2012

It's that time again, New Years Resolutions will be half heartedly made, people will sing Auld Lang Syne, and most will get drunk enough not to remember the night at all - truth be told I'm a little envious. But it seems fitting that I'm ending 2011 - and all that it brought - here in the comfort of my home, writing a blog, and drinking the one beer I have left in my house. Most people I know are hoping for a better year then the one they just had, or bravely exclaiming how they'll miss this year and how it was the best one yet.

I'm neither of these people. I have fallen into a weird category. I truly suffered this year - I now have an intimate relationship with fear itself - an understanding what it means to love someone even while questioning whether it was prudent to do so.  There were moments where I believed my youngest son might be lost, moments where I questioned how my life had fallen so far down the rabbit hole, moments where I begged God - sobbing on my knees - to save him, save us. Without an answer given, or perhaps one not readily heard, I vowed that I would never give less then I had given to Gabriel and Eden, and I loved in a way I had not known was possible...I truly loved without condition. This little boy gave me such a gift even while dragging me through hell and back.

2011 brought me to the brink of despair, shoved me to my knees, forced me to enjoy precious little moments I had once over looked. I couldn't see it then, my vision was still clouded with the intense fear I fought on a near daily basis, but I was changed. 2011 is the first year I have not felt regret, the one year whose resolutions where merely about love, the year that was the worst and the very best.

2011 is not a year I would like to repeat, but it is a year I will never forget. And so on towards 2012, and all the moments it will bring!

Hoping for B9

I received my test results (the ultrasounds) from my lovely little lumps. The left lump looks like a fibroadenoma (Benign mass) and hasn't changed size or shape over the two years I've had it! Yay, Left boob! Way to be healthy. My right breast is an asshole. The lump recently discovered due to tenderness has "an Irregular shape" and "needs to be biopsied" to rule out cancer. That was not the news I was hoping for over the holidays!

I admit I'm now stressed out about this new development. I've been googling like mad, mainly looking for other people's stories, reading through blogs, testing out this new landscape I now find myself standing on. Some people's stories are inspirational and full of hope and they claim cancer gave them a second chance to really live their life full of appreciation and blah, blah, blah. This is something I understand. But I've taken that journey. I walked it with Preston. Was his heart defect a blessing in disguise? No it was a fucking pain in the ass, but it did force me to walk a line I hadn't considered before. It forced me to start living in the moment. I can't claim that was easy in the beginning, or something easily sustainable, life is life after all and you can't live like mother Teresa all the god damned, live long day; but I refused to walk away from that hell unchanged. I needed it to have meaning.

So would cancer be a blessing in disguise? No it would be a fucking pain in the ass. But I hope that I would find something in it, something good, that I could walk away with. So if this lump is cancer I'll deal with it, I'll fight it, and I'll turn it into something it's not, something worth it.

But for now, I just hope that this lump is benign because dragging something beautiful from the dark, annals of cancer, is not a quest I'm looking to take.

I'm just a stay at home mom...

I hate meeting new people. I admit I'm a bit of a homebody to begin with; but in general I just hate the idea of small talk, and the awkward feigned interest in other's peoples lives. A few drinks down the hatch usually eases the uncomfortable silences but the worst part of every new conversation, at least for me, comes when they ask the inevitable question "what do you do?"

Whenever anyone asks this particular question I smile broadly, talk about my beautiful kids, and murmur under my breath that I'm a "stay at home mom". Unless you are speaking with another "non working" mother, the general consensus is that being a stay at home mom is not really something you do. It's at this point people usually smile uncomfortably and then ask me what I did before I had children; as though whatever I did before I gave birth and decided to raise my own kidlets was somehow more worthy of their interest, and of greater societal value. Of course when I answer "chambermaid" they look as though they want to run away from me, as though they have found the bottom rung of society and must detach themselves from my side, lest they be led down the road of mediocrity too. But I digress...

