One Year Now vs One Year Then

I recently celebrated(?) my one year anniversary at my ‘new’ job.

When I reached my one year anniversary at my last job, eighteen years ago, I took in cupcakes for everyone to share in my ‘big’ day.

Ha.

Hahahahahahaha.

My thirty year old self amuses me so much.

I was such a sweet girl with so very much time on my hands.

Let’s remember that back in those days, I was not only working forty hours at the job to which I took the cupcakes, I was also working about sixteen hours at the local newspaper as a proof-reader/sort-of-reporter.

Those were fun days.

But these days are fun too; just a different kind of fun.

Do I have to tell you that I did NOT bake cupcakes and take them to work on the first anniversary of my start date?

Well, if I do need to say it, let me say: I did NOT bake cupcakes and take them to work.

I didn’t have time.

Okay, so I could have made time. Cupcakes aren’t that difficult to make. But I had different things to do, things that took priority over sharing cupcakes with my ‘new’ coworkers.

The night before my anniversary, the girls’ school held its open house. Students and parents were invited to come and bring school supplies, get schedules, locker assignments and combinations, meet teachers, see classrooms, get bus schedules, etc. So much fun! Olivia whispered to me the entire time we were at the school. It’s what she does.

Alyssa put her notebooks and folders in her locker, got a job application for the Arby’s that is going in about three miles from our house and said hi to a few friends.

The Sunday before that, another day I could have baked cupcakes, the girls and I went to see a movie as a last ditch effort to wring the most out of a summer that is ending much too quickly.

We saw…get ready for it…the live action movie Dora the Explorer.

And get this, it was freaking adorable. Seriously. Sure, there were moments of sheer stupidity but it was seriously so much fun.

And best new yet? Olivia liked it so much that when she had to pee, she didn’t want to leave the movie. We did end up using the bathroom near the end but this is SUCH an improvement from when she has had to use the bathroom five times during a movie because she’s bored.

So yeah.

Life has changed for me a little bit since 2001. And I’m more than okay with that. That girl back in 2001 was lonely. She wouldn’t have admitted it for anything but she was lost and lonely and trying to figure out where she fit in the world.

Today? Honestly, I could use a little loneliness.

But seriously, I am so lucky to be where I am, in this moment in time. I’m lucky to have to try and find time to bake cupcakes…or not.

Here’s to more years with the ‘new’ job and many, many more years taking care of and loving my family.

Three?

When I got home from work one day last week, we had about an hour before we had to go to the football field and ‘meet the teams’. More on ‘meet the teams’ below.

During the hour between getting home and leaving to meet the teams, I started a load of laundry and made Olivia change her shirt because the one she’d been wearing had Spaghetti-O stains on it. Apparently, she STILL doesn’t really understand that napkins are for wiping mouths as well as hands.

Sigh.

I also brushed her hair because it had probably been three days since she’d had her hair brushed because it’s summer and no one else seems to think daily hair brushing is necessary. Ahem. After brushing the mess, I braided it because, well, she asked me to.

So…meet the teams…yeah, it’s as fun as you can imagine. The high school and junior high football teams, cross country teams, cheerleaders, marching band, golf team and volleyball teams were there.

The stands were actually pretty full. The parking lot was VERY full. We left with two minutes to spare because Tom had declared earlier in the evening that there wasn’t going to be any problems with parking. He was WRONG.

We perched on the bleachers in the front row and before the dude announcing the athletes even started Olivia asked, “When are we gonna leave?”

I rolled my eyes and whispered to her, “This is your own personal hell, isn’t it?”

She giggled at my use of the word ‘hell.’

Then she asked me again when we could leave.

We met all the teams, the marching band (the whole reason we were there, hi Lyss!!) played three songs.

Then, and only then, was it time to leave.

But because we’re MEAN parents, Tom and I stayed with Olivia in the bleachers and waited for the traffic jam taking place in the parking lot to let up before we finally left.

When we got home, it was about 7:15 but Liv needed dinner. So that happened.

Finally, it was 9:15 and time for bed. Yes, I’m old.

Olivia and I went about our routine and I noticed that the shirt she’d had on for THREE hours was filthy.

I asked her, “What are you, three?”

She laughed and looked down at herself, finding the mashed potatoes she’d dropped down her shirt and into her bra hilarious.

For the rest of the evening (our bedtime routine can sometimes take an hour, thanks 5p- syndrome) she quoted me, saying with a laugh, “What are you, three?”

She probably laughed over that one sentence at least five times.

