Let the Fun Begin!

Next week I officially start radiation... which I have affectionately titled "Nukem U"...

The skin on my left chest wall

(from bra-line to collarbone, and sternum to past my armpit)

will most likely end up looking ... well... over baked.

They have assured me that I will not glow in the dark at any point. Darn!

The orginal timeframe my radiation oncologist gave me was 28 treatments...

M-F... starting on a Tuesday & skipping Thanksgiving....

If I figure it right...

and if I don't miss any treatments...

and if they don't change the number...

I'll be done December 3rd...

which is two days short of 10 months since I found the lump.

Yeah!!

A Scare... and Breathing Easy-er?

So... I had a bit of a scare this week...

Ok that's an understatement.

I had a cause for moderate to major freaking out.

I had a busy medical week anyway with stuff for the transition from chemo to radiation.

• Monday: Echocardiogram, ECG, and Oncologist post-chemo check-up
• Tuesday: Radiation consultation with my new Radiation Oncologist
• Wednesday: Appointmet with Surgeon to have mediport removed, since chemo is done and I shouldn't need it anymore.

I had this little lump develop near my mastectomy scar over the course of about a week...

At first I thought it was no big deal, just some funny skin thing. But I was at the oncologist anyway... so I mentioned it. He said it need to come out; no ifs, ands,or buts. I told him that I was seeing the surgeon on Wed. anyway to have my port removed. He said not to do that yet. Have the lump checked/removed. Absolutely cannot start radiation until this is dealt with.

It wasn't so much that I had to have it removed as that he said "don't get your port out"... like you might need that!... that I started to freak out. I was fine until I got out of the office and to my car, then I proceeded to cry for the next 45 minutes before I could pull-it together enough to drive home.

Tuesday, the radiation oncologist,Dr. Z, concurred that it needed to at least be biopsied. He was a bit more specific (because I asked for specifics of the "what-if" scenarios). IF it is cancer... best case scenario is that it is removed. If she (the surgeon) can't remove it for whatever reason, Dr.Z said he could adjust the radiation to that area to deal with the lump... give it a little extra oomph! ya know... but regardless, I would have some kind of scan done to see if cancer was anywhere else, like the lymph nodes under my sternum or some other part of my body (like my bones).

And then we would go from there.

So Wednesday, I saw my surgeon (who is fabulous!) and she removed it. She also remodeled my scar a bit. I had this funny part that kind of stuck out at the end of the mastectomy incision, near my sternum. Since the lump was close to that area, she got rid of the lump and the funny bump at the same time... leaving me with 17 stitches to show for it. I love her because she will give me a straight answer without the typical sugar-coating if I ask for it... which I did. She thought it looked like a cancer recurrence.

Well.... It's NOT. The pathology came back that it was just an abcess, a spot of some kind of localized infection. I'm not really sure why it was hard and unmoveable, but....

So now I wonder why I am NOT breathing easier.

I mean... this is a minor miracle in my life. A recurrence after a mastectomy is typically a bad thing. Statistically, about 80% of women who get one eventually end up with cancer that has spread to other body systems, which is really not good.

So I lay in bed this morning... trying to figure out WHY I don't feel massive relief...

And I think I figured it out, at least somewhat...

From the time I was diagnosed, I have known that my cancer seemed to act pretty aggressively, grow pretty fast...

And I have been worried that it has spread already... and nobody knows it. From the beginning,

I have wanted SOMEBODY TO LOOK FOR IT.

Unless you have some symptoms of macrometastasis

(something big enough to cause symptoms), they don't look.

So if I had some bone pain or a funny cough....

they would look, but since I didn't....

well, they just watch and see.

You see, it doesn't improve your chances to find the spread early (before symptoms),

because the major factor is spread or no spread.

So here was my chance for someone to look for the sleeping monster inside me....

and now it's gone... now we're back to wait and see.

I feel like a ticking time bomb.

I know I have said that before, but it's just as true now.

I don't feel safe in my own skin.

What do you do when you can't get away from what's out to get you?

And so... I go about life.

I'm still a mom, a wife, a lover, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a follower of God, a nursing student.... all of these things and more.

