACTUAL, real live person. No more baby talk.
"Charlie, you want to help me make smoothies for snack?" I ask.
"YAY!!! YAY!!! YAY!!!" she shouts, followed by her boozey side step towards the fridge to gather the necessary goods. I just keep adding healthy stuff to the girls after-school snack-smoothies, and my kids have like NO idea: protein powder, flax meal, and some Emergen C going on, camouflaged by juice and frozen fruit. I sort of feel like a chemist...but I failed Chemistry in high school. Rut Ro. I hope I don't kill my offspring with possibly posionous, "healthy" combinations. Charlotte sucks down those smoothies through the straw like it's crack.
Speaking of crack, I do believe I should invent an "adult" smoothie. Why should we limit THC solely to lemon pound cake and brownies? Foxy, watch out. Next time I come up after your Chemo, I'm going to concoct a loaded smoothie. You will also start speaking like a Rastafarian and wearing tye-dye. Yeah mon.
Charlotte "communicates" by verbalizing the following phrases over, and over, and OVER again:
"YAY!" which is usually followed by,"Oh Wow!," and then "Wat happened?" and finally, "MOM????!!! MOM?! MOM?!!!"
Initially, I thought my baby was just looking for me in the house, and so so my reply, "What baby???? What? Mama's right here." By the way, I'm still confused as to why we refer to ourselves in the third person when talking to our children.
After she finds me applying make-up in the bathroom, cooking dinner in the kitchen, or simply hiding out from her behind the Lazy Boy chair, she continues, "MOM??? MOM???!!!"
I scream back, "WHAT?!! WHAT?!!!" to which she says, "MOM!!! MOM?!!"
That's when I start "pretending" I no longer hear her...just kidding.
Not really.
Charlotte is stingy with her smooches, but displays her affection in the oddest way. She will place her head on my lap, again somewhat resembling a drunkard, and nuzzle that large dome in between my legs. And let me tell you ...I'll take that love any way I can get it. Sweet, growing up fast, lil baby.
Cosette is plugging along, while successfully driving me to drink more everyday. Cozy has a lot of energy, no boundaries, and a ton of love to give out. And she will gladly deliver it to anyone who's in her path whether they've asked or not: family, friends, and on occasion, complete strangers.
Most of you already know that we decided to have Cosette repeat Kinder this year, as she just turned 6 in August.
I don't know if you've had a kid in Kindergarten lately, but I swear they are hazing these kids. You will only graduate with the OTHER Kindergartners, when you complete reading, and write a dissertation on Jane Eyre, can solve various equations using 3.14, and drive a car on the freeway without killing ANYone. Oh, and you have to know how to cut and paste too. Sharing is also important.
Seriously, Kindergarten is NOT for wimps these days. Tom and I along with the guidance of her teacher, felt that another year would give us more indication if she was immature, had a learning challenge, had ADD, or ALL of the above.
It's just like Forest Gump said, "Life is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get."
Fast forward to March 2012, Kinder Chapter 2: Cosette is not grasping concepts like she should at this point in time. And her attention span? Little to none. Like Zilch. Nada. I try to keep my cool, but I feel a bit frustrated and frazzled, when I tell her no less than 28 times to finish her dinner...brush her teeth...flush the toilet after she has had a BM. You may think I'm exaggerating. But if you've ever set foot in my house, you know I'm speaking the truth.
After meeting with Cozy's current Kinder teacher, we both agreed that she will definitely need "extra support" in first grade. That's code for: an IEP or 504 Plan. For those of you not familiar with these terms, an IEP and 504 Plans are code for: accomodations and modifications to help my Cozy learn more easily. Which is really just code for: GOOD TEACHING METHODOLOGY that should be going on in the classroom for ALL kids anyways.
With that being said, I find it completely unnecessary to have her tested through the district to put this in place for several reasons:
1. I have to fight tooth and nail to have it done because it costs them money. Been there, done that.
2. The testing process, itself, is long and arduous. Surely, it will exhaust, an already, exhausting child.
3. Even with testing completed, Cosette will most likely test low, but not LOW enough to actually determine she needs services.
