These last few weeks have felt like months.
I know someday I’ll miss these busy evenings with school things calling my name and taking me away from hearth and home.
But right now, I could use a little boredom.
I don’t know how those with multiple kids in several sports and extracurricular activities do it. I just have the one interactive kid and I’m tired.
SO TIRED.
One Wednesday evening in the recent busy weeks, I was sitting on the couch at about 8:15 (I know, SO BUSY, but in my defense I hadn’t gotten home until 7 that evening and still had to pack my lunch, eat my dinner AND give Olivia a bath, so give me a flipping break.) I glanced up from my phone because of course it was in my hand.
I looked at Alyssa on the other end of the couch and Olivia on the floor with her tablet. I am so lucky, so blessed.
Anyway, I wasn’t feeling all that lucky in that moment.
I sighed and said, “This week is taking forever and it’s only Wednesday. Daaaamn.”
Olivia laughed. She laughed and laughed and then she said, “Daaaamn.”
Alyssa looked up from her phone (we’re a screen family, what of it?) and said, “Huh? So we’re that kind of family now?”
I give her a moment but when she didn’t drop the F bomb or say anything else at all, I laughed and told her, “Nah, we’re just all really tired and ready for football and prom to be OVER.”
For what it’s worth, prom isn’t until next May…it’s going to be a long year.
Feel free to remind me of that when I’m lamenting about how fast the teenage/high school years fly by.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
Friday, October 11, 2019
Thursday, October 10, 2019
This Side of Radiation
I’ve had two doctors (not my radiation oncologist) tell me that radiation changes everything.
When I suggested to my family doctor recently that radiation ‘cooked’ the tissues of Leftie, he agreed that essentially, that’s what happened.
So we can’t rely on fingers to feel for problems there anymore.
The ‘cooked’ tissue is denser than the tissue on the right, which hasn’t been cooked. The outer layer of skin is tougher too, as if it’s been permanently tanned.
It’s frustrating because all of this, along with the lymphedema make me feel like there’s always a problem lurking, or, if there IS a problem, I won’t be able to tell because all I can feel is the damaged wrought by the radiation, which is ironic since the radiation was applied in order to save my life.
It’s a vicious cycle.
The solution, for now, is to have a mammogram before it’s actually due. I’m due for one in November.
My doctor ordered one for as soon as I want to schedule it. He agreed that we just can’t trust my fingers or his to feel for any problems that are beyond the radiation damage and the lymphedema.
Which basically means I need to stop poking at myself in the night when I can’t sleep because something hurts or feels swollen or just feels ‘weird.’
My doctor was kind at this last appointment. He reminded me that I’m allowed to feel sad about what I’ve been through. Even though we lost Amy and I am grateful just to still be here, I’ve lost something too and I can grieve that without guilt.
Easy for him to say, right? But it was nice to hear.
When I suggested to my family doctor recently that radiation ‘cooked’ the tissues of Leftie, he agreed that essentially, that’s what happened.
So we can’t rely on fingers to feel for problems there anymore.
The ‘cooked’ tissue is denser than the tissue on the right, which hasn’t been cooked. The outer layer of skin is tougher too, as if it’s been permanently tanned.
It’s frustrating because all of this, along with the lymphedema make me feel like there’s always a problem lurking, or, if there IS a problem, I won’t be able to tell because all I can feel is the damaged wrought by the radiation, which is ironic since the radiation was applied in order to save my life.
It’s a vicious cycle.
The solution, for now, is to have a mammogram before it’s actually due. I’m due for one in November.
My doctor ordered one for as soon as I want to schedule it. He agreed that we just can’t trust my fingers or his to feel for any problems that are beyond the radiation damage and the lymphedema.
Which basically means I need to stop poking at myself in the night when I can’t sleep because something hurts or feels swollen or just feels ‘weird.’
My doctor was kind at this last appointment. He reminded me that I’m allowed to feel sad about what I’ve been through. Even though we lost Amy and I am grateful just to still be here, I’ve lost something too and I can grieve that without guilt.
Easy for him to say, right? But it was nice to hear.
Wednesday, October 9, 2019
Idiot's Guide to Dyeing Fabric
-Get the fabric from your mom.