And I try to convice myself that everything will be fine.

That I'll finish my treatment and that will be the end of it.

Sometimes it works, but sometimes.... well it doesn't.

I sound really morbid and depressing and I don't mean to.

I know more than ever that God has a plan for me

and that He is in control.

It's just that somewhere deep within,

I know that this cancer journey for me is going to be a long one.

That at some point it will be back and we'll dance again.

And I'm ok with that.

I just wish I knew when the music was gonna start....

Back to School

I feel like an incredible blogging slacker again, but it can't be helped.

At some point, I would like to write an Ode to Taxol (my current chemo drug) and whine my little heart out about how much I do not like it. But for now it will have to suffice to say that my chemo infusions will officially be over in 9 days... just 2more treatments. Then a little while after that for the residue to get out of my system and then hopefully I will be able to say goodbye to the pain and Vicoden that has accompanied the Taxol for the last 10 weeks...

But that will come later. Maybe December...?

Because I have started nursing school and now, I have no time for much of anything besides the necessities of my life... family, school, cancer... hopefully I can keep them prioritized that way. I try to keep up with everyone else, but just have no time to write anything about us. I apologize. Just know we are all well and still here. And God Bless Us, Every One.

Holy Crap!

I was writing out bills Thursday night and decided to add up my total medical bills to this point.
Holy crap.
Now, I have quite good insurance, so we are not paying this total amount, but it is still staggering if you look at the totals.

Here's the breakdown:

My local clinic bill... $7766
Includes: Mammogram, surgeon (& surgery follow-up), IUD removal, & removal of some little cysts on my head (so I don't have such a lumpy bald head).

Hospital imaging... $1029.20
Includes: Breast MRI

Hospital... $26,963.65
Includes: Biopsy, Bloodwork, 1st surgery
Doesn't include: 2nd surgery... I couldn't find the bill with that on it, but I think it was about $12,000.

Oncology Clinic... $7224
Includes: Consultations, Bloodwork, Pre-Chemo tests, 1st Chemo ($2542)

Pharmacy... $463.77
Includes: anti nausea meds

That puts the grand total somewhere between $43,000 & $55,000... so far... with about 6 months of treatment to go... Holy Crap!

Chemo Chronicles: The New Do...

SO... This was my "new do"... Remember?

I knew that the Adriamycin that is part of my chemotherapy makes everyone lose their hair. I had heard that the hair loss started about 2 weeks after your first treatment.

I had my first treatment on Monday, April 12th.

Sure enough....

2 Mondays later, while talking on the phone to a friend... my hair started coming out.

I knew this because I had been playing with it all morning... just waiting for the inevitible.
This was the Monday pile... every time I ran my fingers through my hair, out it came.

I didn't wake up to a pile on my pillow, but Tuesday morning I took a shower. It looked like a rat had died in my shower by the time I was done.
Then... because I am something of a "Picker"... you know ... like I pick at my nail polish when it starts to chip.... I started really working through my hair. I thought... somewhat delusionally... that if I just got all the loose stuff out, it would stop for a bit.
So I stood next to my sink and kind of "milked" my hair.... you know like milking a cow... I would grab a patch and start just going over it and the hair would come streaming out... like a waterfall.
After about a half hour.... I had this...

and decided enough was enough..... I was not going to spend all day obsessing...
literally pulling my hair out.
So I called my friend and asked her to meet me at the barbershop where my boys get their hair cut (when I don't do it).
I went to Ann's because her dad just went through cancer treatments... so she gets it.
I said... "Hey Ann, Got time to buzz me?"
And so she did. Down to about a half inch.
So at least when I read my book and pulled at my hair the next couple days, I only got little stacks of these...
{Sorry... not a good picture...}
Thursday, Ben got home from school and told me it looked like I had a "hair maze" on my head... you know... where the hair is just the outline for the bald-headed maze.
So I buzzed it down to nothing... Sadly, this is all I had left to buzz... it's on a washcloth.
The stubble bothered me, so the next morning I got out these...

And now I look like this....