It’s a good thing her feelings aren’t easily hurt, because damn, sometimes, I’m a really insensitive mother.

Argumentative

This just in: Tom is wearing T-shirts!!

Why is this big news? Well, let me tell you! Back when he broke himself, he started wearing button up shirts because he couldn’t lift his arm high enough to put T-shirts on. He declared the day after he was broken that we’d know he was feeling better when he started wearing T-shirts again.

For the record, it only took nine weeks for him to start wearing T-shirts.

This morning, he was awake before I was, which, again, is a sign that he’s feeling better. For the past nine weeks he’s woken up as I’m walking out the door to go to work.

Anyway! He was awake because he needed to pack a 50 pound item that had sold on his eBay page. While he was broken, he had put his page on ‘vacation’. So having to pack means he’s back in business. Whew!

I asked him if he’d started packing even though there was no sign of packing.

He said that once I’d left, he’d sweep the kitchen floor and start packing.

See, apparently, he doesn’t like to pack on a dirty floor. Okay. Whatever. I’m just glad the floor gets swept by someone other than me once in a while.

While he was talking about the filth in which we life, he said that he doesn’t like to pack his items on the carpeted floor of the family room because of the hair.

I laughed and said something about our long-haired daughters.

He said that sometimes he found hairs about six inches long too.

I told him that even those couldn’t be mine because, hello, my hair is maybe four inches long.

He proceeded to argue with me about how long my hair is. He pulled up a few strands and used his hand to measure them.

Whatever. My hair is not six inches long yet. I wish it was that long. I can’t wait until it is; but it’s not there yet.

He finally let it go, realizing I wasn’t going to agree that my hair is as long as he was insisting it was.

A few minutes later, he suggested that something that had happened with Olivia the day before might mean that she was about to start her period.

I said it could be but it seemed like she’d just had it a couple of weeks before.

He was sure it had been at least three weeks, perhaps four.

I shrugged, muttering something about how since I took care of her during these times I might know a little better than he did about when it happened.

He laughed and declared that I was being really argumentative.

“No, I’m not.” I argued, “I’m just explaining to you how I’m right and you’re wrong.”

Then I kissed him and left for work because that’s just how we do things around here.

Sweet Revenge

Remember that time I took Alyssa for her first HPV vaccination? That was the time we went in expecting her to get one shot and she left having gotten five.

Yeah, she was not very happy with me that day.

What can I say? I want her to grow up and be able to complain about me to her therapist.

She took much glee in the fact that I went to the dentist for two fillings and left with three. I think it even amused her that while sure, her five shots hurt for a bit, the real pain of them went away pretty quickly while the pain in my mouth lasted more than twenty four hours.

I do believe she feels like we might just be even.

That’s a load off my mind, let me tell you.

Two Years

Around this time two years ago, the employees in the plant where I worked were assembled and informed that Corporate was closing our facility. We were told that by December 31, we would all be out of a job. They told us that we’d receive a ‘stay bonus’ if we continued to work until December 31. We’d get a severance package whether we stayed or not. That would include a week’s worth of pay for every year of service we had with the company.

I’d sensed the coming of this announcement. There were just too many meetings taking place behind closed doors, super stealth whispering going on, weird phone called with doors being closed.

I was also a little preoccupied by the pain in my left breast. I’d seen my regular doctor by this point two years ago and he was all about waiting and seeing.

I was also seeing a doctor about my stupid left foot. I’d been diagnosed with tendonitis and plantar fasciitis. Whee, my left side is a real disaster zone.

I’d just recently decided that waiting and seeing about that weird pain was a bad idea. I hadn’t actually seen my gynecologist yet but I was psyching myself up to make the call. Each night, I’d promise myself that if the pain was still there the next morning, I’d call.

We all know that I did finally call.

I’m edging in on my one year anniversary at my new/current job. It’s fine. I’ve had a couple of good reviews with my immediate supervisor as well as the lady with whom I work the most closely. So…that’s good, right? I don’t want to be stupid and say something like, “Yeah, it’s going great!” because yeah, we all know the universe is just waiting to slap people who say things like that right the hell down.

I just…keep waiting for the next thing to happen.

I mean, right? Isn’t that the way things have been for a while?

Every time management closes a door, I think, “Here it comes.”

Each time I have an appointment with a doctor, I wonder, “Will this be the time the give me bad news again?”

I know, logically, that the odds of that happening are slim. But…the odds of getting triple negative breast cancer at 46 years old were slim too. So forgive me for feeling a little stressed sometimes.

