New things and old things

New: Soccer

So I did something that might turn out to be as dumb as that time a couple of spring breaks ago when I went mountain biking for spring break with the kids.  I joined a co-ed soccer team.

I've never played soccer.  Although, I was mistaken when I told my team last Thur at our first game, that it was the very first time I had ever played.  I remembered later that for Hot Dog's first soccer team, at the end of the season, there was a kids vs parents scrimmage I was on the field for. 

It turns out, not surprisingly, I kinda suck at soccer.  Also, I'm old, fat, menopausal, out of shape, have osteoporosis, and generally am better at laying on a couch reading a book than anything involving sports ball.

That said, despite our team loosing 13-0, only playing the first half, being not only wiped after that, but flat on my back the next day, I had a great time!   I liked it.  Mostly what I did was get in the way of the opposition as they tried to approach our goal.  Turns out I can do that, at least for a while.  I want to get better at actually moving the ball around.  Maybe, if I keep going, I'll even be not completely wiped after less than an hour of play.  But for now, I'm pretty happy to have had a good time and be on a team where not a single soul mentioned how I was the worst player, but rather a couple of team mates pointed out things I did right.  They're good people.

As a team member said "I'm glad you're doing something that is a stretch for you"

Old/New: Trip to Indiana to see family:
The very week after Hot Dogs school let out we drove to Indiana to stay at a house on a lake and visit with family near there.  It was lovely to see them again, they might not all like each other perfectly, but I like and love them.  I lucked out on the in-law thing, despite our political and religious differences.

And Indiana is beautiful.  It really is.  I had no idea.  It's lush and glorious, frogs chorus all night, there were ducks and swans on the lake.  I got to rescue a fledgling purple martin from the lake and take it back to what I was hopeful was it's home.  I can why it would be a good place to raise a family, although given all the Trump and anti-abortion signs I can also see why it would be a hard place to live too.

New:
Bit Boy graduated college in May (in 3 years, w/ honors - mama brag), moved into his own place in the big city an hour from here, and started a full on grown up job in June.  He's moving off our insurance, now I'm wondering when he can take his drum set with him. 

New:
Lego Kid graduated high school in May and will start engineering school in Aug.  I honestly didn't expect him to go into engineering, but I can see how if it works for him, he would be excellent at it.

New:
Hot Dog finished middle school in May and will be going to high school in the fall.  He continues on with his music and sports.  He's moved from being sure he was going to be lawyer to thinking he'll become a police officer, or join the military, or be a fireman, or maybe a scientist.  He's been focused on law since he was 8, so it's kind of a relief to see him being a kid.

Old:
We're still here, same home, Fire-Lord is still "retired" and working plenty of volunteer hours.  The garden still needs never ending work.  No family or close friend has died for a couple of years.  I kind of love that.

So, that happened....

Boy, 2016, it's been some year.

We've had some big changes in our house, and, gawd help us, some big changes in our country.

The ascendancy of Trump changes everything.  It changes how I look at my fellow citizens, 24% of whom voted for a known sexual predator, a self-professed racist, and a reasonably incompetent and demonstrably amoral businessman.  It changes my  assumption that I knew what "long" meant when Theodore Parker said "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice."  It changes my complacency about social and political involvement. 

I could write for days, months, on the effects we're already seeing from the 2016 election.  I might,  but right now I'm still processing this.  Trying to get my feet under me, trying to understand, trying to figure out how to be most effective and support those who are already feeling this seismal shift in our national expression of democracy. 

I. Can't. Even.

So, I'll sequester that for a bit, and think more immediately.

The biggest change for us personally this year is that Firelord accepted an early retirement package last spring.  His high tech employer was reducing their workforce and he qualified for early retirement.  That was way better then those who simply were laid-off.  (He came in one Monday morning and some really excellent engineers were missing.  That certainly didn't encourage him to stay.) We felt the timing was good, we have some savings, the Affordable Care Act meant that we could be insured even if we didn't have an employer's group policy.  Firelord could have some time with our last 2 boys before they leave home for good, give some time to the local Maker Space, think about starting his own business or consulting firm.  I could work on my own pursuits a little more. (You know, after I figured out what my own pursuits might be after all these years of sublimating my personal energy.)  Maybe we could get our house clean. (Shhh.. let a girl have her little fantasies)

Then last Tuesday happened.  He-who-must-not-be-named did what so many of us thought was laughable,  dangerous, impossible.  Today's paper exclaims his new cabinet choices.

