Day Seven! Saving Sons

There is only one person on this entire world who can make me mad. I really don't know how he does it. It only takes a minute. The right thing is said and my entire being boils from the inside. Maybe four years ago, I would be able to keep the lid to my kettle shut. I never ever ever yell. I never ever ever get mad. I never ever loose my control. Well, until he came along. And, I made him. Let's start at the beginning of the day. I wake to the sight on my daughters big blue eyes looking up at me from her father's side of the bed. She didn't jab me in the ribs this morning. No, she is a kitty. That is a pretty pleasant way to wake up, you know. And, it was 7:14, not the usualy 5:45 when she fluffed up the covers and snuggled into my side. Today, both kids are pleasant. Why, you ask? Well, they know they get a day of fun with their friends Alexis and Micheal who just happen to be their same ages. Their mom will take the kids up to the big bouncy place and feed them lunch. I am excited for a couple of hours to create in my studio. Alas, I whittled away the time after they left sorting eight dozen piles of "get to this later" that was lingering on the kitchen counter. So, no art today, but a bit mo organized...kind of. At one, I dash up to meet the kids and a friend who lives up north. I meet the friend but am at the wrong bounce place. After a too short chat with my friend, I race to pick up to very tired kids. I fly through three cities south to an appointment. Arriving fifteen minutes late, we still get the eval from the kids' PT. Simple fix, buy daughter narrow shoes and/or orthotic support for her heel. We are shown exercises. During the appointment, brother played on this swing thing in the gym space. He played a little on the iPad. Then I guess he went to swing and sister picked up the pad to play Smurf while I was chatting with the therapsit. Okay, who cares, right? A fight proceeds to elevate on the way to the car about who got more time on the iPad and who gets to play it in the car...never mind that I never said anyone could play in the car. Bing bang boom, now no one is getting to play on the pad at all. He is furious. He is screaming at me. He throws a shoe at my head. My blood boils. I loose it. I yell, "Get your seat belt buckled, Asshole." Okay, before you turn me in to the authorities, remember I do know I shouldn't call my son a bad name. The whole way home I am bawling. My son is bawling and screaming. Now he is going to run away from home. Now, he is going to spend his time out in the car, and I can't put down the garage door on him. Now his time out is five miutes instead of six. Now, his sister is taking up too much space. Now... I am at a loss. I suppose that is why I am writing about this. He is too old and heavy to carry him up to his room. I have given him choices. I have explained that he is in control by the choices he makes. I am a Love and Logic parent. i am a Love and Logic parent. I am...sigh. I am scared he is just going to get bigger and stronger. Will he out grow this? It only started this year. Where is my sweety? Where is the guy who asks if he can help everyone. Everyone but me. Why me? I pull into the garage and see that Father is home. I send Julia inside; she undrstands. I can see it in her eyes. I pull out of the drive and start down the street. "Where are you going, Momma?". "I don't know." I drive to the reservoir that is part of the 10k loop I have yet to master. I get out. He gets out. I point out the bathrooms. I point out the shelter where two people are picnicing and looking at us curiously. I point out the trash cans and walk down to a bench. There are fishermen along the bank. I tell him I will bring him a fishing rod in the morning and ask him if he knows how to start a grill to cook the fish. "Why are you telling me this?". "Oh, well, you said I was the worse mother, you didn't care about anyone and you wanted to go live by yourself some where. I thought this was a good place for you to try. You have a potty, fish, a bench, rain shelter, and even a trash you could dig through for food if you get desperate. And, the great thing is it is only a few miles from home so if you change your mind, you can walk home.". By this time we are sitting on another bench. It is warm by the sun, but I can tell that won't last much longer. It is a bit breezy. I get up to leave. "Where are you going?" "Home for dinner. Don't worry I will leave the blanket from the car with you. I will bring you a fishing rod in the morning.". Defeated and crying he runs behind me and slips his hand into mine. It is cold. "I don't want to stay here.". "But, you didn't want to live with me, and I am going home. So maybe you ought to stay here.". We get to the car. I sit on the curb. He sits next to me and asks for a Kleenex. I get him one. I ask him to look at his reflection in the car side panel. I ask him what he sees. He is silent. I tell him what I see. He begins to pour out his soul, his fears, his sadness. We talk about what kind of man he wants to grow up to be. I give him some ideas on how to deal with his anger. He feels defeated and claims none of that will work. I ask him to pick a number. Next time he feels the anger come up, he will count backwards from twenty. Do I think the counting will help, not really. I am this boy's mom. He is the only person in this entire Earth in all of my life time that has ever insited me to yell and loose my cool. I wish I could put him a little cuddly box and keep him little. But, that is not the way of life. So I pray. I pray for me, not him. I pray for guidance. And, I take an exhausted boy home, feed him, and put him to bed at 6:30. He asks if he still has to do time out. I tell him he already did. And, I leave for an art lecture by Kim Weston, Edward Weston's grandson, at the Longmont Musuem. I ran my victory lap as I learned about the life and work of the famous photographer and his heirs. Well, a victory lap for today. Now for the trophy, bed.