Around the house, I go bald/comfortable.... At least I have a decent shaped head. I do have a little bump on the top and a mole on the back that I didn't know was there. Oh well.

Having no hair messes with my temperature, so sometimes my head is cold & I cover it... then 2 minutes later... I am so warm I can't stand it. Weird.

I am not "wigging." I do like my scarves though.

My dear husband calls this my "Pirate Girl" look.... "Arrrrgh!"

I do love the big earrings though!

I Think I Need A 12-Step Program ASAP

This is my stash. Completely covering my queen size bed.

I wonder if there is a local chapter of Yarn Whores Anonymous?

Funky cotton. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it, but it makes me think of saddle shoes and poodle skirts for some reason. Just too fun to leave in the store.

Generally I never buy this brand. It's itchy. However, my 10-year-old wanted to crochet a hat and scarf out of it so I have 3 skeins. After one brief attempt on his part, this has been added to my project list.

Some actual wool. The pink/brown was for Granola Heather. The off-white tweedy one was made into a natural-fiber, non-girly wrap for Dr. Kristin. It had that nice turquoise as trim. The purple is as yet unassigned, but it will have that dark (blue/burgundy/brown/purple) varigated with it. The two little skeins are a soooo soft merino wool blend for Granola Heather to make me a hat or two for my soon-to-be-bald head. I really dislike pastels; I need color!

Micheal's was having a yarn sale and I found these lushy varigateds. I love the one on the lower left; it feels like summer. The pink one might end up for my grandma. She likes pink.

Yarn sale strikes again. Nice purple and a green to go with above-summery-varigated.

Caron Simply Soft. Totally acrylic (fake/man-made) but really soft. What do you think... plain pink or varigated for Grandma? I have a striped pattern that is going to be so awesome with these vibrant colors. My mom got a birthday shawl in that turquoise with black accent.

Yes, I'm sorry to say, that is Vanna White. Vanna's Choice. Works up well and those one-color-with-white mixtures are really pretty. Again, black for accent. Really makes the other colors "POP."

And my homespun collection. The ones in the top row have all been "shawled" already, as has the second from the left. I had a request for another one in that gold-blend so I had to get some more. Personally, I think it's kind of ugly, but the woman I gave it to loves it and her co-worker liked it so much she asked for one in the same color. To each their own I guess. I love the others though.

And somewhere is a plastic bag with some BEAUTIFUL blue varigated that I splurged on last week... just for me....

Now, if only I could find it...

Shawl #20 was handed out today. It was the red homespun with some of that lighter red varigated on the edges. It made a few people smile. God is good.

A Quick Update

I know that some of you are looking for an update on me and my surgery.

I wish I had something super-inspiring to share.... but I don't.

I am doing as well as can be expected, I think. The physical recouperation isn't as bad this time around as it was last time. I have a 15 inch incision from the back of my underarm area to just past the midpoint of my chest. It is stapled shut. I have a surgical drain through tomorrow. It sounds and looks way bad, but although I am exceptionally tired, I am not in a huge amount of pain.

I walked with my husband all the way to the corner and back yesterday; we live in the middle of the block. About 2 houses down, Tom asked if I wanted to stop and say "Hi" to the neighbors.... I couldn't. I just needed to go home. I was done.

I had a major emotional meltdown... well several of them actually.... Saturday. That was the day I could take my bandages off and take a shower. I thought I was prepared... but I looked in the mirror and just cried.

Then I cried my way through the shower.

Then I cried to my mom.

Then later... I cried to my husband, actually I finally cried myself to sleep with him rubbing my head.

I woke up to a better day.

So how am I doing? I don't really know how to answer that, except that I'm doing.

Stupid Boobs

I have thought long and hard how to title this post. I think "Stupid Boobs" is as close as I'm going to get right now. Now some of you may think that I am referring to some mentally challenged lame-brain that cut me off in traffic or something, but I am in fact referring to ... well... boobs.