Having prior experience with this scenario, I'm placing my money on a medical diagnosis. This is what SAVED us with Isabella. Recognizing that Cosette will most likely be diagnosed with ADHD, I'm game for getting her medicated, and getting her plan in place for school in that fashion.
Before anyone goes casting stones, I have seen first hand how much, and how far Bella has come with the drug known as Adderall. She is able to focus, and try new things. All of this, while still pushing her sister's buttons....amazing.
In all seriousness, I often wonder how many adults, who never got properly diagnosed, have gone their entire lives by self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. When maybe, they just needed some extra support, and the correct meds to help them balance out?
And quite frankly, I can totally see the future with Cosette in prison. We need help NOW.
It is WEIRD to recognize how much I have changed regarding the meds in the last 2 years, but it's true. And I'll say it loud and proud: medicate my kids if will help them learn, aid with focus, and keep their self-esteem intact. Believe me, I tried hugging trees and singing Cumbaya, and it didn't work. More deets regarding Cozy to follow.
Emma is rocking 4th grade. She is extremely studious, totally on it, and I'm convinced, she will one day be the President of the United States. Often, I look at Emma and wonder, how did YOU come out of ME?
Emma and I are participating in Girls on the Run together, where she is training to run a 5K in May. On my very first day coaching, we sat in our circle, making introductions. I took in 27sweet, little faces: Booksin girls in third, fourth, and fifth grades, who in just 10 short weeks, would be completing a 3.1 mile run. I mean, HOW COOL IS THAT?
But the program is not solely about the running. The lesson plans revolve around issues like: positive self-talk, recognizing and knowing what to do with emotions, and visualization. Yes, you read all of that right. I mean, this is stuff I'm teaching ADULTS at Weight Watchers. Who knows? If Girls on the Run would have been around in the 70's and 80's, I would have saved thousands in therapy. I highly recommend this program to ALL girls to teach them simply this: Power to the She. And yes, I totally stole that mantra from Athleta...who is a sponsor of GOTR, by the way.
Abby and Bella have come into their own in Middle School. They have become quite responsible by riding their bikes to and from school, completing their homework without me nagging them, and helping out with Charlie.
Just recently, the twins were contemplating playing Spring Basketball. After both completing try-outs, Bella came to a life-altering decision at the breakfast table:
"Mom, I'm just not feeling it right now. I don't really want to play basketball. I've got too much going on."
I wanted to be supportive of her choice, "Okay Bella, I will send Coach an email. But today you need to explain that this is your last practice." I am trying to teach the girls the importance of verbalizing their feelings, "Just tell Coach how you feel, and see what he says."
By this point, Abby had ceased eating her pancakes. This was a news flash to her. Recognizing that she was processing this new information, I asked,
"Abby, how does this make you feel?" (Can you tell we've had lots of counseling?)
"Well, I just feel really... alone... knowing Bella won't be there with me," she answered with an almost inaudible voice, "I mean, we just know what the other one is going to do. She passes me the ball, and I pass it to her."
Silence. What does a Mama say to that? My heart broke a little.
"Abby, I can see why you feel a little anxious and scared to play without your sister. But this is one of those times, when you guys are going to choose differently, and that's okay. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," long pause,"I guess," she said, not completely convinced that I knew what I was talking about.
Long story short, we ended up opting out of Spring Basketball. Practices are held Mondays and Wednesdays SMACK DAB in the middle of the afternoon during the fun-filled, responsibility-free, months known as June and July. After explaining this, I assured Abby that we would do it if she wanted to, but this was really going to screw up our fun. Just kidding.
Not really.
Abby, with a maturity not quite fitting her age just yet, replied, "I totally get it Mom. Let's just chill this summer and relax. I really like not having to be anywhere. I'm actually totally fine with it. I'll play basketball in the Fall."
Sometimes when my kids say stuff, I have just learned to shut up, and listen.
As Charlie would say, "Oh Wow."
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Foxy Trot
Hmmm, quite a lot has happened since the last time I creatively vomited all over the paper as a cathartic outlet. Blogging is like the cheapest form of therapy on the planet. I constantly have all of these unbridled thoughts whizzing around in my head. It's like watching a tennis ball in Serena/Venus match. But when I spill my thoughts out in my blog, the pinging stops. For a moment in time, Serena and Venus embrace in a bear hug. Until new thoughts take their place. And then it's game on.