A Not So Ordinary Mom's Log of Summer

DAY -0.5 of 84 days of Summer Vacation: After chasing our napkins on an extremely windy all-school family picnic, we happily arrive in the stillness of the garage with our bikes and backpacks full of paper and trash. I add the papers to the ombined stack of papers and art from school. It now measures about 18 inches in height and is beginning to tetter to the left. We change into our suits and head to the pool. An inside pool, that is, due to the extreme fifty mph wind gusting like a wind tunnel in Wyoming. Friends are everywhere, kids are laughing and enjoying, and mom is a bit cold and tired after treading water for like ever watching her fish dive. Then it is a Red Box flick and one dollar popsicles. "Wow," Mom says, "I don't think I can keep this pace through the summer." DAY 1 of 84: "Mom, what would be doing right now if we were in school today?" asks number one child every ten minutes. Another day of fun. Scooters to the park, board games, and another movie. Early to bed, I thought. Yet, the tired puppies resist. Day 2 of 84: After packing, we are off mid morning to Pinewood something or other campsites above Carter Lake. I think our specific site area was called Windy Pines and it will show us why during the wee hours of the night. Day is filled with fishing. Scott brought the Avon and the boys go out with our Friend Luke and his son. Julia and I, having tried the Avon inflatible row boat for about ten minutes, decide are time was better spent at camp. So way up the hil overlooking the lake, we draw. She writes a poem about jelly fish and days in May while I draw the still life dirty lunch dishes and a bannanna. Then Julia makes up a fun game. One person draws. If that person stops, then the paper is passed to the other participant. It was a blast. As the evening draws near, we start a fire, put on our coats and hunker down to a meal of pasta and brocolli. The coolest thing about camping is I don't have to do any of the cooking or cleaning dishes. Awesome. I think this is the carrot for me sleeping on the cold mat and bearing the stinch of the lattrin without actually throwing up. The night is rough as the wind picks up around ten. The children are crying and we consider leaving. But, just as Scott decides no one is going to sleep so we might as well leave, the kids all pass out. Somewhere around one am, Jack is awake and whining about being scared. He crawls up on the double blow up mattress. It is too crowded. He falls asleep quickly and I climb down on his mat. It is colder down there, but I have the forty below sleeping bag so I manage. It is more quiet down there and Julia, I am pretty sure she was still asleep, snuggles up against me like a cat. I feel a layer of dirt that has escaped into the rain fly and tent screen to coat the imside. DAY 3 of 84: the wind is a little calmer as the sun is rising. The air is still in the tent. I am the first one awake. Now, this may not be weird in some families. But, Scott gets up at four or five am on a regular basis. It is odd to see him sleeping after the sun is coming to warm the earth. I lay silently stretching my feet and arms wishing I was still asleep. The air is cold. I have to, you know... I sleek out of the tent putting on an extra sweater and race up the hill. It is nearly eight. The other camps are waking. I see the baby who was crying half the night is up in her daddy's arms. He's throwing away a diaper. The bathroom reecks. There a no words to discribe the stench that the wind mist have kicked up. After, some gagging, nearly giving up, deciding I can't hold it, psychic myself out, taking a huge breath outside and dashing in, breath held and shirt over nose, I take care of business. Phew, I nearly throw up outside and the daddy looks at me like I surely don't have kids and never changed a diaper. Okay, I admit, I often threw up after changing my kids' pants. In fact, when I was pregnant with Jack, I changed ninemonth old Julia's diaper in the bath tub. That way I could take care of my needs in the toilet with out worrying if she would fall off the changing table. Nothing personal, Honey. Having spent the night in the wind, we were pretty ready to strike the camp after a pancake breakfast. I take the kids to the lake shore while the men people pack the cars. During the forty-five minute drive south to home, the kids pass out. I think I fall asleep for a bit too. A bath forevery one yes, one at a time, is a grand reward. A little quiet time and we are off again. We meet Scott's cousin and sister in Denver at the Sixttenth Street mall for dinner. We have not seen each other since before we had kids. I