For anyone googling post-cancer life, I’d like to mention that the side effects of chemo and radiation are mostly gone. Last summer I could feel the rays of the sun on my skin, like little pin pricks all over any exposed skin. This summer, nothing. It’s all good. I don’t seem to burn any more easily than I did before radiation.

At my most recent dental cleaning, my hygienist said that my dry mouth is abating. It’s still there, but getting better. I’d noticed that too. My skin has bounced back.

Hair still doesn’t grow under my left arm, but I’m most certainly not complaining about that one.

Heck, even the lymphedema is responding well to the exercise and self-massage prescribed by the physical therapist. So really life is going well.

Hey, universe? Please don’t see that last sentence as an invitation to punch me in the face, kay? I know how lucky I am. I say thanks every single day for everything that I have, everything that I am. I know it could all be snatched from me in an instant. And maybe that’s what I’m so tentative to believe that all’s well.

Because what if tomorrow it’s not?

Hop, Skip, and a Jump

So let’s talk about tics. Not ticks, as in the nasty blood sucking bugs that like to attach themselves to you. Eww.

No.

Let’s talk about tics as in, twitches, habits, blinks, hops, etc.

Olivia has…a few.

Yeah. Let’s go with that.

Some of them are mildly annoying.

Others are downright destructive.

She has to hop and click her teeth together before she sits down at the kitchen table. Then, once she perches on her chair, she has to do a quick circle before she can sit down.

Yes, it’s as exasperating as it sounds. But it’s basically harmless.

When she wants to sit down in the living room, she does the hop and the click, she snaps her knees together (hard enough that the insides of her knees are currently bruised) then she hops again and throws herself back in to the chair. She has, over the summer, claimed the recliner as her own. So that’s where she’s throwing herself each time she sits down. She’s breaking down the chair, is what I’m saying.

She’s already destroyed the foundation of the couch by bouncing onto it each time she sits.

It’s beyond frustrating.

These days, as she’d doing her hop, click, spin, snap but before she can bounce into the chair, I’ll shout in a cockney accent, “Sit like a lady!!”

It interrupts her entire routine and she usually has to start over. But she does because she’s a persistent little monster. And then, again just before the bounce, because I’m an even more persistent and bigger monster, I shriek, “Sit like a lady!!”

By this point, she’s often in the air, her body on a trajectory toward the back of the chair, where she’ll bounce and rock and break the chair a tiny bit more each time she sits down.

I realize that she probably can’t help it. But come on!! She stopped sucking her thumb and pulling her hair out when she was four years old. She’s twelve now, surely she can use some of that stubbornness to NOT do some of these things.

The hand-flapping; I don’t care. She does it when she’s stressed. It centers her. I get it.

Hell, I was a hand-flapper when I was twelve and it drove my mom insane. Each time I’d start to flap my hands anywhere near my mom, she’d tell me sternly, “Stop shaking your hands.”

And I did. Whenever I’d feel the urge to shake my hands, I’d put them in my back pockets.

But honestly, if Liv needs to flap her hands to get through stressful situations, flap away, baby. Though, the whole flapping while her hands are dripping with water is kind of annoying too.

But please stop destroying my furniture. Please. After that happens, we’ll work on using a towel to dry hands rather than the flapping of water in all directions method she currently prefers.

One tic at a time, it’s all I have it in me to address.

Filtered

There was recently a filter on Snapchat that made a person’s eyes huge, their mouth small, their nose basically non-existent, you get the gist. Pretty standard for Snapchat filters.

Except this one make it look like the person was crying.

I loved it.

It lasted one day.

I took several pictures with it.

One picture was just before I went in to have my teeth filled.

I loved how the picture captured how I really felt without me actually having to cry.

I know that’s weird.

Alyssa said the picture I sent her using that filter made her sad.

Well, uh, I think that was the point.

See, I’m kind of sad this week.

But I don’t usually cry about my sadness.

I almost cried the evening after my fillings were put in. The numbness wore off and my teeth hurt. There was a constant low-level ache but there were also these shooting pains through my teeth where they’d been filled. It was most unpleasant, I must say.

The areas where I’d been given shots of anesthesia also hurt.

The next day, the pangs of pain were gone, but the ache was still there.

I needed that crying filter again.

Alas, it was gone.

I might just have to cry over that. Maybe I’ll manage to get a picture.

Sad

Who the hell knows?

Maybe it’s because of the dentist.

Maybe it’s because school starts in less than two weeks and it feels like summer has flown by.

Maybe I wish I were independently wealthy so that I could not have to go to work every day.