After it had been raining for the better part of the day on Monday, I saw a possible window of clear skies for a walk. I checked the weather on the end all-be all of knowledge: my iphone = 30% chance. You know what that means, right? 70% chance of NO rain. "Bring it. We'll totally make it back in time," I thought. Besides, I hadn't gotten a work out in that day, and I was more than ready to move and get outside by any means possible.
As I bundled up Charlie girl, and threw her in the jogger, Cosette rolled out her bike, and Abby laced up her shoes. "Let's go!" I said, and we headed out.
As we walked side by side, Abby asked, "Mom, what's your favorite holiday?" about a mile from home. Cozy shouted out, "I love THANKSGIVING because we get to EAT!!" as she navigated her bike between puddles. "Oh Gosh babe, I'm not sure," I answered, tired from the day, and not really wanting to think. So I turned to her and said, "What's your favorite?" What she said, still amazes me. "Well, I love Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter. But I really love the parent days, like Mother's Day and Father's Day. Because that's when I really get to see you and dad happy." Oh my. I didn't expect my daughter to say that. I was stunned. Perspective is an amazing thing, isn't it?
It's funny how my perspective has changed over time. Cause see, for those of you that don't already know, my Mama was diagnosed with Stage 3 Lung Cancer a little over a month ago. That kind of news puts your shit in perspective, man.
Tom's work truck, which was parked on the street, got totaled by a hit and run driver. When we found out, we both sort of had the same reaction. "BFD." Like, my Mom... she has CANCER. Nothing is more important than the people in your life that you love.
When I found out that my mom was having a biopsy, I did what any daughter would do: waited out traffic, got in my car, and drove up to my folks house, un-announced, and un-invited. Quite honestly, I didn't know what their reaction was going to be, so I waited to call them...til I was basically standing outside the front door.
"You're WHERE? Oh Michelle, we don't even have any information right now. It's just a biopsy," Foxy explained, trying not to worry me. "Well, that's okay Mom. Because The Love Train is coming. And I can guarantee that you will be spending more one-on-one time with my brothers and I, than you ever dreamed possible. Mom, this is how I'm choosing to love you today. Take my love, and run with it."
That was Tuesday. Wednesday she had the biopsy. Thursday we found out it was cancer. I stayed for a week. How could I leave?
In just a month and a half, the world, as I know it, has changed dramatically. Foxy has a tumor that is growing in her right lung; it's bigger than a golf ball, but smaller than a tennis ball. Although the cancer has not spread to her brain, it has traveled to a lymph node in the center of her chest, that just happens to be located next to her windpipe. And so the treatment plan looks like this: 2 rounds of Chemo, 3 weeks apart to shrink that GD tumor, and eradicate the cancer that has spread. After another PET Scan, we faithfully pray that Foxy can then undergo surgery to remove the tumor. If the Chemo fails to do anything, it doesn't make sense to operate. But we don't go THERE!
The most difficult times for me, was knowing when my mom was in pain. I grieved the nights when she slept fitfully, changing positions constantly throughout the night, trying to ease the pressure of that stupid tumor. The day of the Pet Scan, when she had to be absolutely still, and they couldn't give her anything to ease the discomfort. And the MRI....torture. I have never felt so utterly helpless and useless at the same time.
But do you want to hear something crazy? During most of this difficult time, I have felt oddly peaceful. I can only attest this calm to one thing: God's love.
Maybe you haven't felt God's love recently, or you feel as though he has forgotten you. Or maybe you have just never been taught who he is, and are a bit skeptical, but a little bit curious. I'm standing beside you today, to say GOD's love for us is REAL.
Have you ever been outside somewhere, and felt teeny tiny? Seen something and it absolutely takes your breath away? Met someone, and felt lighter just being with them? That's when we say, "Man, there is something bigger than me that is responsible for this greatness". No matter if you call it a him or a her. No matter if you're Christian or Jewish. No matter if you believe in Buddha or Jesus. No matter if you don't have a name for it at all.