-Cut it out according to the pattern for a circle skirt.
-Buy blue Rit dye.
-Take fabric and dye to the basement where the washing machine is located.
-Go back upstairs to get reading glasses because the directions on the back of the Rit dye bottle are microscopic and you’re old.
-Once back in the basement, put on glasses to read instructions that say, “If using washing machine method, go to ritdye.com/washingmachine
-Swear like a sailor as you go BACK upstairs to get your phone so you can go to the website indicated on the bottle of Rit dye.
-Take phone down to basement, use phone to go to website. Read first step: Wet fabric…
-Take fabric back upstairs to wet it in the kitchen sink since you don’t have a sink in your basement laundry room and your washer is a front loader so you can’t just start running the water into the tub of the washer while the door is unlocked. Son of a bitch.
-Tromp back down to basement with now-wet fabric.
-Read next step on website: Wearing gloves, mix dye in four cups of VERY hot water.
-Take bottle of dye, phone, AND glasses back upstairs to kitchen where you start 4 cups of water heating on the stove. At this point, after eleventy billion trips up and down those mf-ing stairs, you decide to read ALL the steps of the directions before you take one more step up or down those stairs.
-Once the four cups of water are VERY hot, you take the pan with the water/dye mix, another container of VERY hot water (four cups again), your glasses and your phone BACK down to the washing machine where you start a wash cycle, adding a soak cycle to the process.
-Once the wash cycle has started, you dump the water/dye mixture into the detergent dispenser and then the VERY hot water, which serves as a rinsing agent for the detergent cup and…you hope for the best as the machine does its thing.
-After the fabric has been dyed, you run a load of towels in an effort to clean all the blue dye out of your washer.
And that’s that. Unless you’re way smarter than I am and read your directions first so you can save yourself fifty bazillion trips up and down the stairs.
No wonder my left knee hurt for a week after this incident.
-Cut it out according to the pattern for a circle skirt.
-Buy blue Rit dye.
-Take fabric and dye to the basement where the washing machine is located.
-Go back upstairs to get reading glasses because the directions on the back of the Rit dye bottle are microscopic and you’re old.
-Once back in the basement, put on glasses to read instructions that say, “If using washing machine method, go to ritdye.com/washingmachine
-Swear like a sailor as you go BACK upstairs to get your phone so you can go to the website indicated on the bottle of Rit dye.
-Take phone down to basement, use phone to go to website. Read first step: Wet fabric…
-Take fabric back upstairs to wet it in the kitchen sink since you don’t have a sink in your basement laundry room and your washer is a front loader so you can’t just start running the water into the tub of the washer while the door is unlocked. Son of a bitch.
-Tromp back down to basement with now-wet fabric.
-Read next step on website: Wearing gloves, mix dye in four cups of VERY hot water.
-Take bottle of dye, phone, AND glasses back upstairs to kitchen where you start 4 cups of water heating on the stove. At this point, after eleventy billion trips up and down those mf-ing stairs, you decide to read ALL the steps of the directions before you take one more step up or down those stairs.
-Once the four cups of water are VERY hot, you take the pan with the water/dye mix, another container of VERY hot water (four cups again), your glasses and your phone BACK down to the washing machine where you start a wash cycle, adding a soak cycle to the process.
-Once the wash cycle has started, you dump the water/dye mixture into the detergent dispenser and then the VERY hot water, which serves as a rinsing agent for the detergent cup and…you hope for the best as the machine does its thing.
-After the fabric has been dyed, you run a load of towels in an effort to clean all the blue dye out of your washer.
And that’s that. Unless you’re way smarter than I am and read your directions first so you can save yourself fifty bazillion trips up and down the stairs.
No wonder my left knee hurt for a week after this incident.
Tuesday, October 8, 2019
Homecoming Spirit Week (Alternate Title: Kill Me Now)
Know what Homecoming week means? It means SPIRIT WEEK. Which, in turn, means work for Mom.
Because, duh.
The weekend before spirit week, we were trying to figure out what the girls would wear on each designated Spirit Day.
Monday was declared Royalty day.
Tuesday was Decade day.
Wednesday meant Class Color Day which meant red for Olivia and green for Alyssa.