Boobs come in all shapes and sizes. I have always longed for perky D-cups, but we all know that those don't really exist except in SiliconeWorld. What I have ended up with is a gargantuan size... well, H... I think. {I have in fact been up to a J which is repulsive, but I think I am at an H now.} Very nice and jiggly and I can never go anywhere without a bra, including my living room, unless I have a couple layers (like a heavy sweatshirt) on.

Boobs are useful for a time. Mine fed all of my children. My husband certainly enjoys them. I really don't like carrying them around all that much, but my chiropractor appreciates the business they cause him. I regularly have to go have my back and neck adjusted to deal with lugging 12-15 pounds around on my front.

Right now, I HATE MY STUPID BOOBS!

Last Friday, while changing my clothes, I found a lump. Freaked out. Tried to pretend it didn't actually exist. Didn't mention it to anyone.

Saturday, I called the nurse at the clinic about the supposedly-nonexistent-but-annoyingly-still-there lumpy boob; really I was just hoping she could get me in for my annual poke-and-probe a little quicker than the usual 6 weeks it takes to get an appointment. She said, "It really should be evaluated. Come in this morning." Cried. Told my husband.

The very lovely, very thorough Nurse Practitioner I saw validated my stupid non-existent boob lump and sceduled me for a mammogram.

"Great!" I thought. "Hello, Boob Pancake."

The one good thing about mega boobs though is that mammograms are really not heinous. You see, they put your boob on a shelf and then squish it into a nice pancake shape, take a picture, rearrange, re-squish, etc. My boob more than willingly sits on a shelf, and -let's just be honest here- is more flop than full anymore. Pancake... no problem.

Mammogram was Wednesday morning. The radiology tech told me before she started that she would run the pics over to the doc at the hospital (literally, next door) and don't be surprised if he wants an ultrasound. "They almost always want an ultrasound with a lump, so don't freak out." Of course, he wanted an ultrasound. They'll work me in.

Off to the hospital (next door) I go and get an ultrasound. Followed by a needle biopsy of the "worrisome nodule" they found. Surgeon talks to me. Surgeons always give you the results of these things aparently. Results Friday afternoon. {By the way, a "needle biopsy" is way more than it sounds like.}

Thursday,results in early. 4:30 appointment with the surgeon. 4:45 p.m.... Surgeon says, "You definitely have a breast cancer."

I kind of knew already. From the moment I felt the supposedly-non-existent lump... I knew. I felt it. That this was not "nothing" like most lumpy 35-year-old boobs turn out to be. It didn't matter. I still didn't know what to say...

I mean...

What do you say to that? I'm 35, ok almost 36, but still. I have no family history of any kind of cancer. I don't smoke or drink. I breastfed my babes. All that stuff is supposed to protect me, right? Aparently not in my case.

So my friends, and my family, I am in for a fight. When you are my age, breast cancers tend to grow quicker and be more aggressive. We are treating it quickly and aggressively.

I go in for an MRI on Tuesday, surgery to remove the lump and check lymph nodes on Thursday. If lymph nodes are involved and/or if they don't find clear tissue margins when they do the pathology work-ups from the surgery, that means more surgery. After surgery, 6 months of chemo. After chemo, 6 weeks of radiation.

Winston Churchhill gave a speech in June 1940, when Europe was getting totally anhialated by the Germans, that talked about how the fight needed to go on. So that 1000 years from now, people would talk about their fight and say from the midst of their struggle against the enemy came "their finest hour."

This quote is what my wonderful husband told me about last night when I asked what he was feeling. He said the doctors say that 2010 is going to be a sucky year for me, but he thinks it will be my finest hour. How sweet the victory will be. Vanquishment of the enemy in the darkest of times. My enemy is cancer.

Earlier this week, one of my friends who knew what was going on, emailed me to tell me she was praying... and specifically what she was praying. I thought is was so well put and beautiful. These are the prayers I ask for from all of you...

"...peace of mind; assurance that God is in control and will work His best for you; that somewhere deep inside, the joy still lives – lending strength through the fear and uncertainty; that the Great Physician will find that His will is that you be healed of any problem there may be.