God's love is unconditional and real. And it is the ONLY thing that gives me comfort when my world is spinning out of control. So I've learned to be still, shut up, and listen to the whispers that come to me, as God's guidance and direction. And one of those voices told me to pack differently for my second trip.
My second visit was more planned out, prior to Mom's first Chemo treatment. And I was fully prepared with the following: 2 changes of clothes, work out clothes, toiletry bag, smutty magazines, and pot brownies Hey man, don't knock it, til your mom has pain and has been diagnosed with Cancer. Besides, chances are, if you're reading my blog, you've tried dope. And if you haven't, you really should....responsibly!
Respectfully, Mom and Dad wanted to get the "okay" from the doctors to use THC to ease the nausea, aide with pain, increase her appetite, and help Foxy induce sweet slumber. And I am here to tell you this: when I arrived, mom was taking 4 pain pills per day. Fast forward 2 weeks, and she's off all pain meds.
She's high as a kite, but who can blame her? JUST KIDDING, MOM!!! In fact, I told her before I left, "Mom, if you're thinking about applying for a new job right now, don't expect to pass the drug test." She laughed. My mom who has NEVER done any drug in her life. My mom who has a glass of wine when she's feeling "crazy". My mom who is going to kick Cancer's ass...
This is what I know: nothing is promised. Each moment we have is a gift. I'm blessed beyond words with my family and friends. I love the time that Foxy and I have spent together. And I look forward to styling her wig, rubbing her achy feet, and possibly sharing a brownie or two.
By the way, for those of you who are interested, I will be organizing a "Foxy Trot" walk in the near future. I was thinking all finishers should receive a brownie. Who's game?
After it had been raining for the better part of the day on Monday, I saw a possible window of clear skies for a walk. I checked the weather on the end all-be all of knowledge: my iphone = 30% chance. You know what that means, right? 70% chance of NO rain. "Bring it. We'll totally make it back in time," I thought. Besides, I hadn't gotten a work out in that day, and I was more than ready to move and get outside by any means possible.
As I bundled up Charlie girl, and threw her in the jogger, Cosette rolled out her bike, and Abby laced up her shoes. "Let's go!" I said, and we headed out.
As we walked side by side, Abby asked, "Mom, what's your favorite holiday?" about a mile from home. Cozy shouted out, "I love THANKSGIVING because we get to EAT!!" as she navigated her bike between puddles. "Oh Gosh babe, I'm not sure," I answered, tired from the day, and not really wanting to think. So I turned to her and said, "What's your favorite?" What she said, still amazes me. "Well, I love Christmas, Thanksgiving, and Easter. But I really love the parent days, like Mother's Day and Father's Day. Because that's when I really get to see you and dad happy." Oh my. I didn't expect my daughter to say that. I was stunned. Perspective is an amazing thing, isn't it?
It's funny how my perspective has changed over time. Cause see, for those of you that don't already know, my Mama was diagnosed with Stage 3 Lung Cancer a little over a month ago. That kind of news puts your shit in perspective, man.
Tom's work truck, which was parked on the street, got totaled by a hit and run driver. When we found out, we both sort of had the same reaction. "BFD." Like, my Mom... she has CANCER. Nothing is more important than the people in your life that you love.
When I found out that my mom was having a biopsy, I did what any daughter would do: waited out traffic, got in my car, and drove up to my folks house, un-announced, and un-invited. Quite honestly, I didn't know what their reaction was going to be, so I waited to call them...til I was basically standing outside the front door.
"You're WHERE? Oh Michelle, we don't even have any information right now. It's just a biopsy," Foxy explained, trying not to worry me. "Well, that's okay Mom. Because The Love Train is coming. And I can guarantee that you will be spending more one-on-one time with my brothers and I, than you ever dreamed possible. Mom, this is how I'm choosing to love you today. Take my love, and run with it."
That was Tuesday. Wednesday she had the biopsy. Thursday we found out it was cancer. I stayed for a week. How could I leave?
In just a month and a half, the world, as I know it, has changed dramatically. Foxy has a tumor that is growing in her right lung; it's bigger than a golf ball, but smaller than a tennis ball. Although the cancer has not spread to her brain, it has traveled to a lymph node in the center of her chest, that just happens to be located next to her windpipe. And so the treatment plan looks like this: 2 rounds of Chemo, 3 weeks apart to shrink that GD tumor, and eradicate the cancer that has spread. After another PET Scan, we faithfully pray that Foxy can then undergo surgery to remove the tumor. If the Chemo fails to do anything, it doesn't make sense to operate. But we don't go THERE!