I know there are others with bigger more immediate worries.  Compared to our Muslim friends, our black friends and family, our LGBTQ friends and family, we're privileged.  Privileged enough that I sat my boys down and gave each of them another Mama Talk.  We talked about using their privilege for good, the dangers to society (and to their souls) of being a bystander, and how we can safely support each other when we're calling out the forms of bullying.  I hate that I had to do that, I'm ashamed it took so long.  I'm proud that they felt they already knew that.  I'm proud/sad/frightened that Hot Dog chose to wear a safety pin to his pubic school orchestra today. 

I know we're privileged, insulated by our class and my husband's white skin and my ability to (mostly) pass.

Which isn't to say that we're aren't personally affected by this.  Most immediately we no longer can depend on being able to get health insurance when the COBRA runs out.  Stage III cancer is one hell of a pre-existing condition.  The next time I need cancer treatment it could wipe us out. 

We are now looking for ways to make this work.  We'd have to make some serious bank to cover medical costs if we don't have insurance.  Can we do that?  Do we try to start the family business Firelord has in mind?  Does one of us need to go back and work for "the man"?  Which one?  Do I go back to grad school so that I can work (finally) as an engineer?    Dare I write more? Keep up with my volunteer work? 

And can you imagine navigating these changes if you are a person of color in this country?  If you're brown and fellow citizens are shouting at your children to "Go back"?  If your black child comes home from school shaking because a child in her class called her a "nigger"?  These things are happening to people I personally know.

So today I'll remember to be grateful for my 1st world problem of how to get and keep medical insurance, and I'll think about how we can change this country to truly include everyone wholeheartedly.

Cancer treatment - the gift that keeps on giving

It is January. It's cold, dreary, and full of frozen yuck.

Four years ago this month, in January 2012, I was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer.   It was not the worst time of my life, but it was close. My reality changed irrevocably.

I spend that entire year undergoing cancer treatment.  It wasn't as hellish as you might think, mostly due to good drugs, and even better friends and family.  I had at least 4 or 5 surgeries, months of chemo and radiation. I find there are many bits I don't remember.  Watching a video, Firelord will say "We've seen that", but it seems new to me.  The kids will mention something they did, and I have little to no recollection of the incident.  I remember taking trips to Steamboat, meeting my cousins in Yellowstone, girls night in our basement.  I remember over a hundred meals being brought to our house.  I don't remember suffering too much - then.

I suffered more the year after.  That year I was supposed to be relieved and grateful.  My hair started to grow back.  My chemo-yellow skin pinked up.  I looked "normal".  But I didn't feel normal.  I wasn't what I had been.  I needed to sit more, and more often.  My words stuttered and fell unspoken.  My short term memory was no longer sufficient for many every day activities.   I had constant pain, not just from the surgeries, but from peripheral neuropathy.
I looked fine.  I was expected to get back to "normal" life.  I consistently let people down with my inability to meet expectations - myself most of all.

I tried to tell folks, but no one wanted to hear it.  I learned that the only acceptable response to "How are you?" is "fine".  If I told my truth I was "complaining" and after all, "You're alive, right?"  Which was funny, since alive hurts a hell of a lot and didn't always seem to be worth the price I was paying.

Just before one of the surgeries the nurse asked "DNR?" to which Firelord shouted "NO!"  He told me "You don't get to choose, you have kids."  I wasn't allowed to survive for me.  I didn't survive for me.  I survived for my kids.  To do otherwise was too selfish to be allowed.  Because I was a mother I allowed myself to suffer the torture that is cancer treatment.

Of all the things a cancer patient is supposed to be, selfish isn't one of them.  Cancer patients should be warriors, bravely battling.  Cancer survivors should be happy, grateful for the treatment that probably saved their lives.  Cancer patients should be cheerful, remembering how many people are working to support and save them.  God forbid the patient/survivor notices that the cancer hadn't yet done any harm and that the treatment did significant permanent damage.  God forbid that we ever express impatience with our new limitations and continuing pain.

2013 was a really, really hard year.

2014 was a little better.  By last year, 2015, I realized that this was it.  This was as good as it was going to get.  Three years out - I had made all the improvement I was likely to make from my cancer treatment induced injuries.  It wasn't bad as it was that first year of survival.  Now I've gotten used to it: wrapping my hand every night to minimize the affects of lymphodema, the constant pins and needles of neuropathy,   the joint pain, dry skin, and poor memory caused by the aromitase inhibitor...