I’ve included Tom in my prayer because the husband goes through a whole spectrum of emotions, too. (Even though he may not admit it!)"
{-And please add my sons in here. They now know what's going on... and IT'S. JUST. HARD. }

I know that God has a plan for me. I am glad for that and I accept it. I know that good will come out of this somehow. That being said, I don't have to like it! I hope to get through the coming months with as much grace and joy as I can possibly find. I know you all will be here to help.

Thanks for Today - A Great Big Cyber-Hug for All You Fellow Blogger-Moms

I don't know if anyone else reads random blogs of people they don't know, but I do. I start at someone I know, then look at their sidebar, see a post title that looks interesting, and before I know it I am reading about the crazy life of a complete stranger. One such blog gave me the idea to practice some November gratitude, blogger-style. So every day (that I have time/ remember) I'm going to blog some gratitude.

Today I am thankful for all my fellow mom-bloggers. It's amazing to me when I read about those I know and love, and the complete strangers, how similar many of our struggles are and yet how unique and gifted each of these special women are.

I was reading a Christian fiction series recently called "The Sister Circle." It was about women: how we are made to be compassionate nurturers, how God loves each of us, has a plan for each of us, and how intertwined our paths really are.

So Thank You, women of the blogging world. Thank you for sharing your joys and sorrows, triumphs and tragedies, and little windows into your worlds. You have surely enriched mine.

Small Addiction

{I wish I knew why my camera won't upload pictures so I could show the photographic evidence for the post. ARGH!}

Anyway, Monday morning, I was feeling very out of the loop after a long weekend with no compuuter, so I put some water on to boil for Cream of Wheat -still a favorite comfort food- and sat down to quickly check my email and the blogs I read. Some time later, I smelled a distinctive "hot" smell.... you know, like when your curling iron has been on too long or something has dripped in your oven and is now smoking madly. I suddenly remembered my breakfast plan and quickly checked the stove. I had boiled the pan dry! All I had left was a nice area of hard water scum and a very hot pan. I had to take a picture of course... so sad the camera is rebelling. Do they have therapy for blogging addiction?

Sleep & Leaves

With my new work hours, I have an entirely different relationship with sleep. A.K.A. I can't ever seem to get enough, even on my days off. I worked Monday night, but I don't go in again until Saturday night. So yesterday (Tuesday morning... otherwise known as when-I-get-off-work-from-Monday) I took Rob & Jake to school and then went and got some badly needed groceries. I got home and put away the must-be-cold things and then I went to sleep and slept 10:30 am - 3 pm. The kids got home and I went about the usual evening stuff. Bedtime came and I was out like a light somewhere around 10:30 pm. Got up with my hubby at 4:30 am and made him some coffee (the {almost} ultimate act of love), then stayed awake and read. By 11, I am falling asleep.... UGH!

So when I took the dog out, I decided to stay out and rake some leaves....

We have a huge maple tree in out front yard that I absolutely love. The only thing that would make it better would be if the leaves turned a brilliant red, or even orange, in the fall instead of a nondescript yellow. Bu anyway... my front yard was relatively covered in leaves. The back yard is too, but to a lesser extent and will havt to be another day.

I was raking them out to the street when I started thinking about fall when I was a kid. We lived out in the country on about an acre of land that bordered a patch of pine woods on one side. In the front yeard, we had 3 big trees; I think they were oak, but my kid-mind didn't store details like that. I used to LOVE fall. We had leaves everywhere. I remember spending whole days out playing in the leaves, making piles and jumping in-swinging into-burying each other under them. I would also go down to the old lady down the street's yard and play in her leaves so my brothers and sister wouldn't mess up my creations. You see, I would use the leaves to design a house (walls, furniture, the works) and then play in them.

I have no idea what the ultimate destination of my childhood leaf piles was... here in town, we just get them out into the street and they come down the street with a bobcat and a big vacu-sucker machine.

But... I was feeling notstalgic....So, while my neighbors all have their leaves neatly in the street or just mysteriously vanished, I raked mine into a BIG pile in the middle of the yard. An afterschool surprise for my boys.