The most difficult times for me, was knowing when my mom was in pain. I grieved the nights when she slept fitfully, changing positions constantly throughout the night, trying to ease the pressure of that stupid tumor. The day of the Pet Scan, when she had to be absolutely still, and they couldn't give her anything to ease the discomfort. And the MRI....torture. I have never felt so utterly helpless and useless at the same time.
But do you want to hear something crazy? During most of this difficult time, I have felt oddly peaceful. I can only attest this calm to one thing: God's love.
Maybe you haven't felt God's love recently, or you feel as though he has forgotten you. Or maybe you have just never been taught who he is, and are a bit skeptical, but a little bit curious. I'm standing beside you today, to say GOD's love for us is REAL.
Have you ever been outside somewhere, and felt teeny tiny? Seen something and it absolutely takes your breath away? Met someone, and felt lighter just being with them? That's when we say, "Man, there is something bigger than me that is responsible for this greatness". No matter if you call it a him or a her. No matter if you're Christian or Jewish. No matter if you believe in Buddha or Jesus. No matter if you don't have a name for it at all.
God's love is unconditional and real. And it is the ONLY thing that gives me comfort when my world is spinning out of control. So I've learned to be still, shut up, and listen to the whispers that come to me, as God's guidance and direction. And one of those voices told me to pack differently for my second trip.
My second visit was more planned out, prior to Mom's first Chemo treatment. And I was fully prepared with the following: 2 changes of clothes, work out clothes, toiletry bag, smutty magazines, and pot brownies Hey man, don't knock it, til your mom has pain and has been diagnosed with Cancer. Besides, chances are, if you're reading my blog, you've tried dope. And if you haven't, you really should....responsibly!
Respectfully, Mom and Dad wanted to get the "okay" from the doctors to use THC to ease the nausea, aide with pain, increase her appetite, and help Foxy induce sweet slumber. And I am here to tell you this: when I arrived, mom was taking 4 pain pills per day. Fast forward 2 weeks, and she's off all pain meds.
She's high as a kite, but who can blame her? JUST KIDDING, MOM!!! In fact, I told her before I left, "Mom, if you're thinking about applying for a new job right now, don't expect to pass the drug test." She laughed. My mom who has NEVER done any drug in her life. My mom who has a glass of wine when she's feeling "crazy". My mom who is going to kick Cancer's ass...
This is what I know: nothing is promised. Each moment we have is a gift. I'm blessed beyond words with my family and friends. I love the time that Foxy and I have spent together. And I look forward to styling her wig, rubbing her achy feet, and possibly sharing a brownie or two.
By the way, for those of you who are interested, I will be organizing a "Foxy Trot" walk in the near future. I was thinking all finishers should receive a brownie. Who's game?
Thursday, January 19, 2012
I Hate Having My Eyes Dilated...and Other Things.
After an undisclosed amount of time since my last eye visit (4 years), I successfully made an appointment for the Optometrist. (applause) Next, I actually went to the appointment! (more applause) The appointment ended with me getting my eyes dilated (BOO...HISS), and weaving out of the parking lot, looking much like Stevie Wonder.
So I met with Dr."Personality of a Chair" in the Optometry Department at Kaiser, Santa Theresa, yesterday. But not before having this epiphany at school 20 minutes prior to my appointment: children and my vision needs would most likely, NOT mesh well together. Why I didn't think of this like, yesterday, I have no idea. So I did what any ill-prepared mom in my position would: farmed them out to my amazing friends.
Because there is this unspoken thing that happens when moms go to our "appointments". We LIVE for the 5 minutes where we get to read Family Circle magazine in the waiting room. This, in and of itself, is like a mini-vacation. We sit, resting, idle, caught up in the latest Mac and Cheese recipe that PROMISES our kids WILL devour this meal, that (GASP) even has VEGETABLES hidden in it.