I've accepted a new normal, and it's not so bad.   It's not that it's all kittens and rainbows.  It's that I can see past the constant every day pains and discomfort in my body to the every day joys and trials of my life.  Bit Boy will graduate high school this spring.  He is planning on going to university.  Lego Kid is a 9th grader, learning the ropes of high school and exploring a new kind of independence.  Hot Dog is approaching adolescence, but still a boy, my last child.  I get to see them every day.  They still have their mom.  The price I paid for that is high, but not too high.

The effects of cancer treatment are something that I will never be allowed to forget.  But the experience of raising my kids, of getting to see them grow and change, that's something I will never dare forget.

How it is today

It's been too long since I posted! 
Why? 
Because. 
Life.  Kids.  School.  Homeschool.  But mostly because FLL.

Seriously, why did I do this again?  Oh, yea, because Hot Dog begged me to find him a team, and then told me he really, really, REALLY wanted me to be his coach.   You know, like I did for his brothers.  Oh the guilt... so I did - find him a team, and agreed to  co-coach it.  Two weeks in he informed me he hated it and wanted to quit.  Lovely (not).  I had to explain the meaning of commitment, and team work, and sucking-it-up.

Now, today we are 3 days from our local tournament, piled high with extra practices, but we can see the end.  How bad is it that I'm hopeful this team won't go to state?  (not like that last team that I was convinced couldn't go to state, but did)

Homeschooling wise we're deeply enmeshed in FLL meetings, just barely eeking out time for our basic academics and lessons.   We've been so busy I honestly don't have any idea what next semester will look like.  Perhaps there will be a big gaping hole of time that Hot Dog and I will struggle to fill. (She says hopefully)  However, a friend has mentioned an underwater robotics program...

Both my older boys, Bit Boy and Lego Kid, are loving their respective schools.  Lego Kid is in the process of picking out his high school and planning for that next stage of his education, even while he's learning the basics of how to "do school" in his IB middle school.   Bit Boy has scheduled next semester, which will include repeating Calc I.  Not because he was failing but because he's set his sights on one of the most exclusive engineering schools in the USA and wants an solid A on his transcript for this core class.  (Welcome to the politics of college admissions.  Ugh)

One day last month I clocked 134 miles on my car's odometer.  134mi.  It was a Wed, which is our crazy day.  I didn't leave down, I was just being the taxi-mom getting 3 different kids to school, to lessons and home.  No wonder I'm tired and have no time. While Bit Boy bikes between his campuses, I still have some guilt around our fossil fuel use.

That guilt did not stop me from gratefully turning on our gas fireplace last week during our single digit highs, nor did it stop me from driving Bit Boy between his campuses one day (rather than him biking in the 9 degree frozen slush).  I accept that I am contradictory and am a work in progress.

That Awkward Stage

I'm at an awkward parenting stage.  (Well, I'm pretty much always awkward - parenting or otherwise)  This is one of those times when I'm constantly questioning myself and my decisions.

Bit Boy at almost 16 seems nearly independent - making his own schedule, making (pretty good) choices, and generally acting like he's nearly an adult.  Is it appropriate to let him be so independent?  I think so, I think it's good for him to make decisions and live with the consequences - especially since they're fairly non-lethal at this point.  But I feel guilty for it to be so easy to parent him right now.  (Dear Universe, please don't take this as a challenge)

Hot Dog is an impish 9 year old, thrilled with his soccer team (undefeated, thank you very much Coach Joe!), his various lessons and classes, and generally a happy kid.  I worry that I don't give my youngest all the attention that he deserves, but I comfort myself with Firleord.  He was the 5th and last kid in his family.  I think his parents were tired by the time he came and they basically let him alone.  He turned out pretty damn good.

Lego Kid ....  is a bundle of contradictions.  He wants to go to school next year, but not leave the house today - or ever. He wants me to make him do things, but he doesn't want to do anything.  We unschooled until he was 11, at which point he told me "You're too easy on me.  You should make me do things."  So I asked him what I should make him do, we made a list, and now I "make" him do it.  ( I'm confused.  Is it still unschooling if it's at his request?)  He gets mad at me if he doesn't get his academics done, but resents when I make him do them.  I suppose I need to remember that he's 13.  This isn't personal.  If it's this hard for me to deal with him, how much harder is it for him to deal with himself?