~~I hope they enjoy it 'cuz my arms and shoulders are killing me!~~

The New Schedule

So... I really like my job. The hours take some getting used to, but I am doing pretty well with that so far. (I seem to sleep really well every other day.) One of the residents today told me I was "a good girl." I take that as very high praise from her. I've also decided that getting Parkinson's disease now ranks high in the list of things I fear the most.

My "Cake Lady" hat is back on too. I was asked to make a clown cake for a women's retreat this weekend. I got the basic design sketched last night at work and spent some time looking at pictures of clown faces. I'll post a picture of the finished product next week. Unless of course it totally flops, then there will be no photographic evidence.

Good News, but.... Scary?

So, I am excited to announce that I have a job.



I had interviewed 2 different places; this is not the one I planned to take. I don't know why God wants me here, but I am sure that this is where I need to be right now. I was waiting for over an hour before my interview (the Director of Housing was dealing with "a situation"). The Director of Nursing, who did the initial interview, finally came by and got things going.



She started out by saying, "We'd like to hire you." I felt such peace, such confirmation that it was the right thing. She didn't mention that she wanted me for night shift until later. By then it was too late for me to back out; I already had my answer. I try not to argue with God too much; even if I win... well it's usually much more difficult than if I had just listened in the first place, so here we are.

This is a very good thing for our family financially right now. I am entering the health care field which I am excited about (at the bottom of the food chain, of course, but that's OK). It's close to home. It pays well. It's got good benefits and a 401K. I don't have to wear scrubs. The facility is beautiful. The management team seems really great; the head of the facility is actually a good friend of a good friend, which is reassuring. All this is good, but I am still majorly stressed and aprehensive.

What makes me really nervous is that I am going to be working the NOC shift... which means, I put my kids to bed, snuggle with my sweetie a bit, then head off to work, and work 11 p.m. until 7:30 a.m. Then I come home, kiss my kiddos good-bye before school, maybe drive the older ones to school, and then come home, have breakfast, and try to go to sleep til they get home and wake me up.



Now, I know that lots and lots of people work third shift. It's not that I think I'm too good for that or anything; in fact, I offered to work nights. I'm absolutely petrified of failure, and I'm worried that I won't be able to handle this. I LOVE SLEEP! I'm not sure 6 or 7 hours is going to cut it. And what about the weekends? What if I fall asleep in the middle of the shift? (There's a workout room in the lower level and I may go get my blood pumping before my shift and on my lunch break to help me stay awake.)



I have also not been married long enough that I don't care whether or not I sleep with my husband. And frankly, I don't plan to ever become that way. I love snuggling with my hubby. I love that we still sleep tangled and roll over to find each other even in sleep, even if it's just with fingers or toes. I'm going to miss that 5 nights a week.



I'm not sure when I start at this point, but it will be soon, probably within the next week. I know God has a purpose in this new adventure far from my comfort zone. Wish He would clue me in on what it was...

Blogging Slackeritis

I have some guilt over my summer case of Blogging Slackeritis. I have friends and family who have moved and had babies and other ambitious stuff and still managed to keep their blogs somewhat updated. And while I read everyone else's lives on a regular basis, I just haven't managed to update mine. But with my children back in school, and the fact that I am not working a paying job yet, I really have no excuse.

So... a few updates for those of you who actually read this... I am absolutely horrible about remembering to take pictures, but I did find a few.

Summer is church camp season around our house, and this year was no exception.

This was our Vacation Bible School group in the end of June. The front scene was supposed to be an oasis with palm trees (put it together for $4...pretty proud of that). It was a fun week with the kids, and all the adults that helped were really great to work with. Ben is upfront in the yellow (his t-ball shirt); Alex is on the middle-right in the stripes; and Jake is in the middle-back in the light-colored tie-dye.


A couple weeks later was Camp Tenderfoot, which is a 4-day camp for kids ages 8-11. The couple I'm standing with brought this insane 3-D puzzle which we worked on during our down time. Since they did the programming and I did the cooking, I had more down time. I seem to have inhereited my mother's addiction to jigsaw puzzles, becasue I was determined to have it done before the end of the camp. I think we got it done the last night, about 11:30.


And now for the boys...