We sit, gathering our thoughts, with NO ONE needing us, or pulling on our coat strings. We sit, waiting patiently for our name to be called. All the while, we mindlessly flip though a magazine that MY MOM, and all the MOMS of my AMAZING friends used to subscribe to. A magazine that was clutched by another worn out and exhausted mom, probably just minutes before hearing her name.
See...that's the part where the mini-vacation ends. Our name is called, and one of the following ensues: getting drilled on at the dentist, having our cervix prodded with a speculum, or feeling like we may go blind from the stinging drops that go into our eyes before they are dilated.
Dr. Personality of a Chair: "Michelle Walsh?"
Me: "Yes, that's me."
Dr P.O.A.Chair: "Come right back here," he said, shuffling slowly, with no hint of excitement, whatsoever about me being there. "Have a seat, put your chin here. Look at the hot air balloon in the picture."
I followed directions, knowing full well, that Kaiser docs like to stay on a SCHEDULE. Code for: next patient is in 15 minutes. No problem, I thought. I appreciate the "in and out" mentality most days.
Dr.Shuffle Shuffle: "Look at the green-yellow light..." I stared, and before I knew what hit me, a puff of air hit my left eye like a ton of bricks. I wanted to yell out, "Well, God Damn Dr.Shuffle, you could have warned me!"
But see, I was ready for the other eye. In fact, I was so ready, I kept blinking, anticipating the horror of the air puff. He waited patiently, until I could blink no longer...PUFF.
I started to remember why I hadn't been to the eye doctor in a really long time.
Dr. Air Puff: "Stand up, and make your fist left into the room. Sit down, cover your left eye and tell me how low can you go?" I almost started singing "how low can you go?," but saw Dr.Chair meant business, when he turned out the lights, pointing to the eye chart.
For most folks, this would be no biggie, right? But my left eye is my lazy eye, and I feel BLIND when I cover it. If it gives you any indication of how much it sucks having lazy eye as a kid, I wore a patch for, well, far too long. As if I wasn't a big eough DORK wearing glasses. I also donned a patch. That, my friends, is a vision of loveliness. There...I admitted it. Now we're BFF's.
I was yearning to make a real-live human connection with this man. It appeared he hadn't laughed, much less smiled, in YEARS. I would be the one to make him laugh or smile! It was my mission while in his care. It's ON Dr.Serious Shuffle, I thought to myself.
Dr.Air Puff: "What's better, 1 or 2?" he asked, clicking the ginormous eye machine that was placed over my face.
Me: "1,"
Dr. 1 or 2: "This one or that one."
Me: "this one," And on it went like this for awhile. I made sure to really focus, so that God Forbid, Dr. Air Puff wouldn't have to ask me twice. I was not seeing ample opportunity to make this man smile in the near future.
Dr.Dread: "I see here that you haven't been to have your eyes checked in 4 years. When was the last time you had your eyes dilated?"
Me: "Um, well, I really hate having my eyes dilated. Do we REALLY have to do that today? I need to drive home, and..." grasping for straws.
Dr. Evil: "Lean back, this is going to sting a little."
WTF? Now I KNOW why I haven't been here in 4 years.
Dr.Burn in Hell:"You will lose reading vision. I will call you back in shortly."
I pulled out my iphone, and thought, this game isn't over, Dr.Psycho. You may have successfully put those damn drops in my eyes, but I am going to play Words With Friends, Mother Trucker.
By the time, I pulled the phone out of my purse, I couldn't even read the screen. I picked up Family Circle. I think there was a hand make crocheted afghan on the cover, but can't be sure. The rest is a blur. I couldn't even take advantage of picking out new glasses with no kids, because I could no longer SEE anything. I stumbled out of the building, stunned, blinded, and somewhat pissed off. But at least I checked the eye appointment off the list, right?
BTW, you will be happy to know, I show no signs of Glaucoma.
So I met with Dr."Personality of a Chair" in the Optometry Department at Kaiser, Santa Theresa, yesterday. But not before having this epiphany at school 20 minutes prior to my appointment: children and my vision needs would most likely, NOT mesh well together. Why I didn't think of this like, yesterday, I have no idea. So I did what any ill-prepared mom in my position would: farmed them out to my amazing friends.