Why do people act as though I must be someone who is lazy, or stupid, or unwilling to have a "real job" when I say I raise my own kids? And let me just be clear that it's not something that is easy, or comes naturally - child rearing. The learning curve is huge. You aren't just wiping butts, feeding, cleaning, and putting them to bed; which by the way, isn't a piece of cake, but people seem to think motherhood amounts to chambermaiding, and nannying. It's does not.  I stay at home with my kids and teach them things like cooperation, dispute resolution, manners, morals and values, ethics, and in case it's not something that is inherent at birth in all human beings, I also make sure that I establish in them a conscience, a sense of sympathy, and when applicable feelings of empathy.

My "job" may not be a paying one. I may not have an established career that brings in a measurable incremental amount of income. But I contribute more to the sustainability of our society than even my lovely cop of a husband does. For I am an active member in my children's lives.  I am the mediator, the general, the boss and caretaker of the next generation.

But no, it's not a job, and if you really want to put a label on it, than I suppose it's more of an art form. I am creating beautiful little pieces of art. And I alone have the creative license to do that in a way I see fit. I can change palette's when things aren't working properly. I can brush in broader strokes when life is moving a little too fast. I can meticulously add a bit of shading, or infuse some light to the lessons in life, whenever I need too and whenever I want.

What do I do? Hell. What don't I do? I'm a Stay At Home Mom.

My lovely little lumps

Her fingers probe my breasts with expert hands and I am surprised and relieved to discover that her hands are warm. She then asks me to lay on my back, arm over my head and I oblige and she talks nonchalantly about my life, my kids, their ages, and that my tummy is nearly stretch mark free; how nice for me. She goes on to check the lymph nodes under my arm and apologizes for any discomfort I may feel from the ever increasing pressure of her fingertips. After we are finished she asks me to get dressed and to join her in the room across the hall.

Her office is cozy, and the chairs are comfortable. She starts off by saying that the lumps are not cysts, and from the ultrasound on my left breast's lump, she believes them to be fibroadenomas - benign tumours. The odds are - she tells me - a 99% probability that the lumps are not cancer. Immediately she knows her mistake, we had just finished talking about my youngest son, the 100 to 1 statistic - the Congenital heart defect baby.

"That is to say - I feel really good that you have nothing to worry about", she corrects herself. "But I would still like to have them biopsied, as much as for my own charts as for your peace of mind".

I agree to the procedure because if there is a small possibility that it's cancer, then it's still a possibility that needs to be investigated, no matter the likelihood. That being said, I'm not too worried. No matter the outcome, I can't predict the future, nor can I prevent it from happening. I used to be a person so hung up on the "what ifs" of life, so worried about what tomorrow would bring, that I never enjoyed 'today'. So now I try not to waste the "todays" I have, on the things I can't control.

These bothersome lumps are probably not cancer, I won't know for sure until the biopsy results are in, but either way it goes, one day at a time still seems like the best mantra to have.

My journey through the dark

This time last year the doctor's were telling me that my little Preston had holes in his heart. It's a funny feeling walking a line between joy and sorrow, courage and fear, hope and despair. I remember thinking that I was just so fucking inadequate to the challenges being set before me. I looked into my little guy's eyes and I didn't have anything I could promise him. There was no guarantees, no whispered assurances that were good enough; it was all so big, and I was just so ill prepared for the seemingly insurmountable trek in front of us. I remember begging God to show me the future. I wanted so much to know there would be an end to the nightmare. If only I could catch a glimpse of Preston in front of his first birthday cake, happy, and healthy - alive...then maybe I could face another day in the dark.

But there would be no easy answers, no promises made to me by doctors or God. I faced everyday as though it were his last for the first six months of his life, and the sadness faded. I hadn't expected that. But every new moment, every new day I was granted with him became...enough. And I know how cliche it all sounds...But the world is like crystal now. Clear, and beautiful, and easily shattered.

Charles Dickens once wrote, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us..." And this was the context of my life for an endless brief period of time. Never before have I understood the ironic contradiction that is life so fully and completely.