think it was my sister-in-law's wedding twelve years ago. Jack had a great time with his five year old second cousin. Julia started a game of Hangman with her crazy Uncle Scott, and I enjoyed my Thia Lettuce Wraps. yes, that is what I always get at the Ceesecake Fatory. It was a fun night and our beds where so inviting. Yet, the kids, again, resist. DAY 4 of 84: Memorial Day. Phew, a day to sleep in. I let the kids each sleep until they wake themselves up. Come nine, I start getting a bit loud to rouse the troops. It is a slow day. Scott comes home from a mountain run, and we have brunch together as the kids are finally up. I go off to the noon yoga class...love it after sleeping so horribly the past several nights. Then, a bout two, I take the kids to the Boulder Creek Festival. We timed it right to see the acapella band of six men called FACE. And it is the rubber ducky race that please the kids. Seven thousand rubber ducks floating down the River really is a bit impressive. After a ride on the carosel,we head home. Scott grills. The kids can barely keep their eyes open, yet, they resist. New house rule: kids in bed at 7:30 Monday through Wednesday. DAY 5 of 84: Though my better judgement says that we should spend the day learning how to be really bored, I want to see Chimpanzee. So I found the only theater still playing the film, call up one of Julia's friends, and we all head out. I am so glad I caught this movie on the big screen. It was amazing. The kids loved it and my prism glasses make it look 3-D. After catching lunch at Subway, we head to Scot Carpenter Park in Boulder on the way home. About two o'clock, the friend's mom calls my cell. We are off for home and swimming in their apartment pool. The water is cold. The hot tub is too hot even for me. But, those are just inconvenious when it comes to fun with friends. Then, it is home. Grandma and Grandpa have returned to toan and are coming over for diner. I BBQ a few turkey sliders and make a salad. The conversation was delicious and the food fulfiling. Really, I am not su I can keep up this pace all summer. Kids to bed...no excpetions. They resist. DAY 6 of 84: It is another fun filled day. We meet some friends for a hike to Button Rock Reservoir just above Lyons. Jack befriends a Josh. The boys are racing up the hill. I keep up with them. Josh's mom stops with some some of the other moms with toddlers. I slow down the boys. We walk with the moms with strollers and three year olds. We are almost up to the reservoir and it is past noon. But, I start thinking that Josh's mom just may not catch up with us. So here I am with this boy and I am not too sure what to do. I really don't want to go running down the steep hill by myself with three kids. And, the kids are quote, unquote, starving. So I stick with the other moms, get the the servoir, share our lunch and take a few photos. On the way down, we try to hustle the kiddos. The three year olds want to walk. Julia holds their hands like a big sister to get them move faster. At the bottom is Josh's mom clearly upset. She had actually only been there about ten minutes. Her group never made it all the way up. She had gone back once leaving her younger son with her group of moms. So here she was not knowing what to do and walking somewhere between her sons. At any rate, the reunion was gracious, and I explain that I also didn't know what to do because when I realized she wasn't following behind us, it was too late. She was greatful that the boys had such a great time and her son was fed and happy. A weird happening to what started off to be a normal day of hiking with friends. Since the kids hiked three point five miles...the most they have ever hiked...I rewarded them with a stop at the Dariy Bar. Dispite the name and the cow pattern paint on the facade, there is a dairy-free smoothy for some special tummies to ejoy. And, yes, this is a reward. The second new house rule for the summer is that there are only two desserts in a week. Since they had one on Monday at the Boulder Creek Festival and there is desst planned for this weekend up at Sol Vista with friends, I gave them these fruit smoothies as rewards. I am pretty proud of them. Needless to say, after falling asleep on the short drive home, they only wanted to watch one episode of Phebus and Ferb. Well, okay, spoiled kiddos. Life can slow down another day. Needless to say, they reesisted. I went to yoga at seven. When I returned home completely soar form practice and the hike, they were both still up. But, I am proud of them for at least being in their beds reading. Mrs. dudley and Mrs. Bauer, thank you so much for teaching them to read.