But... it does make it more challenging for me to know what the right thing to do is.  My parenting philosophy has always been radical - I treat my children as rational people who know themselves better than I know them and so should have a fair say in their lives.

I have to admit that sometimes it's a mistake to assume they are rational, and that this may be one of those times.

Windy memories

This morning as the wind howls, I found myself in the most unusual position of having a wee bit of time to myself.  After doing a couple of chores and surfing Facebook, I checked on the blogs of a couple of favorite friends - and realized how very long it had been since we'd all hung out together.  I have happy memories of times at the river and parks, splashing, talking, laughing.  It wasn't really so long ago.

Friendships, and life, seem to go in phases.  You don't always know that you're in a phase, and often don't realize when you're leaving it, but in retrospect it can be very clear.  That time in my life with little babies and toddlers - gone.  Most of those friends have long moved on.  That space of time early in our homeschooling career when we found our local homeschooling group, hung out at the library and local parks, and had actual free time - faded away.  That sturdy time of solid homeschooling, when all three boys were close enough together to do pretty  much the same thing, when our schedule was our own to plan, when we had 2 other homeschooling families with kids about the same age who became as close as cousins to us, that's gone now too.

We're in a new stage, but I'm too close to really see the whole of it yet.  My 3 boys are going in different directions, all at once.   Bit Boy is a straight "A" high school/college student.  In the fall he'll be taking 16 credit hours.  While he isn't unkind to his brothers, he rarely has time for them.  Although he is helpful when asked, participates in the family when requested, he is very much independent now. (Well, except for needing rides everywhere...sigh...)  Lego Kid's voice keeps creeping lower as he campaigns to go to the last year of middle school starting next fall.  He still plays with Hot Dog, but less often and with less patience than before.  I can see he's getting his wings ready for some test flights.  Hot Dog has finally found a couple of things all his own (soccer and violin, especially soccer) and is still happy to homeschool.  I'm grateful for that, but I wonder how long it can last when his brothers are away in school all day.  His best bud has decided to go to school next year too.  With me needing to transport his brothers we won't be able to slip down to Denver or up to the mountains for all those fun field trips that are one of the huge benefits of homeschooling.  I would love to keep homeschooling him as long as possible, so I guess I'll need to find a new rhythm there too.

I notice deaths and births in our social circles.  In my own family now we are in a phase of looming deaths as my grandparents generation approaches their 90's and our own children are as yet too young for the rounds marriages and births to start.  That makes me all the more grateful when I see the babies of young friends in life, or even on the social networks. 

Melancholy - that's this morning.

Soccer Mom?

Well.  He went and did it.  Hot Dog (9yo) has made me a soccer mom. 

First, last fall he and Lego Kid begged for soccer, well after the start of the recreational season (of course).  I found a local class for beginners and signed them up for that instead.  That was enough for Lego Kid, but not for Hot Dog.  I got a "get out of jail free" card with winter.  Really, who can play soccer in the winter?  (Shush you 3 on 3 indoor players.  Gawd.  Look at me talking all soccer-y now.)

But, with spring upon us, I had no more excuses.  It was soccer season, and he really, really, REALLY wanted to play soccer - on a team, with other kids, and against other kids.  Lord have mercy.  I let him.  I signed him up, surprised at how affordable soccer is.  $95 for 2 practices and 1 game a week for 8 weeks.  That works out to just over $1/hr of soccer.  Wait.  That's 3x/week of soccer, for 8 weeks.  That's a lot of soccer I'll be driving to.  A lot of late dinners and early morning games.  (Somebody needs to saint me here)

Oh, and it's not so cheap as I thought.  It turns out that kids don't play shirts and skins, you need to buy a league jersey.  And a size 4 ball (we have a size 5, not good enough), and cleats (really?  Yes.), and soccer socks, to go over the soccer shin guards (well, those really are a good idea), and then of course Hot Dog really wanted special soccer shorts to go with it all.

He had his first practice last night and he LOVED it.  Hot Dog is incredibly fit, thin, and active.  Good thing, because not only is he tiny (at 9yo, size 8 is loose on him) but he has asthma.  Staying fit and keeping his lung capacity large will help him physically and mentally.

sigh.... so now he has jujitsu once a week, soccer 3x/wk, instrument lessons 2x/wk, and will have pottery 1x/wk for 5 weeks this spring.  I'm tired just reading that.