Did you know...that the dark can illuminate your path?

My darkness did...and for a moment I could see through the eclipse, and it was so terribly wonderful.

The Eff Word

"Fuck me" I mumble under my breath as I pull the charred remnants of our dinner from the oven. Everything had been timed perfectly; dinner would have been delicious. But there are moments in life that can't be planned for. When my daughter's unfortunate fall caused her recent bowel movement to explode from her diaper all over my carpet and walls....priorities changed. I had no choice but to leave dinner and clean up her mess. Now twenty minutes later and with the smell of poo still lingering in the air I concede that dinner is ruined. Cereal is served and I eat toast for supper.

After cleaning up the kitchen I ask Gabe if he would like to work on his words. Recently we've seen his speech therapist and the doctor noticed he was having trouble with his S blend words. Gabe jumps at the chance to be my center of attention and we begin the hard work of pronunciation. While we are working on "Snowmobile" Eden grabs for the pile of paper word pictures and snatches "Snake" from the table top. Gabe grabs her wrist, viper quick and with a boa's strength, squeezes her tiny arm and shouts, "Don't fucking do that Edie". My mouth drops open as I pry them apart and take the picture from her hand.

"Gabriel, you are not allowed to say the Eff word in my house!" I state while feeling all the bit of the hypocrite I am. Confusion is written all over his face and I realize he can't spell and so I can't stop him from saying the word without repeating the word myself. An ironic hypocrite I have become when I explain once more that the word "fucking" is a bad word and should not be said...by anyone.

"Any person who says the bad word will have to go for a time out!" Gabe's eyes nearly bulge from their sockets as he asks, "You too?" I hang my head while I consider the implications of handing such power over to a three year old...but if I want him to change...then so must I. "Yes, me too" I mumble. I can only hope I'm not creating a monster and instead, I'll be instilling in him that even adults have to pay for their mistakes.

It's almost time for bed and so I pack up Gabe's words while thinking ruefully...S blend words are troublesome for him....

Mother shitter...

Nah, It just doesn't have the same ring to it.

Fuck.

Birthday baby.

Dear Preston,

In a baby's first twelve months of life he will learn a lot of new skills. You have learned to sit up, to eat solid foods, to crawl, and you even took your first steps. I cheered you on through all of it and I was over joyed with each new success. But you are more than your milestones, Preston. You are Truth; a pure and simple, but intricate truth.

It seems that every one of us is searching for the next best thing. We want a bigger house, a faster car, an upgrade for our cell phone; what we have is never good enough and what we need is always more, more, more. My goals, and needs, and wants weren't much different than most; although I liked to believe they were. I was a person that thought she appreciated what she had - who believed she understood what was most important in life...

But our minds play tricks on us, and we are fooled into believing that time isn't real and that tomorrow will always come. Somewhere along the line we begin to believe there's time enough for anything, what a fallacy; such a deception.Your one year here has taught me how much knowledge I had, but how very little understanding I possessed. The truth is - there are no second chances. We don't get a do over. What can be done today should be done today. If you have an apology to make, make it. If you have an emotion to express, express it. If you have a life to lead, for god sake's lead it and stop following those few who claim to have all the answers.

People live in a world of excuses, and half truths. They rarely live in the moment and instead prefer to live in a future that is never guaranteed. They devote themselves to a God they claim to know, or to money they revere, or to kings they want to be like and I no longer understand why. You blew my world apart kid, in one year you shattered it to pieces, and now I find the puzzle larger than it was when I started. Perhaps this is what they mean when people implore you to see the "big picture". My bigger picture is now made up of smaller, simpler snapshots.

These snapshots include taking my kids to the park and watching them play. I want to tell a silly joke and hear their laughter. I want to kiss their tired heads and tuck them in at night, and I want tomorrow to come so I can do it all again.

It's true that I still wish for tomorrow Preston, but you have taught me to live for today.

I love you,

Happy birthday my sweet, simple truth.

Mom.