Thursday brought us Farmer Day (we ARE in the middle of the corn fields and dairy farms, don’t you know?)
And Friday was good old Bomber Blue and Gray day.
So…there we were, at the Walmarts, trying to figure out Royalty Day and Decade Day.
I suggested that Alyssa dress as a ‘modern day’ royal. AKA How would Duchess Kate dress if she were heading to afternoon tea with the Queen?
We decided she’d wear a dress we’d bought the previous spring, it was royal (ha) blue with white polka dots. It was a nice, conservative length and had a cinched waist. It’s a lovely dress, which is why we bought it. She bought a small crown at Hobby Lobby that is attached to a hair comb.
She was set.
Olivia, on the other hand, was not set. I ended up making her a ‘deconstructed Elsa Dress’. Which means I bought a $4 long sleeved T-shirt to which I sewed sheer fabric on the back for a cape and another sheer, sparkly fabric to the front to reflect the sweetheart neckline of Elsa’s dress. She wore shorts that were the same blue and I braided her hair into an ‘Elsa braid.’
For Decade Day, I suggested I make the girls ‘circle’ skirts.
My mom told me that those kinds of skirts aren’t nearly as easy to make as I might think they are.
For what it’s worth, she’s right, though I don’t know that for sure since I didn’t make either skirt. My mom made both of them. Because she’s awesome and a lifesaver and my total hero.
But! I did dye the fabric that was used to make Alyssa’s skirt.
And that, my friend(s?) was a process unto itself. And quite honestly? It deserves its own post.
On Wednesday, Olivia wore a red t-shirt she borrowed from her sister. Thanks Lyss!! I braided O’s hair and used red hair ties and I polished her fingernails in a lovely sparkly red. Done and done.
Alyssa dressed herself in a lovely green T-shirt and a green hoodie. She’s quite the teenager, I must say.
Thursday, or Fucking FARMER day (gag), Olivia once again borrowed from her sister. This time it was a plaid shirt. She wore that with shorts she could wear to gym. I braided her hair into two braids down the side because, farmer girl, right?
Alyssa donned one of her own flannel shirts, a pair of jeans and cowboy boots. Cowboy and farmer are basically the same thing, right? Right.
Bomber Blue and Gray day, whee! Blue shirts with the school mascot (a bomber plane, duh) and jeans.
And then there was the game…which I attended because I’m a music booster mom. Can you even stand it?
Because, duh.
The weekend before spirit week, we were trying to figure out what the girls would wear on each designated Spirit Day.
Monday was declared Royalty day.
Tuesday was Decade day.
Wednesday meant Class Color Day which meant red for Olivia and green for Alyssa.
Thursday brought us Farmer Day (we ARE in the middle of the corn fields and dairy farms, don’t you know?)
And Friday was good old Bomber Blue and Gray day.
So…there we were, at the Walmarts, trying to figure out Royalty Day and Decade Day.
I suggested that Alyssa dress as a ‘modern day’ royal. AKA How would Duchess Kate dress if she were heading to afternoon tea with the Queen?
We decided she’d wear a dress we’d bought the previous spring, it was royal (ha) blue with white polka dots. It was a nice, conservative length and had a cinched waist. It’s a lovely dress, which is why we bought it. She bought a small crown at Hobby Lobby that is attached to a hair comb.
She was set.
Olivia, on the other hand, was not set. I ended up making her a ‘deconstructed Elsa Dress’. Which means I bought a $4 long sleeved T-shirt to which I sewed sheer fabric on the back for a cape and another sheer, sparkly fabric to the front to reflect the sweetheart neckline of Elsa’s dress. She wore shorts that were the same blue and I braided her hair into an ‘Elsa braid.’
For Decade Day, I suggested I make the girls ‘circle’ skirts.
My mom told me that those kinds of skirts aren’t nearly as easy to make as I might think they are.
For what it’s worth, she’s right, though I don’t know that for sure since I didn’t make either skirt. My mom made both of them. Because she’s awesome and a lifesaver and my total hero.
But! I did dye the fabric that was used to make Alyssa’s skirt.
And that, my friend(s?) was a process unto itself. And quite honestly? It deserves its own post.