Maybe making dinner every night makes me sad. Yes, that’s definitely true. I hate making dinner so, so much.

I do know that I’m sick and tired of all the last effects of cancer and the things I had to go through to get rid of the cancer: lymphedema, dry mouth, cavities; curly hair, etc.

I’m so tired.

Tired of thinking about cancer and chemotherapy and radiation. I’m tired of lymphedema and bad teeth. I’m tired of the fact that my stupid mouth still sometimes is dry and at other times, it feels like I’ve just eaten a hot pepper. It’s so unpleasant.

But hey, I’m alive to be bitchy about it all, right? So why the frowny face?

Because I can acknowledge my luckiness and still be annoyed by the suckiness, that’s why.

Just saying.

Open Wide

I had a dental cleaning last week. My teeth are, well, they’re fine, except when they’re not.

I was told at the cleaning that I needed fillings in two bottom teeth. The teeth are next to each other, the cavities were actually touching each other.

I know, gross.

I have a long history with bad teeth. My baby teeth were pretty much rotting out of my head. I blame uninformed parents who put Pepsi in my bottle when I was a baby. Again, GROSS!

My adult teeth aren’t quite that bad but I do confess that from about 16 until my mid-twenties, I did not see a dentist…ever.

When I was thirteen and a dentist told my dad that if he wanted me to be ‘pretty’ he could pay for braces but that would be the only reason to recommend orthodontic care at that point.

Do I need to tell you that my dad did not think I needed to be pretty?

But I digress.

When I started working in Chicago, my job offered excellent dental insurance and so I schlumped into a dentist’s office, all ashamed that I hadn’t had so much as a cleaning in about ten years. (Side note: I miss that excellent dental insurance. I no longer have dental insurance at all. The company for which I work will reimburse any employee who has company sponsored insurance up to $1000 a year for cleanings and work. That’s $1000 for the entire family, by the way. Guess who has already maxed out that little reimbursement plan?)

The dentist in Chicago was lovely. She was so kind and gentle and told me that shame was not necessary, that the last ten years no longer mattered because I was there and ready to get my teeth into shape.

It took some work, let me tell you. Several fillings and a crown later and I was referred to an orthodontist because apparently, orthodontic care is not just cosmetic. My teeth were so screwed up that I wasn’t keeping the backs of my top teeth clean with mere brushing.

Braces fixed that and my bite and here we are. I am proud to say that I haven’t missed a cleaning in all the years since I first started seeing my lovely dentists in Chicago. Yes, I still consider her MY dentist even though I haven’t seen her in almost twenty year.

When you start chemotherapy, they tell you that dry mouth might be a side effect. But they don’t tell you that cavities are a side effect of the dry mouth.

In the seventeen months since I finished chemo, I’ve had to get eight cavities filled.

EIGHT.

The first five, six months ago, were on the backs of three of my top front teeth. Yikes.

So I went in about five days after the cleaning to have those two cavities filled and hey, what do you know? The dentist, who wasn’t at the cleaning (he’d brought in a substitute dentist) last week, had come back and reviewed my x-rays and decided that not only did I need the cavities on the bottom left teeth filled but would you look at that, I needed a filling on a tooth on the top left too.

Whee!!! Let the games begin.

I hate fillings.

Who doesn’t, right?

I’m grown up, though. I can usually get through just about anything unpleasant because I can tell myself that it isn’t going to last forever.

This time, though, after the topical numbing and the shots, the dentist settled in with his drill and nope, I was still feeling that. Could we do something about the sensation of pain? That’d be great.

So he gave me another shot on the bottom and then started in on the top.

I clenched my fists and repeated silently, “It won’t last forever. It can’t last forever.”

I think tears actually trickled out the corners of my eyes.

At one point, the dentist took a little break from the drilling and grinding and pushing in my mouth and I was able to breath for a minute. My heart was racing and I was shaking.

I’ve never had that reaction before. It was awful.

I did get myself under control without having to leave the chair or even sit up but damn.

I feel for those who have panic attacks because this was a terrible feeling.

They finished up and I was released from the chair.

I got back to work about 12:30 and by 3:30, the bottom left of my mouth was still numb. But that Mexican pizza I got from Taco Bell at 12:25 was still delicious when I stuffed it in my numb face at 3:35, just managing to avoid chomping down on the inside of my left cheek.

My next cleaning is in February. Let’s see how many fillings I’ll need then. On the bright side, the $1000 reimbursement plan will have started over by then. Wonder how fast I can go through it in 2020.