My mom is still in the hospital (did I tell you about that? She went in Saturday night with severe abdominal pain…as of this moment, they still don’t know for sure what the pain is being caused by). Needless to say, she’s a bit frustrated and depressed and basically done with being in the hospital. I spent all day there yesterday, but was unable to go today (ironically, this is the day she normally comes to spend the day with Preston so that I can go to work!).

At about 5:30 she was threatening to sign herself out, no diagnosis, no treatment plan, since she hadn’t talked to a doctor or had her additional tests done all day. Either my brother and I speaking to her or her threats that caused a test to get scheduled…for midnight, but at least scheduled, kept her in there for at least tonight. I sure hope they find something!

In the meantime, I haven’t been to work since last week (even though I have worked from home, I was kind of getting used to being IN the office!). Bills are piling up (of course), and I’m drowning in laundry and dishes and clutter (see previous post) and parenting and daughtering and general messiness. I need to get clothes for Matt to wear to his concert (TOMORROW), supplies for the office, put away laundry, go see my mom, make lunches…blah blah blah blah.

BUT.

Tonight I get to sit on my freshly sheeted bed and watch Glee with Neil Patrick Harris (um, not WITH him, but wouldn’t THAT be the freaking bomb!), my kids snug in their beds (one sleeping and one reading, as usual). Tomorrow the sun is supposed to make an appearance (did I mention it’s been cloudy/rainy for 3 days?!). I’m making a plan to get rid of mucho stuff, which I know will make a huge difference. I’ve (almost) got a paint color picked out for the kitchen and I might even get a chance to ride my bike again soon!

So for all of my whining, I know it’s not that big of a deal. Life moves on – this week is a bumpy one, but it could be far worse. Laundry and dishes aren’t going anywhere (but damn, I wish they would!).

Deep breath.

Tomorrow is another day. *hopefully a lot freaking better*

Work woes coupled with cancer woes added to the fact that I can’t help with the boys.

The fact that I can’t roll around and laugh and giggle and tickle my babies is hurting me, but at least I get to watch them do that with their daddy.

The fact that when they yell because they need something, they automatically yell for daddy now, hurts a hell of a lot more than I thought it would.  The simple fact that I can’t get my baby the juice he wants or the ketchup he needs or whatever is breaking my heart into a million pieces.

Then there is work – my business, the business that I fell into but took over fully as my own, that has slipped into this long-lasting economic downturn resulting in me having to make some changes. Changes that would be so much easier if *I* could go in and work.  If I could work the floor and reduce payroll that way…But I can’t.  I’m stuck on my couch for now and then who knows for how long once whatever treatment I have to do starts. I’m praying for a fairy godfather to bestow some cash upon me to keep from bobbing under the water…but until that happens, changes have to be made.

All this to say that I’ve done the ugly cry (made uglier by being sick) a number of times today and it’s been rough.

not a creature …well, the boys are sleeping ….the dog is out…. ah, screw it, I can’t even get past the first line! hehe

So tomorrow morning, I will get up and head to the first of two buildings of U of M hospital.  My first visit is to nuclear medicine, where they will inject a dye into my leg to find the node that they need to remove and take x-rays or photos or something of said dye-injected leg.

By mid afternoon, I will be at my second building for the actual surgery (x2).  The surgery (-ies) will remove fairly large area around the mole that was originally removed to make sure there is no remaining melanoma in the surrounding cells; the second surgical area is wherever they find that node, but probably right in the crease of my leg.

Here, in no specific order, are my concerns:

1. That they will find additional cancer cells in either the surrounding area or the node (obviously)
2. That they will screw up and use steri-strips, thereby giving me hives
3. That they will either screw up, or be unable to find, an antibiotic that won’t cause an allergic reaction.
4. That I will be nauseous after the surgery (I don’t do well with feeling good after anesthesia)
5. That I won’t be able to use the crutches, thereby falling on my face and hurting the crap out of myself post-surgery.
6. That I won’t be able to move around effectively enough for Mike to go back to work on Monday.
7. That I’ll pass out from being STARVED for so many hours (and that I won’t be able to eat – see #4)

So I am nervous….cautiously optimistic….hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. Honestly, it doesn’t seem real. I mean, almost like it’s not a real cancer – seriously? a freaking mole?? How can that be serious?

Here’s the thing…I know it’s CANCER, but compared to what my cousin went through, it’s almost nothing.  He is a vision of strength; he has come so far in a year and I am amazed by him.  I’m not discounting my own experience, but any person that can go through 13 hours of surgery to have a tumor removed from his brain and go back to work as a firefighter has my utmost respect.

Alas, it is still a fairly major medical procedure and I do truly appreciate all of the thoughts, prayers, good mojo, whatever that you all are sending out there for me.

I’ve got my iphone loaded with games, music and videos (Alias, I’m looking at you to get me through this!).  I intend to tweet as I go, lean on my love who will be spending the day with me in waiting rooms (but at least HE gets to eat and drink!), and keep everyone updated.  I have a stack of magazines waiting by the couch and Canada Dry in my car (my go-to sick drink).

See ya’ll after!

xoxo

I like to drive with all my windows open on nice days – I don’t mind the windblown look.  But here’s the thing, it used to be I would never get out of my car without at least checking my face and hair in the rearview mirror.  The other day I was out and about and once I got back into my car it dawned on me that I had never once looked in the mirror.  Luckily, I didn’t have a bird nest for hair, but still! The possibility of looking a complete wreck and having no clue was very real.

Today, we were at the local waterpark and not once did I worry about what my hair looked like while we were playing, nor did I worry about what people would think of my sadly out of shape body as I walked around in my swimsuit.