On Wednesday, Olivia wore a red t-shirt she borrowed from her sister. Thanks Lyss!! I braided O’s hair and used red hair ties and I polished her fingernails in a lovely sparkly red. Done and done.
Alyssa dressed herself in a lovely green T-shirt and a green hoodie. She’s quite the teenager, I must say.
Thursday, or Fucking FARMER day (gag), Olivia once again borrowed from her sister. This time it was a plaid shirt. She wore that with shorts she could wear to gym. I braided her hair into two braids down the side because, farmer girl, right?
Alyssa donned one of her own flannel shirts, a pair of jeans and cowboy boots. Cowboy and farmer are basically the same thing, right? Right.
Bomber Blue and Gray day, whee! Blue shirts with the school mascot (a bomber plane, duh) and jeans.
And then there was the game…which I attended because I’m a music booster mom. Can you even stand it?
Monday, October 7, 2019
Chill
So apparently, I’m the chill mom.
Ha!
Should have seen me the other night while trying to ‘help’ Olivia with her homework. OMG, you guys, that child is going to put me into an asylum.
It took her no fewer than 10 minutes to sit down. Seriously.
She spun, she clicked, she snapped her knees together (they’re currently bruised from all the snapping). She hopped. She put her right knee on the chair, paused, removed her right knee and put her left knee on the chair. She decided that, no, the left knee could not go first and switched back to the right knee.
Then she paused, right knee on the chair, looked around and caught my stare.
I said, “Will you just sit?”
That derailed her and the whole routine had to be repeated.
I was decidedly not chill by then. I wanted to pull my hair out. Except, you guys know how I feel about my hair these days, so that wasn’t an option.
Finally, FINALLY! She sat down.
-
-
-
And looked at me. And kept looking at me.
As if she didn’t know what to do next.
Her homework was right in front of her. The pencil was in her hand. The instructions were pretty clear. WRITE THE SPELLING WORDS.
She asked me to sharpen her pencil.
It didn’t need sharpened.
I sharpened it anyway.
She wrote the first three letters of the first word. She erased those letter and wrote them again.
She picked at the pencil. She looked me.
I glared at her and told her to WRITE THE WORDS.
This went on for twenty minutes. She had twelve words to write. TWELVE.
I know.
She doesn’t mean to irritate the shit out of me.
I know.
But I was so tired that day.
I’d gone to work early. I’d had to run to town before going home to order pizza for the JH/HS marching band to be picked up on Friday and served before a football game.
I know that Olivia can’t help some of her quirks.
But back to my being chill. Apparently, my ability to braid hair makes me super chill.
Who knew?
Go me and my mad braiding skillz.
Though, maybe my willingness to say the word penis in front of my children when describing the male reproductive organ lends itself to my chillness.
Ha!
Should have seen me the other night while trying to ‘help’ Olivia with her homework. OMG, you guys, that child is going to put me into an asylum.
It took her no fewer than 10 minutes to sit down. Seriously.
She spun, she clicked, she snapped her knees together (they’re currently bruised from all the snapping). She hopped. She put her right knee on the chair, paused, removed her right knee and put her left knee on the chair. She decided that, no, the left knee could not go first and switched back to the right knee.
Then she paused, right knee on the chair, looked around and caught my stare.
I said, “Will you just sit?”
That derailed her and the whole routine had to be repeated.
I was decidedly not chill by then. I wanted to pull my hair out. Except, you guys know how I feel about my hair these days, so that wasn’t an option.
Finally, FINALLY! She sat down.
-
-
-
And looked at me. And kept looking at me.
As if she didn’t know what to do next.
Her homework was right in front of her. The pencil was in her hand. The instructions were pretty clear. WRITE THE SPELLING WORDS.
She asked me to sharpen her pencil.
It didn’t need sharpened.
I sharpened it anyway.
She wrote the first three letters of the first word. She erased those letter and wrote them again.
She picked at the pencil. She looked me.
I glared at her and told her to WRITE THE WORDS.
This went on for twenty minutes. She had twelve words to write. TWELVE.
I know.
She doesn’t mean to irritate the shit out of me.
I know.
But I was so tired that day.