Remember when I said I would never be one of those parents who let their kids and family get over scheduled?  ya, it's some weird sort of cosmic justice.

Welcome Home?

We've been home just over a month.
Can I just tell you how hard this last month or so has been?  H-A-R-D. 

I have been working, really working, to hold it all together.  I've tried not to be a whiner.  But it's time to just let it all hang out.  I'm going to list why this has been such a challenging time. 
You may not tell me I'm a whiner, you can just shut up and read. 
Or, click away from here, 'cause it ain't pretty.
You've been warned.

About 5 weeks into our trip Fire Lord got a call from a co-worker asking if he could borrow those clamps they'd talked about.  Fire Lord was game, but had to explain that we were, like, out of the country, on a boat, on, you know, the ocean, so the fellow would have to work it out with our house sitter.  With that settled the co-worker said something like "Well, I think you should be ok, I saw your name on an org chart, so you probably still have a job."
He didn't say this like it was a joke.  Turns out there was a lot of layoffs reorganization in Fire Lord's lab while we were gone.  By "reorganization" you can read the entire project was canceled and everyone redeployed or released from employment.  Luckily his supervisor was responsive to his rather alarmed humorous voice mail, and assured him that a job was waiting for him when he got back.

Just a week and a half before we came home we learned that my FIL's best friend had died.  She had been like a grandma to our boys, joining us for Sunday dinner and family holidays.  We got home on a Sunday, and attended her funeral the very next day.

We spent that first week home catching up on laundry and sleep, and spending some time with my SIL who had been staying with my FIL.  It was during this week that we agreed that my FIL would be moving in with us with in the next month.

The next week Firelord learned that the plum new job he had waiting for him was as a tech lead in field he hadn't worked in for 20 years.  Talk about a steep learning curve!

The rest of us stumbled around trying, without much success, to get back into our normal routine.  I had a series of medical appointments to go to, dealing with the after effects of cancer treatment and trying to tease out those symptoms from other issues.  It was spring break for our local schools so some of our regular lessons had been canceled, friends were out of town, and we just weren't getting much of anywhere.  Little did we realize that this week would be about as good as it gets for a while.

We learned on Thur. 3/28 that Fire Lord's father had died the day before.  We'd had him to Sunday dinner just a few days earlier, (like we did pretty much every Sunday).    He was 93, but we really truly believed that he would be with us another few years.  He'd been to the doctors for a check up just a couple weeks prior and the doc had said that he had the health of a man 10 or 15 years younger than he was.  We thought he'd move in with us this month.  As much as the death of a 93 year old can be unexpected, this was unexpected.

I have no words to tell you how this hit us, how shocked, surprised, sad, and guilty we felt.  The "if only"s came on hard and fast.  "If only we'd convinced him to move in with us sooner."  "If only he'd moved into a home" "If  only we'd stopped by to check on him more often" "If only he hadn't been alone"  So many "if only's".   The coroner's findings indicated that it was quick, and that there was nothing anyone could have done, even if they had been right there.  That doesn't seem to get rid of the "if only"s though.  There is little logic in emotion.

That weekend, while we planed my FIL's funeral, family started coming in.  Easter Sunday came, and Lego Kid's birthday came.  The week of the funeral one SIL and another BIL also had a birthday.  We had 14 people sleeping under our roof, plus more family put up in town.  It was amazing and wonderful to see the family again.  I loved that we got to have the little kids at our house.  But it was also crazy.  Anyone who has had a loved one die knows that feeling a funeral brings - feelings of family reunion and love, and sadness and loss.  It's crazy, and it's exhausting.

It's been a week now since the last of the family left town.  It seems like both more and less time.  Nothing is really settled yet.  Fire Lord has not only a new job to learn, but has to settle up his father's estate, and cover for me while I take care of medical stuff.  My kids lost their closest grandparents within a month of each other and we haven't settled into our homeschool rhythm.

It's just hard.  I know we'll get through this, we have wonderful friends here, and I do honestly have some of the best in-laws on the planet.  I know it could be so much worse.  But we are so very weary. 

Welcome home indeed.

2012 Wrap Up

Hot Dog's version of "Bald Mama"

I wish I could do this year over.  I wish that I could have been healthy and involved for this last year of my children's lives.  My kiddos have not invented a time machine yet (although I'm told they're working on it).
I can't have this year back.
 So.
Thank God this year is over.
Sincerely.
Cancer treatment just sucks.