No, this is not a mugshot, this is the first baby I birthed. It's often hard for me to believe that he is starting to look like such a man. Rob's stats... 6'2" tall, about 190 lbs, size 15 (or 13 EE) shoes. He started out as this... well, this was about 4 months old... isn't he cute!!


Jake is a budding teenager, and I'm sure within a year or so I will be lamenting him growing up (literally). Our friend had a costume party in June right after school got out. Since the boys had their mohawks, we let them be punk rockers.


Jake added our spare dog collar and a chain leash (from when Zeke was a pup and used to chew on the cloth ones). Someone at the party dubbed his costume "Freak On A Leash" whick Jake thought was very cool.

Ben's was different colored on each side. He did wear a shirt.

Alex's photo op actually came on the first day of school. He got home to find this huge toad outside in our carport.
He enjoyed holding it for awhile until he realized it had pee'd all over his hand... and I really mean ALL over (who knew toads had bladders that big?) which I totally laughed at. Is frog pee still considered wart-inducing? Hee Hee

And, of course, because I'm a sap for my puppy... I had to include one of my puppy.


The Babe is my friend's Lovey who incidentally shares Zeke's birthday. Lovey is 1; Zeke is 3. So the Babe and his big sis Flower were hanging out at my house one day. Zeke found a toy of the Babe's that he thought was really fun. The Babe thought Zeke was really fun and he kept following the pup around the living room. Zeke finally retreated to the top of the couch where the Babe could just holler at him, but couldn't reach him to smack him in the face and pull on his ears. It was pretty funny.

I am immensely grateful to Grandma Sandy for the few days respite when she took the kids on a sight-seeing trip to St. Louis and stuff. She came home very ready to give them back; she doesn't miss long car trips with kids (and the constant squabbling that goes on in the back seat).

Multitasking 101

For the record, books on CD from the library are an awesomely good thing. I love to read, but I often find myself so enthralled by a good novel that I neglect everything else in my house... little things like laundry and dishes, and big things like my kids and fixing meals. Now... I MULTITASK! I "read" my books on CD while I fold laundry and do dishes and bake birthday cakes (yes, the Cake-Lady strikes again). And the CDs are broken up into 3-minute tracks, so it's pretty easy to find my place again if the boys need something. Reading indulgence without the guilt! Ahhhh!! How cool is that!!

Sticker Shock

I ran to the store for a few items the other day. While I was there I had the realization that school was getting out and I have to feed my kids lunch everyday from here on out. $300 later....Goodbye grocery budget.

My heart goes out to my homeschooling friends who do that year-round.... I really like the fact that mine eat lunch at school and it's one less meal to cook and one less set of dishes to do. How spoiled I am!

A Fun Tradition & Updates

A Fun Tradition...

Because I have all boys, I save a lot of money on haircuts with some very basic "buzzing" skills and a decent set of clippers. They all get buzzed every summer and sometimes in between. Something that has become a tradition is the "Last-Day-Of-School Mohawk." Today, being the last day of school, 3 of them got designer mohawks.

As my cute boys....

And as "My Homeboys"

Rob, at 14, is aparently too old for this nonsense. Translates to: Some girl told him he should let his hair get a little longer cuz it would be cuter... UGH! Oh, and Jake doesn't really have his ear pierced. It's magnetic; a flashing duck mascot from the baseball game they went to last night.






Update #1: Treehouse



View from the outside, the floor is 9' off the ground. They climb up to the top of that ladder and heft themselves up inside. We have become one of the most popular places in the neighborhood for boys... and we have alotta boys around here.

Views from the inside,

complete with carpet and quite a nice roof.
and ... Yes, Alex & Jake have already slept out in it.



Update #2: "Happy Wife, Happy Life"

And Round #1 of the Paint Wars goes to Cassie, because (as my wise husband says) "Happy Wife, Happy Life." So my living room is becoming blue. That is Blue... not another shade of not-quite-white that maybe kinda looks a little blue-ish in the right light... but blue... that looks BLUE! It took a year of patience, non-nagging patience by-the-way... but I got my way.


Maybe patience really is a virtue...
hmmm... who knew!?