Tending to Our Gardens

I planted a garden. I have two sprouts to tend to. I water and feed them. Sometimes I even tell them funny stories. Talking to sprouts is a good way to help them grow, you know. I lost my wedding ring one day. I was so focussed on the sprouts that I didn't notice for a while. When I finally noticed the white band on my tanned ring finger, I sat on my honches and contemplated the situation. Finding the ring was going to take careful comsideration. So I plotted out the area of the garden around my two little sprouts and carefully tilled the soil. I had thought the soil to be poor until I started digging in deep. Under the top soil, I found the black gold that nurtures the roots of my precious sprouts. Down there, in the dark soil, I found my ring. I washed it off with water from the hose. The sun winked at me with a sparkle in the diamond. Tomorrow I will wear my gloves. This is a story I have had travelling in my mind for a few days. Sometimes while I am doing my yoga class, I am writing stories in the air. I know, I know, be present. When I turn off my ego brain, the stories just fill the space. Today was one of those days. I had the most interesting class at Solar Yoga. It was unusually packed by all women. My guess is several of them were moms like me and celebrating our last Friday to enjoy the 90 minute class before our mornings are filled with children and swim lessons for the 84 days of summer vacation. The class was all women. Women of all ages from twenty to mid-sixties. When the instructor came in, she exclaimed, "Do you guys feel that intense feminine vibration?". Well, yes. The class turned out so cool as we worked through lunar postures, and Miss Yogi talked candidly about the difference of men and women and how they deal with challenges. Of course, there was quite the upside down chuckle as we hung in down dog for what seemed like ten minutes and Miss Yogi smilingly says, "See what I mean, if I asked you right now how you feel, you would say everything was fine, just fine. But, in your head you would be cursing me out while you are praying for someone else to be the first one to collapse into child's pose.". And, then we moved into reclined piegon which we held for, like, an hour. Okay, not really. After 83 minutes of sweating and flowing together and one last happy baby, we lied in corpse pose exhausted. A sweet tune about receiving love filled the room. We breathed in one, two, three. Out one, two, three. In one, two, three. Out one, two, three. Tears mingled quietly with the sweat at my temples. There was a sigh. Together, we roll over on our right sides, eyes closed, push with our left arms, and raise to a seated position. I chose half lotus. In one, two, three. Out one, two, three. "Namaste.". That is when I saw them. I saw the husbands, the kids, the mothers and fathers. I saw the pains and the joyful burdens. I saw the laundry and the dead mouse in the garage. All of that, all of their THAT, floated away in a mist of a cloud. As the mats began to scrap along the ground into their little rolls, I opened my eyes and looked over at the woman just in front of me to the right. Her eyes brimmed with tears too. Wow, what a moment. Now, the trick is allowing that to last forever. Oh yes, that is the true challnege. Staying with the power of the present. We, this room full of sweating women of all ages, had joined together, practiced together. We did it for ourselves, together. And when it was all done, after the ego talk that told us we couldn't hold the d*mn piegon for one more freaking second, we released the burdens as easily as a birthday candle dwindles while everyone sings off key. There is some interesting dynamics when a bunch of women get together. Though we may tend to our gardens alone, there is always someone in the next planter box tending to their sprouts or searching for a ring. We are all just here muddling along. When we can see the present for its simplicity of being where we are now, then our garden becomes a neat little planter box with fertile soil instead of a field of boulders. Our sprouts like that.