That aside, we also had some good times.  In spite of how I felt a good deal of the time, with the help of Firelord, friends, and family, we managed to get out and about.  It's was not as much as we would usually do, but still, much more than I would have expected. I'm writing this post to remind myself of those good times.

Bit Boy got braces - on and off - in 4 months.  We were all glad it was such a short treatment.

Bit Boy joined the Civil Air Patrol and earned his Eagles Wings, then decided that, as interested as he is in flying, the military bent was too much for his taste.  I was proud of him for sticking it out as long as he did and giving it a fair shot.

Firelord and Hot Dog in Geall

 We got to kayak and sail just a tiny bit at Boyd Lake and Horsetooth Reservoir.

Lego Kid and Hot Dog finally got their wish to go fishing.  We dragged Bit Boy, our near vegetarian, along.  Sadly he was the one who actually got a fish, much to his horror.
We were doing catch and release.  I promise the fish was fine.  Had Lego Kid been the one to catch it, we may have been eating sushi then and there, despite the lack of wasabi.

We got to foster some of the cutest kittens on the planet.  I'd have to go back and count but I'm pretty sure we've had more than 20 in just the last year.






We did lots of field trips
(many of which are worth doing again)
Celestial Seasonings
The U.S. Mint
Homeschool Day at Elich Gardens
Casa Bonita (might not need to do that again)
The Butterfly Pavilion
The Denver Zoo
2 different air shows - Warbirds Over the Rockies and the Wild West Air Fest
Yellowstone National Park
Harvest Farm Fall Festival
The DaVinci Machine Exhibit


This was the first year in a long time that I saw more performances than I was in.
Cirque du Soleil (Dralion w/ just Firelord, and Quidam w/ the kids)
Peter Pan
A Year with Frog and Toad

Winter Wishes Ice Show
A Musical Christmas Carol
Gift of the Magi




Yup, it was a hard year, but there were some very good times too.

Thanks to my family and friends, and especially Firelord, we got through it.

Here's to hoping for a healthy and happy 2013

Voiceless it cries...

I have lost my voice.  It's not the first time, and it probably won't be the last.  Every few years it seems I get a cold that settles into my throat and I am left to whisper my way for a while.

Aside - the longest I went with out a voice was ~ 2 months.  I went to choir practice w/ my violin, on which I picked my part so as to know it when my voice came back.

I've noticed several things when I'm voiceless.  Interestingly, while they seem important and insightful while I'm without the ability to go above sotto voce, I tend to forget about them until the next time I loose my voice.  So, here's what I notice, with the hope that perhaps I won't need to be struck dumb to remember next time.

When I'm voiceless...

I can't yell.  Yes, self evident, but it has interesting applications.  While I rarely "yell at" the kids, I often yell to them.  We have a big house and yard,  and it seems easier to shout for them than to walk all over looking for them.  Now I have to think about whether what I want to say to them is worth the walk and the search.  (With my chemo-brain I'm as likely to forget why I was looking for them as to remember)  I wonder if not raising my voice changes how they feel about what I was going to tell them.  It seems like it does - but maybe it's just that I'm right in their face when I'm "talking" now?

People don't listen easily.  I take a while to say something these days, it doesn't just bounce out like it usually does.  It's an effort, and not one that most folks seem to have the patience for.  All those sassy little comments I make during a conversation are lost.  By the time I get it out the conversation has moved on.  It makes me realize how rarely anyone actually wants to hear what I say and how often (when my voice is healthy) I don't give them a choice.

All those little sounds you make during a conversation are important.  You know the ones..."Uh-huh"  "No!"  "Then what happened?"...  Also, those leading questions that help you get someone talking, or direct the conversation a bit, are far more helpful than one thinks.   I can't do those as easily right now.  (When I try to say "Uh-huh" it sounds like a sick mule.  People are startled and concerned.)  Not saying these things seems to impede conversation.  I really do want to hear what they have to say, but with out some vocal encouragement most folks peter off.  Perhaps they're feeling like I'm not listening?

Speaking quietly can get attention faster and more gracefully than a raised voice.   I've noticed this before, even when I'm not speechless, but it bears repeating.  If you want someone to really listen, quiet down.  Bit Boy was telling me that he recently learned that is part of Hopi culture too.