My Love, My Boys, and a Treehouse

When I met my husband he was 48. He had no children and hadn't really planned to have any. But we fell in love and he knew that I was a package deal. None of my boys have any contact with their biological counterparts. It's "inconvenient" for my ex to have a relationship with his sons. Bubba was an unexpected blessing; unfortunately his other half has never really viewed him that way. So essentially, none of them had fathers, just chromosome donors. (I do get some financial support from my ex for the boys, but he would even like to stop that if he could.)

When My Love and I married, he had just turned 50; I was 32. He is such a gift from God to me and my children. Anyone who knows him, knows that he doesn't do things halfway. He has approached his fatherhood in the same fashion he does everything else. All or nothing.

Whether he planned to be a Dad or not, he's very good at it.

Last week was spring break for the boys. I still had classes MWF, so My Love spent most of the week with the boys working on a project. Did I mention My Love is a carpenter?

We have 3 pine trees in our little backyard, set in the back corner in a triangle. He "helped" the boys build an awesome treehouse. Well, a 3-tree-house actually. The first step was a platform.

Next came the walls. They built them on the ground and hefted them up.
Once up, the side walls were nailed in place.
The end walls were built up on the platform.

The door is a trapdoor in the floor.

The windows are similar, cut out of the walls and hinged down.

And then everybody helped paint.

We've even had our first official treehouse injury when Monkey Boy didn't realize that The Thinker hadn't closed the door after he left and he stepped in it and almost fell out of the treehouse and 8' to the ground.

He caught himself and was fine after a couple days of sore ribs and a lesson in "Watch Where You Walk" and "Respect for the Treehouse." It has antibiotic goop on it, so it looks worse than it is. He was pretty bruised though. And very, very lucky.

I realized that I don't have a picture of the finished product, with the roof and everything. I'll have to add that later. The permanent ladder still needs to be installed.... but it's pretty cool!

And God Is So Good, He's So Good To Me!

Taking Care of My Corner

I mentioned this movie in a previous post and that we didn't finish watching it at the 30-Hour Famine. The other day in my local "Big Box" store, it was on the $4 movie rack, so I bought it and watched it the next day. And. I. Cried. I had a shorter clip in here, but I like this one better.



Profanity effectively filtered, the movie points out so well how one person can make a difference.

A very wise friend of mine told me something a couple of years ago that has stuck with me. She was going through breast cancer at the time and I was helping her out a little at the family day care she runs. She was very appreciative of my time. It was really no big deal to me... just a couple hours here and there. We started talking about service. She said....

"If everyone just took care of their little corner of the world, pretty soon there wouldn't be any corners left out."

I've always kind of tried to do this, but I had never had it articulated so well before. God doesn't expect us to take care of the whole world by ourselves. He just expects us to do our part and take care of our corners. The people in your life.... family, friends, neighbors, acquaintances, people you pass on the street, hungry kids in other countries (World Vision put them in my corner).

My corner today includes doing my family's laundry, making them dinner, helping Mr.T. make an apple pie (he's been asking for one for weeks), and throwing together some cookies and rice krispie squares for some friends who are out running in the rain this afternoon training for a marathon (what a bunch of crazies). Hopefully in the midst of all that, I will get my homework done and get prepped for my exam on the respiratory system on Monday.

God honors your priorities... Love your neighbors as yourself. If my corner is taken care of, God helps me with all the school junk.

Inherited Children

I was one of these once. I had a freind in high school that was one of those friends where you adopted the family... well the parents at least. I would walk right in the house and say Hi Mom! Hi Dad! and head on upstairs to find my pal.

I'm so happy that my son has one of those and I seemed to have inherited another child from down the block. Mr. T is a little redneck, but I love him. And I love that he knows he can walk right in and say Hi Mom!

Because that's the kind of mom I wanted to be... I wanted our home to be where the kids wanted to hang out because there was just something warm and inviting about it.... it's not ritzy... it's rarely clean for more than 2 seconds at a time.... but there's always a smile and usually cookies... not a bad reputation to have. Welcome to the family Mr. T. I hope you are just the first of many inherited children.