Because there is this unspoken thing that happens when moms go to our "appointments". We LIVE for the 5 minutes where we get to read Family Circle magazine in the waiting room. This, in and of itself, is like a mini-vacation. We sit, resting, idle, caught up in the latest Mac and Cheese recipe that PROMISES our kids WILL devour this meal, that (GASP) even has VEGETABLES hidden in it.
We sit, gathering our thoughts, with NO ONE needing us, or pulling on our coat strings. We sit, waiting patiently for our name to be called. All the while, we mindlessly flip though a magazine that MY MOM, and all the MOMS of my AMAZING friends used to subscribe to. A magazine that was clutched by another worn out and exhausted mom, probably just minutes before hearing her name.
See...that's the part where the mini-vacation ends. Our name is called, and one of the following ensues: getting drilled on at the dentist, having our cervix prodded with a speculum, or feeling like we may go blind from the stinging drops that go into our eyes before they are dilated.
Dr. Personality of a Chair: "Michelle Walsh?"
Me: "Yes, that's me."
Dr P.O.A.Chair: "Come right back here," he said, shuffling slowly, with no hint of excitement, whatsoever about me being there. "Have a seat, put your chin here. Look at the hot air balloon in the picture."
I followed directions, knowing full well, that Kaiser docs like to stay on a SCHEDULE. Code for: next patient is in 15 minutes. No problem, I thought. I appreciate the "in and out" mentality most days.
Dr.Shuffle Shuffle: "Look at the green-yellow light..." I stared, and before I knew what hit me, a puff of air hit my left eye like a ton of bricks. I wanted to yell out, "Well, God Damn Dr.Shuffle, you could have warned me!"
But see, I was ready for the other eye. In fact, I was so ready, I kept blinking, anticipating the horror of the air puff. He waited patiently, until I could blink no longer...PUFF.
I started to remember why I hadn't been to the eye doctor in a really long time.
Dr. Air Puff: "Stand up, and make your fist left into the room. Sit down, cover your left eye and tell me how low can you go?" I almost started singing "how low can you go?," but saw Dr.Chair meant business, when he turned out the lights, pointing to the eye chart.
For most folks, this would be no biggie, right? But my left eye is my lazy eye, and I feel BLIND when I cover it. If it gives you any indication of how much it sucks having lazy eye as a kid, I wore a patch for, well, far too long. As if I wasn't a big eough DORK wearing glasses. I also donned a patch. That, my friends, is a vision of loveliness. There...I admitted it. Now we're BFF's.
I was yearning to make a real-live human connection with this man. It appeared he hadn't laughed, much less smiled, in YEARS. I would be the one to make him laugh or smile! It was my mission while in his care. It's ON Dr.Serious Shuffle, I thought to myself.
Dr.Air Puff: "What's better, 1 or 2?" he asked, clicking the ginormous eye machine that was placed over my face.
Me: "1,"
Dr. 1 or 2: "This one or that one."
Me: "this one," And on it went like this for awhile. I made sure to really focus, so that God Forbid, Dr. Air Puff wouldn't have to ask me twice. I was not seeing ample opportunity to make this man smile in the near future.
Dr.Dread: "I see here that you haven't been to have your eyes checked in 4 years. When was the last time you had your eyes dilated?"
Me: "Um, well, I really hate having my eyes dilated. Do we REALLY have to do that today? I need to drive home, and..." grasping for straws.
Dr. Evil: "Lean back, this is going to sting a little."
WTF? Now I KNOW why I haven't been here in 4 years.
Dr.Burn in Hell:"You will lose reading vision. I will call you back in shortly."
I pulled out my iphone, and thought, this game isn't over, Dr.Psycho. You may have successfully put those damn drops in my eyes, but I am going to play Words With Friends, Mother Trucker.
By the time, I pulled the phone out of my purse, I couldn't even read the screen. I picked up Family Circle. I think there was a hand make crocheted afghan on the cover, but can't be sure. The rest is a blur. I couldn't even take advantage of picking out new glasses with no kids, because I could no longer SEE anything. I stumbled out of the building, stunned, blinded, and somewhat pissed off. But at least I checked the eye appointment off the list, right?
BTW, you will be happy to know, I show no signs of Glaucoma.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)