I’d gone to work early. I’d had to run to town before going home to order pizza for the JH/HS marching band to be picked up on Friday and served before a football game.
I know that Olivia can’t help some of her quirks.
But back to my being chill. Apparently, my ability to braid hair makes me super chill.
Who knew?
Go me and my mad braiding skillz.
Though, maybe my willingness to say the word penis in front of my children when describing the male reproductive organ lends itself to my chillness.
Friday, October 4, 2019
Flower on a Tuesday
One recent Tuesday, I left work, went to Meijer (because it’s closer to my work than WalMart) and bought cereal (Lucky Charms for those who want to know), turkey and Lays BBQ chips. I also got cash back when I paid because Alyssa needed to pay her voice teacher at the next lesson, which was the very next Wednesday.
Yes.
I then raced home thinking Liv and I could get one page of math done and a spelling activity out of the way before I headed to the school for Volley for the Cure.
Oh please. Don’t even think that I was going because I’m the face of breast cancer in my community.
No.
I was going because the pep band was playing between the JV and the varsity volleyball games and the choir was singing the national anthem before the varsity game.
Yes, I paid $6 to listen to my daughter toot her piccolo and sing a lovely version of The Star Spangled Banner.
I left after the first volley of the varsity game.
Give me a break. It was after 7pm at that point and I’d been home for all of 45 minutes that day, not including the morning routine before work. And those forty-five minutes? They were spent bitching and moaning about the insanity of the homework that Olivia brought home that night. It was geography.
OMG.
Seriously.
The copies were so awful, I couldn’t read the stupid latitude and longitude on the pictures. The instructions were vague and stupid.
She was supposed to do the starred pages. There were six starred pages. We did five of them. The sixth one, oh, let me tell you about that sixth page.
The instructions were to create picture codes that could be used on a map key for things like a foot path, a place for picnics, and so on.
There was NO FREAKING WAY that Olivia was going to be able to come up with pictures and then ACTUALLY DRAW THEM for this assignment.
I wrote at the top of that page, “Olivia did not understand the instructions to this task. She also does not have the fine motor skills to complete it even when it was explained to her.”
Sigh.
I hate that sometimes I have to actually say, “She can’t do this.”
But damn it, she’s not learning anything when I do her freaking homework.
I tried so hard during those 45 minutes to explain each answer and how we arrived at those answers.
I don’t know.
What I do know is that when I’m tired or feeling stressed about time or anything else, I’m a raging bitch when it comes to homework.
This is so unfair to Olivia.
I pray every night to be better, do better, serve her better.
We’ll see.
We did finally get done with the last page of the home work and I headed to the Volley for the Cure game.
I paid my $6 and wen t to find a seat.
I sat behind the dad of one of Alyssa’s friends (through N.) This guy once dated my cousin. He knows my mom well and these days, he knows me on sight. He told me my hair looked nice. Ha!
Before the game started, the announcer mentioned why we were all there (other than to listen to the band and the choir.)
He asked all the survivors and fighters to stand.
Sigh.
Friend’s Dad turned and looked me.
I tried not to make eye contact.
He said, “That’s you!”
Fine.
I stood up and endured the applause. Then one of the volleyball players brought me a flower.
And…she hugged me.
Which is fine. It’s all fine.
And that’s why I took a yellow carnation home from a Tuesday night volleyball game.
Tuesdays wear me out.
Yes.
I then raced home thinking Liv and I could get one page of math done and a spelling activity out of the way before I headed to the school for Volley for the Cure.
Oh please. Don’t even think that I was going because I’m the face of breast cancer in my community.
No.
I was going because the pep band was playing between the JV and the varsity volleyball games and the choir was singing the national anthem before the varsity game.
Yes, I paid $6 to listen to my daughter toot her piccolo and sing a lovely version of The Star Spangled Banner.
I left after the first volley of the varsity game.
Give me a break. It was after 7pm at that point and I’d been home for all of 45 minutes that day, not including the morning routine before work. And those forty-five minutes? They were spent bitching and moaning about the insanity of the homework that Olivia brought home that night. It was geography.
OMG.
Seriously.
