The progressive Suckiness of A Mother’s Night:

1)One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.

2) One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom.

3) One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom and they don’t tell you until the bathroom is totally flooded.

4) One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom and they don’t tell you until the bathroom is totally flooded.  You finally get the entire thing cleaned up, wash you hands, and go to dry them thinking you are done.

6) One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom and they don’t tell you until the bathroom is totally flooded.  You finally get the entire thing cleaned up, wash you hands, and go to dry them thinking you are done.  As soon as you touch the hand towel, you feel that it is soaking wet and you instantly realize that the same amazing kid tried to clean it up themselves, which is why they didn’t tell you immediately, and then hung the hand towel back up on the bar. 

7)One of your amazing kids has a stomach virus with both ends going.  They flood their bathroom and they don’t tell you until the bathroom is totally flooded.  You finally get the entire thing cleaned up, wash you hands, and go to dry them thinking you are done.  As soon as you touch the hand towel, you feel that it is soaking wet and you instantly realize that the same amazing kid tried to clean it up themselves, which is why they didn’t tell you immediately, and then hung the hand towel back up on the bar.  You start cleaning again.

Dear Cancer, F*** You. Sincerely, Me (And Everybody else)

I hate cancer.
No.  I F***ING HATE cancer.
Yeah.  That's much more like it.

Why all the ire?
Cancer sucks.  Great big donkey balls.
I have seen too many people I love, and just too many people in general have cancer.
I have an Aunt who just had a total double mastectomy.
My dad had skin cancer.
My grandfather did as well.
My great grandmother died of cancer at the age of 92.  It wasn't her age, but the cancer that finally did her in.
My mom's family is riddled with cancer.
My mom is a breast cancer survivor, as I have written about before.

I'm just hitting the tip of the iceberg, too, if I were to really delve into all the people I know that cancer has touched with its long, ugly, gnarly, blackened fingers.
Right now, I have a friend who is about to start chemotherapy for breast cancer.  She is a wonderful person.
She isn't post menopausal.  She isn't even in that age range.   Her body just decided to turn against her.
What are we, as women supposed to do?  I look in the mirror all the time, and note that my chances this becoming my future are very high.  Very.
There really aren't a lot of options if this is likely your future.  You can go the preventative route.
We have another good family friend who did just that.  Her mother, one of my own mother's very best friends in life, had breast cancer.  She passed away at a much younger age than she should have.  So, her daughter decided not to wait for this to be her future.  The Drs suggested a preventative double mastectomy, and she did it.  She wanted to be sure.  Its becoming common to take such steps, too.
I could do genetic testing, find out, and go from there, but the kind of cancer that runs in our family causes more than just breast cancer.  I couldn't lop enough organs off to stop everything that will try to kill me, if I am predisposed.
My friend who just started her fight has two beautiful boys who are close in age to The Big Girls, each one of hers being a year younger than mine.
Now, they have to watch mom go through cancer treatments.
No child should need to watch that.
Moreover, no child should have to go through cancer treatments themselves, but it happens all the time.
Yes, I am filled with anger and questions because of all this.  The big question, though, is what do we do from here? How do we stop this?  So much money is being thrown at a cure, but what about the cause?
Has it always been this bad and we didn't know it, or are we killing ourselves somehow now?
Something needs to be stopped.  Somewhere, we need to recognize what has changed to cause our bodies, our breasts that are meant to sustain life, in to weapons that will take it in an instant.

I'm not sure where the answer to all of this lies, but someone, somewhere, must.  We have to do something.  I love all of the beautiful survivors that I have in my life, but I don't want to add any more people to the list of those touched by cancer.

I Know We Just Met, But....

I try really hard not to judge by first impression.  I'm not perfect, though.  As hard as a try, I often end up being judgmental in certain situations.  I am, like many things, a work in progress.  So, while I would like to say that upon first greeting, I liked 2014, which just started, I've got to say, its coming in like an a**sshole.
Last year was  pretty sucky for us.  My husband got his dream job, and because of a medical conditional that is part of his 20 years of service to our country, lost it.  He fought hard to get the condition fixed, a shoulder surgery.  In fact, he fought since before he retired.  A year after he retired, he was finally acknowledged by our esteemed government and the VA.  Finally, he could get fixed.  Then, we lost our insurance.  Again, our beloved government saw fit to play take back with the benefits he earned and was promised.  The government is playing bully and has decided to pick on Veterans, and we seriously felt it last year.  Sadly, (I swear I didn't mean for this to turn into a political rant) they aren't done yet, and have even decided to start to screw with the guys who are still in.
Anyway, The fantasticness of this past year didn't end with just being on the losing end of a Congressional Budget (Thanks, guys!  I'll see you at poll time!).  The Biggest One managed to break her wrist.  Not just break it, but blow it out to the point that the specialist was totally impressed.  Yeah. That's my girl.  Oh, and to make it better, she did it just walking in Chuck E Cheese.  Just walking.  She fell, and Boom!
My Husband did finally get his surgery.  While good, as he won't be in  pain anymore, it is costing us about a million half dollars.  Ok.  Not exactly, but let me assure you, our medical bills, between three kids, one of whom like to break bones, and a husband who is breaking after all of his years in the military, are making me sick.
So, needless to say, I am pretty thrilled to be done with this year, and have been seriously hoping to see bigger and better things in the new year.
However, 2014, thus far, in the very limited time we have had, hasn't been great.
The Littlest One has a massive cancer sore in her mouth.  It hurts.  A lot.  She cries.  A lot.  She can't eat and wants to be held.  Yes, I have meds for her, but getting her to let me do anything that she suspects is like medicine is akin to trying to throw a cat in the bath tub.  It hurts all of us and nothing ever really gets accomplished the way we want.  Yesterday, I managed to get some of the numbing medicine in her mouth, but I have no idea where it went or what part of her mouth it touched.  Then, she tried to throw up on me.  So, I gave up.  Regular kids acetaminophen is a two person job with her.  One person has to hold her upside down while the other administers.  Ok.  We don't exactly hold her upside down, but you do hold her in a horizontal position with her head slightly tilted down so that she HAS to swallow, unless you want pink slimy vomit on you.  Your choice, of course.
I don't actually have two people here who are qualified to do that, either.  My Husband's computer crashed.  Actually, the power port on his laptop came loose.  His laptop right now is imperative.  I neglected to backup a copy of something that I was working on for the school, and that I have to get to a printer asap.  So, he took the computer and ran to his family's house so that our BIL (and resident family computer guru) could fix it asap.  So, we didn't even get to spend New Year's Eve together.  He took Middie with him, who also got sick on the way.  Then, the computer didn't even get fixed because the port couldn't be soldered back in, it needs to be replaced.
Do you see the awesomeness going on here?
Seriously.  This all needs to go. Now.  I think I'm going to give all this another day, and just pretend this today is part of last year, too.  Hopefully things will begin to be a tiny bit better by then.  I know the old superstition about whom ever you are kissing at midnight is who you will be kissing all year.  I'm just hoping that doesn't also translate to having a super sucky time at midnight means a whole year of suck.  Been there.  Done that. And totally ready for less suck and more good stuff in the coming year.  No.  We are just going to say that 2013 was the a**hole year, and its going out painfully and slowly, like the true a**hole it was.  I refuse to let it take 2014 down with it.  No.  We are kicking that a**hole year to the curb and going to make 2014 better, one way or another.