Bad Mommy

Okay, so I plea the fifth. Isn't that the "I am and idot" loop hole? At any rate, I am a bad mommy. So Jack came bounding down the stairs, hermit crab shell in hand. "Look, Mom, she is molting." "I don't think hermit crabs molt. I think she is dead." You have to understand he was holding this shell up to me with this white body squiggling in front of me. I was so creeped out. Poor guy, Jack tossed her in the trash about in tears. Of course, at bed time, he asked when he could go get a new crab. At pet day the next day, Jack brought two crabs and told his class that the third one, the littlest, died the night before. They all shared their sympathies. To make a long story short, jump forward to today. I am curious about cleaning the sand before I put the crabs back in their aquarium. So I Goggle: how do I clean sand for hermit crabs. I get a great site and start reading. Oh, man, they do molt. Oh, my gosh, the crab isn't dead! So I go to the trash which needed to be taken out anyway. I see the shell squished to the side about half way down. It wiggles. Oh no! I pull out the poor thing. I am squimish. Why the heck am I squimish when I think something might be dead? I place the crab in a bowl of distilled water to bath it, something I learned on the site I Goggled. And sure enough, a litle whitish lavendar body crawls out. Three days. Poor dear. I am a horrible mommy. I threw out our pet. After fixing up the cage, I settle the three crabs in and try to figure out how to explain my ignorance to my kiddos. Jack was thrilled. He didn't even ask for an apology. No, bad mommy saved the crab. I haven't seen the crab move all evening. I only prey she is simply frightened and not shocked to death. Lesson one thousand and twenty in the book of parenting: hermit crabs molt. Read the manual. Lesson one thousand and twenty one: though sons sometimes think you are a superhero, they also know you make mistakes becuase you are really just an ordinary human. Be honest. They forgive.

For Cure Today

Short paragraph for the Cure Today magazine on exercising and my crap cancer gig.

I am a three year survivor of metastatic breast cancer. In three years, I have had three courses of treatments and three acknowledgements of remission. I had always been an occassional exerciser. Just prior to my diagnoses, and three years after my last child was born, I announced I finally was at my pre-baby weight. Through out my first treatments, chemotherapy and Cyber Knife on my liver tumor, I walked. I walked everyday no matter how bad I felt. Okay, there were a few days I missed. I even walked a mile on the fifth day (worse day) of my sixth round of chemo near my home with my family during the Susan G. Korman Race for the cure since my oncologist said not to be in crowds yet. About three months later, I worked myself up to running a mile, then two miles, then three, and by six months post-chemo, 4 miles. I had never been a runner. I became an accidental runner. I lost the twenty pounds of chemo weight and strengthened my mental survivaltude...if that is a word. The pushing myself just a little further and little faster, I found the love of saying no to the my body when it wanted to give up on me and push to where I had no idea I could be. It was not just running that got me stronger mentally. I also started a hot yoga practice. I practice two to three times a week. Like running, I pushed myself to perfect poses, hold them longer, and balance better. The gift that yoga, as a practice, gave me allows me to relax through hour long radiation treatments, PET/CTs, and MRIs. I have the mental fortitude to not succumb to fear during scans and to use meditive visual therapy. My cancer mastetsized to my brain in 2010, eighteen months after diagnoses. Having brain tumors and getting through the scare of dying...again...twice more...was very trying. When I couldn't run after my whole brain radiation, I sweated in hot yoga. Sure, I had to lay in child's pose half the time. and I completely lost the ability to balance in tree pose, my favortie. But, I got something else from going to class twice a week even on my weekest days. I had meditation and drive to reclaim what was once mine. I never gave up. Today, five months after my WBR, I can run a mile non-stop and hold a tree pose in half lotus. Exercising gave me goals to run towards. It taught me to never give up. Cancer tried to take away my physical body three times. But, I kicked it in the behind and kept moving. The fact I am alive today, as my oncologist says, is remarkable. I truely believe the balance of yoga and running keeps this machine I call my body on this Earth to let my sould thrive.

Survivor tip number one: Move it.