The copies were so awful, I couldn’t read the stupid latitude and longitude on the pictures. The instructions were vague and stupid.
She was supposed to do the starred pages. There were six starred pages. We did five of them. The sixth one, oh, let me tell you about that sixth page.
The instructions were to create picture codes that could be used on a map key for things like a foot path, a place for picnics, and so on.
There was NO FREAKING WAY that Olivia was going to be able to come up with pictures and then ACTUALLY DRAW THEM for this assignment.
I wrote at the top of that page, “Olivia did not understand the instructions to this task. She also does not have the fine motor skills to complete it even when it was explained to her.”
Sigh.
I hate that sometimes I have to actually say, “She can’t do this.”
But damn it, she’s not learning anything when I do her freaking homework.
I tried so hard during those 45 minutes to explain each answer and how we arrived at those answers.
I don’t know.
What I do know is that when I’m tired or feeling stressed about time or anything else, I’m a raging bitch when it comes to homework.
This is so unfair to Olivia.
I pray every night to be better, do better, serve her better.
We’ll see.
We did finally get done with the last page of the home work and I headed to the Volley for the Cure game.
I paid my $6 and wen t to find a seat.
I sat behind the dad of one of Alyssa’s friends (through N.) This guy once dated my cousin. He knows my mom well and these days, he knows me on sight. He told me my hair looked nice. Ha!
Before the game started, the announcer mentioned why we were all there (other than to listen to the band and the choir.)
He asked all the survivors and fighters to stand.
Sigh.
Friend’s Dad turned and looked me.
I tried not to make eye contact.
He said, “That’s you!”
Fine.
I stood up and endured the applause. Then one of the volleyball players brought me a flower.
And…she hugged me.
Which is fine. It’s all fine.
And that’s why I took a yellow carnation home from a Tuesday night volleyball game.
Tuesdays wear me out.
Thursday, October 3, 2019
Put Together
There’s this woman at work who is always so put together.
By that I mean that her hair is always done (it’s HUGE, actually), she’s always got high heeled shoes on, her makeup is applied with a steady, if heavy hand.
I’ve followed her through the front door a few mornings and she’s always perfumed.
She accessories to perfection. She tucks her shirts into her jeans and wears a belt. A BELT, for goodness sake.
She makes me look like I wear potato sacks to work.
And yet…I have no desire to be that put together.
It looks exhausting.
I get up at 5:40 each morning, shower, dress, slap on a little make up (eye shadow, a bit of liner and mascara, that’s it.) I scrunch my hair and then I wake Liv up and get busy helping her with her hair and clothes.
So yeah, I have no desire to put more work into my appearance.
My hair, well, it is what it is.
I am not going to start a makeup routine that involves things like primer, foundation, highlighter, blush, brow pencil, blah blah blah.
Perfume gives me a headache and you couldn’t pay me to wear a belt.
So I’ll schlump to work each looking the way I look.
And I’m okay with that.
Put Together Lady can corner the market on accessories and hair spray.
I’ll just be over here in my jeans and untucked shirt, still growing my hair out and making the best of each and every day.
By that I mean that her hair is always done (it’s HUGE, actually), she’s always got high heeled shoes on, her makeup is applied with a steady, if heavy hand.
I’ve followed her through the front door a few mornings and she’s always perfumed.
She accessories to perfection. She tucks her shirts into her jeans and wears a belt. A BELT, for goodness sake.
She makes me look like I wear potato sacks to work.
And yet…I have no desire to be that put together.
It looks exhausting.
I get up at 5:40 each morning, shower, dress, slap on a little make up (eye shadow, a bit of liner and mascara, that’s it.) I scrunch my hair and then I wake Liv up and get busy helping her with her hair and clothes.
So yeah, I have no desire to put more work into my appearance.
My hair, well, it is what it is.
I am not going to start a makeup routine that involves things like primer, foundation, highlighter, blush, brow pencil, blah blah blah.
Perfume gives me a headache and you couldn’t pay me to wear a belt.
So I’ll schlump to work each looking the way I look.
And I’m okay with that.
Put Together Lady can corner the market on accessories and hair spray.
I’ll just be over here in my jeans and untucked shirt, still growing my hair out and making the best of each and every day.
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