I wonder if it seems to others like I'm singing all the time.  When I can't sing, I feel like I'm missing limb.  I also find that, without a voice, I pick up an instrument more often during the day.  I'm not sure why I'm like this, although I'm pretty sure I've always been like this.  It's a mental health thing perhaps?  Anyway, if I can't sing I still have to make noise.  :-p

I find myself writing more.  I often don't know what I think until say/write it and then examine it to see if what I just spewed out holds true.  I process "out loud" even if it's on paper (or computer screen).  (Yes, this is a lot like Hot Dog.  It's the mother's curse. "I hope you have a child just like you someday!" :-D )

If I can't ask questions and prompt conversation, certain people in this family barely speak to me.  I don't think it's personal.   I think they just don't process the way I do.  I'm beginning to believe them when I ask  "What are you thinking?"  and they reply "Nothing."  Can you imagine?  Weird.

A big part of my parenting is done with my voice.  I read stories and sing to teach, to distract, to comfort.  We talk- a lot - about just about anything.  It's hard for Lego Kid and Hot Dog to have a mom who doesn't talk.  It feels wrong to all of us.

Silver linings on an f'n big cumulo nimbus

Cancer comes with some unexpected blessings.

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not glad I have cancer.  Treatment sucks.  It is barbaric and cruel.  (For an unblemished read of cancer treatment check out "Memoir of a Debulked Woman")  I hate having to think of the very real potential of my kids growing up without me.  And I despise what this has done to me and my family.  This is not the childhood I wanted for my kids.

I would never wish it on anyone, and I'm not the sort the believes "everything happens for a reason".
I think random shit happens and we just have to deal.  In my case there's a family history of breast cancer, so I guess it's not so random.  But I still have to deal.

My way of dealing is to bitch and moan, whine and complain, and then try to make the best of it.

Making the best of it has included:

Making an effort to do fun things with the kids when I'm well enough, things we always "meant to do" but hadn't gotten to.
Being surprised and enlightened at the friends who've "stuck" and the ones who haven't
Being amazed and humbled by the supportive community we have
Getting to spend time with distant, but beloved, family members
Having a bit more time to read and watch movies
Enjoying mindful moments with my kids
Not worrying about how to pay for living until I'm 90
Fun play with  my hair that I would have never tried with out knowing that I was going to loose it all

In prep for the first hair loss I bleached it and dyed it pink. 

 Really, really, pink.

It grew back in between treatments, I call this Buddhist monk look

 

It started falling out again, so Firelord had some fun with it before he buzzed it for me.

Not really writing much

I know it's been a long time since I wrote something for real.  It's not that I don't have anything to say.  I have a lot to say, but either I'm saying it over on my caringbridge site, or I'm too tired to get it down here.

I could write about our recent quick jaunt to Breckenridge, or about the crazy hot weather and insane fires in Colorado, including one that has  had our house smokey for weeks, even though it's miles away. (And what it's like to have a kid with asthma with this terrible air quality)

I could write about how my illness and treatment have affected our homeschooling and parenting.

I could reflect on similarities and differences between this and the serious health issues my own mother dealt with when I was a child (and continues to deal with today).

I could write about my opinions on ObamaCare, and health care in general, especially in light of my ongoing experience in the medical system. 

I could write about how pain undermines your ability to stay sane or get anything done. 

I could write about how having our foster care kittens has been a blessing, even if it is a bit messy.

I could rough out an idea I have for a poster I want that demonstrates the relationships between Fibonacci numbers, Pythagoras triangle, and Lucas numbers. (Which also reminds me of a vocal exercise my choir did... a bit random, I know)

Oooh... I could post pictures of our foster kitties.  Now that would almost be worth the effort.

My goodness.  There's so much to write about, but instead I'm going to bed.

Happy Solstice!

Wow, I was just looking at all the blog posts I've started and not finished. It's been that kind of month. It's a time for changes and growth, all the while I feel like hibernating.

Bit Boy is considering going part time to public school 8th grade next semester. (This is HUGE, and one of the many posts I haven't finished is about this.) Our exchange student from last year is coming to dinner this week with the local girl who has apparently stolen his heart. The Lego Kid is starting to be more independent than I have ever hoped for, and is also keen to start his new business venture. Hot Dog has actually been quiet for an hour straight. (This probably has something do to with the new audio player he got for his birthday.) My father-in-law is declining faster than we had expected, although having expectations of a person in his 90's is probably silly.

And now a certain 7 yo is reminding me why I haven't finished anything this month...