This morning, I ran my long loop, 5k, without stop in 45 minutes. It has been five months since I have been able to do this. But, I will have you know, I didn't run out the door without a little effort. I am asked often how I do it; how do I survive. Well, I learned to move it. During my initial chemo three yesrs ago, I walked everyday. Some days it was eough to cirle the block. Other days, I could push a mile at a good clip. Once I finished chemo, I had some weight to get off and strength to regain. I started a regular Birkum yoga pratice and continued to walk. One day, I decided to run a little. So I did. The next time out, I ran more. Then, I ran the whole mile loop without stopping. By the end of the following summer, I was running about three miles without stop. During the whole brain radiation I received last November, my body aged several years in the time span of four weeks. My muscles lost mass and fatigued easily. My legs felt as if they were in constant cramps. But, I got out there and walked. Being winter, I did more hot yoga classes then walk in the cold. I kept moving. I never stopped trying to do tree pose like I had before my brain was fried. I never gave up on the concept of running the long loop without stop again. It took time, I had to be patient with my body. I had to go to yog or ventue on a run even when I didn't feel like it. But, I did it. It's not one hudred percent yet, but it will be. The phyiscal benefits of regularily running and yoga is pretty obvious. I lost the eighteen pounds I gained during chemo, kept my heart pumping and felt great in my tall spin as I twisted and moved in yoga. What really made the differene is the sure fact I didn't give up. So I had a set back this year, but I got back on the horse as fast as I could. It is the mental challenge that is the greatest benefit as a survivor. As I was running today, I wanted to stop part way. I told my legs they weren't allowed to give up. So they kept going even when the going was slow. Just like in yoga on Tuesday, I wanted to not do a certain pose. I was tired. But, I did it anyway. I don't want to sit in a recliner every three weeks to get my targetted drug. I don't want to wake up at one am wondering if I remembered to take my oral drug on and empty stomach. But, I do it. I make the best of it. Running has taught me that. Maybe running and yoga is not your thing. Find something, anything, you enjoy. Team sports are great because they provide your with a community of support. Walking is the simpliest. It does not cost a thing. Just go outsie and work your machine. Walk longer slowly. Walk faster over time. And, who knows, maybe one day, you will run. I don't what tomorrow will hold. But, I do know one thing. Tomorrow, when I run, I will go faster. And, the next yoga class I take, I will not look at the clock because it is alright if I don't like all of it especially when I am feeling weak. Yes, my number one survivor tip is to move it. Move it for your body. Move it for your mind. It is all about not giving up before the race is over regardless if you are winning.

Ice Cream for Dinner

I know what your grandmother is thinking when she has ice cream for dinner night after night. "Might as well, this could be it for me. Better enjoy while it lasts.". I asked my oncologist today what his take on diet is. He told me he was going to be honest when he said, "I think we are beyond that point.". He went on to clarify that the whole vegan -cancer craze, in his opinion is good for prevention. For me, continuing a healthy diet of mainly vegetables and meat proteins is the way to continue my physical strength. Earlier in the conversation, just after we cheered that I was in full remission for the third time in three years, he said that this is quite remarkable. He said he honestly thought he was going to loose me this winter. But, I kept trooping again, beating the odds. Three years ago before my chemotherapy, I was told to realize that my type of cancer has a nine month survival rate. Three years ago and brain tumors too, damn it, I am still here. Most days I can't even believe I have cancer. How can that be real? How can it be that I have to fight to stay alive? In book club we read the Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. There are some great one liners in there that I made into mantras. He is talking about going in to a corner. Other drivers see the spin out that is going to happen and the accident as they loose control. But, what makes him a great driver in the rain is that he sees the spin out, makes it happen before while he is in control, and projects a successful corner. "What one sees out his windshield will manifest." Oh, the lovely life I see out my windshield. I am here on this earth to make art and be my kids' mom. Just before Easter, I was baptisized as an adult in my church. This is something surprising. I did not grow up with the belief in adult baptism. Then, I heard him say, "Go be baptisized and be a follower and not a fan. I follower the teachings of Jesus and continue my faith in God. I have balanced my spirituality and pray. Today, as I was overrwhelmed with tears of joy, triumph, sadness, and dispear, I prayed. Dear Lord and universe of Humaness, thank you for the past three years. Thank you for stregth that I didn't have so you provided. May this strength continue as long as I am needed here on this Earth. Allow me to continue to raise my children and teach them compassion. Allow me to give them my gifts so they may go out in this world and do something for it bigger then I could every imagine. Please God, may I serve as the pedalstool holding up my children until they are able to step down on their own with tall spins and creative minds. For this is my present in the present. Amen. And, now, snot running down my lip, I will go to yoga. I will thank my body for its incredible power. I bless my mind for staying the course and manifesting out my windshield the future I am meant to manifest. God bless you. PS. Did I make it clear that all tests where clear? So ice cream for dinner to celebrate...maybe.