There are apparently some benefits to being even lower maintenance than I was even before I had kids! Now, this is not to say that I go out of my way to look like a slob before going out, but rather that I just don’t seem to give a damn anymore.  As little as two years ago, I would never have dreamed of leaving my house in yoga pants and a somewhat ratty tee; these days, as long as I’m clean, who cares?! (And I am ALWAYS clean – seriously, I rarely leave the house without taking a shower).

I do have 2 things that I insist on, which are not so much low maintenance:  having my hair highlighted and getting the occasional pedicure.  If money were no object, you could totally add massages to that little list.

Then there is my house.  I’ve never been the best housekeeper, but I used to make sure my house was clean – picked up, dusted, vacuumed, wiped down.  As I sit right now (not cleaning, obviously) there is dust on the tv stand, a ridiculous mess of torn up dog toy on the floor, and on the ottoman is a kid doctor kit, a pile of drawings and art projects, two pair of clean underwear and a pencil sharpener.  From my perch on the couch, I can see a gihugeous pile of laundry waiting to be done, and there are clothes in the dryer. The front room is filled to the brim with stuff from the playroom that needs to be put back; there are baskets of clean clothes in each of the boys rooms (on the floor, next to the piles of discarded books).  My craft room/office? Well, let’s say it looks like a pack of raccoons came to visit, redecorated and then ran away.  And the dog hair? Holy hell, the dog hair!

And I hate it.  I hate how disgusting everything looks.  My carpets need to be cleaned, the windows are atrocious, and luckily I haven’t seen the spiders that go with the webs that are hanging around.

Here’s the problem…I want to have a clean house. I really, really, really do.  But I don’t want to clean. I don’t want to do laundry. I JUST.Don’t. Want. To. Obviously, that’s not a choice.

I can’t figure out where to find the time or motivation.  What I need is a day of no kids, no husband, no dog so that I can just clean. Just Clean.

I have so many things to do…so many lists, so many things just bouncing around in this brain of mine that inevitably some things are going to get pushed to the bottom of the list. Playing with kids, attending to their needs, living? That all comes way higher than cleaning my house.  So it actually is a good thing, this realignment of my priorities, but I think I may have swung just a little too far the other way.  It used to be I couldn’t relax at all in a messy house. Really. I could not sit down and watch tv or read or book in a messy house.  I finally let that ideal go, but instead of landing someplace in the middle, I’ve switched to being able to sit down in a pile of mess.

There has to be a happy middle ground.  I just wonder if I’ll ever be able to find it. Although, I guess if not, I won’t be alone, right??

Right?!

*I realize that the rules of writing and grammar say that one should never start a sentence with But or And or So, but I write like I talk (with a lot more punctuation), so it is what it is! Also, I don’t get paid to write this here blog, but if I ever did, I would totally correct my horrible gramatical ways.

‘Mom! I need to do my birthday with my class and you can make cookies for me to take in!’

{me, staring at his like he’d sprouted another head} ‘Uh, okaaayy. But your birthday is in August…’

‘But we can celebrate it in school this week!!’

{me, backing away slowly} ‘Alright, I’ll talk to your teacher tomorrow’ and thinking dude, you seriously woke up to tell me that 2 days before the end of school?!

Come to find out, yes, they do encourage the kids to celebrate their birthdays with the class when it falls during non-school months. So, since Matt wanted to take cookies, cookies I would bake!

My original thought was a plate of cookies. Then I thought, why not individual bags. Then I thought, man, that’s boring!!  For some reason my mind went to those little cookie cups they sell at the cookie place at the mall – you know, cookies filled with frosting or chocolate?  Why not try to make those?!

I broke out the Googles and found that most people use pre-made cookie dough. Hmmm…well, since I had already made a double batch of homemade cookie dough, I guess I would wing it.

I whipped out my mini muffin pans and got to work.

1st batch = FAIL.  Over-filled the tins, so the cookie spilled over the edge.  2nd batch= semi-fail. Not quite done enough in the center. 3rd batch = SUCCESS!

The cookies baked, I let them cool and grabbed a can of vanilla frosting. Using a spoon, I filled them up and then threw some sprinkles on the top for a little pizazz.

Birthday treats a success!

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I can’t believe that Matt is done with Kindergarten. For some reason, this change is much more emotional for me – the step from preschool to kindergarten was a big one, but an easy one when it came down to it.  But the move from Kindergarten to 1st grade? Seems HUGE. Big kids are in grades. Big kids go to first grade!! How did he get so big, so fast?  It’s not that it’ll big a challenge or change for him – he’ll be in the same school and probably have at least half of his current class in his new class (only 2 Kindergarten teacher and only 2 1st grade teachers).  It will be easier for him – he already knows the lay of the land, lots of kids and the teachers.  But for me? For some reason, not so easy.

————

We went in to get Matt on his last day and say goodbye to his teacher.  Although I was slightly unsure of her at the beginning of the year, I came to really enjoy and respect her.  She did right by my boy and for that I am thankful.  She understood his delicate nature, she let him learn at his own pace; she let him talk and be himself. She taught him well and he learned a lot from her.  She started to cry as he was saying goodbye to her and that broke my heart open a little wider.

Matt has changed a lot since the beginning of the year – he’s become less shy and a little more 5yo obnoxious. He wants to learn all the time. He’s reading at a 2nd grade level. The changes in his writing alone are amazing. He’s outgrowing his baby brother, just enough to make it feel like a knife in my heart.

The days of him running to me for hugs and cuddles are slipping away.  I’m glad I have all summer to try to hold on for just a little longer.