Have I Told You I HATE Cancer?

In case I haven't mentioned it lately, I hate cancer.  Actually, I f***ing hate cancer.  Really.  I do.
My family has a terrible history of cancer.  On my mom's side, I think that is pretty much all we die from.  Old age must be pissed, because it never gets a chance to be the one to claim us.  Nope. Cancer always manages to get there first.
Both of my parents are cancer surviors.  My dad just finished his rounds of medication to kill all the cancer that they found on his head and in his neck.  My mom is a breast cancer survivor.
Now, we just found out that one of my aunts, on my mom's side, has breast cancer.  I love this aunt.  I even happen to like her, which with that family isn't actually all that common even though I have about 20 aunts and uncles on that side.  This particular aunt already deals with enough.  She has two artifical valves in her heart.  She has a pace maker.  She has it rough.  So, cancer really is an ugly thing to throw in that mix.  I know that chemotherapy can damage your heart, and hers couldn't take that.  Instead of all that, the Dr has advised her to have a mastectomy.  Possibly a double one.
All I can say is that I hate cancer.  I hate it.  I hate what it does to the people I love.  I hate what it does to anyone.
One of my goals in life is to participate in the Breast Cancer Three Day. I will.  I want to do it next year, with My Sister who wants to as well.  It will take time for me to be ready for that, and lots of time to raise the money, but so worth it.  I want to do anything I can to kick cancer's ass long before it even thinks it can get to my girls and I.  No.  I want old age to finally win out, and claim us, and nothing else.

Total Failure

As a mom, we expect so much of our selves. Honestly at times I think we require perfection when it comes to what we expect ourselves to be able to do.   So, when you miss the mark on that idea of perfection, we feel like a total failure.  We feel like bad mothers, even if we are doing our best, if anything doesn't match up to that idea we had in our head.

We need to get over it.

The past couple of days have been pretty horrific around my way. Somehow,  I developed an infection in my surgery site. I wont go into too many details, but I have a small watermelon sized knot of infection hiding under my stomach and c-section scar. Its nice. After my Dr saw me, she ordered a CT scan, stat. That was all peachy keen until I found out I couldn't breast feed The Littlest One for 24 hours. I would have to pump and dump and I wasn't prepared in any way for that.  I'm sure people wondered what kind of test I was having as I sat there in the lobby of testing facility crying my eyes out.  While what I have could get pretty bad, it isn't life threatening, or anything like that.  It just means that from the moment they inject me with dye, I can't breastfeed my child.  That information, though, nearly sent me over the edge.
We had nothing in the line of bottle feeding.  We had no formula in the house.  We had no bottles of any kind.  I didn't even have a the little hand pump I used with both the older girls.  That all meant that in that moment, if my child got hungry, I had no means to feed her, at all, and that thought was unbearable.  It broke me.
I immediately sent my husband to the pharmacy there to see if they carried new born ready to feed formula in those little bottles.  They actually carried nothing as far as formula goes.
So, I sent him off to Target the moment he could go.  He bought those bottles so that we could have something just in case.
Still, even having the formula didn't make me feel much better.  My job is to feed her.  No matter what else I can, or can't do, as a mother, I feed my child.  My body is great at making milk.  I generally over produce.  I could feed her all day long, and sometimes I do.  So, the idea that my body could no longer provide for her just hurt my heart like nothing else could.  I felt like a failure.
That failure was compounded by the fact that The Littlest One hates bottles and formula.  She hates it.  AS soon as she was hungry, we whipped out one of those little bottles, and tried to feed her with it.  It didn't work.  First, she couldn't figure out how to get to the formula.  Second, she hated the formula.  Hated it.  She screamed for what seemed like an eternity because she was so hungry.  There was food there, but she just couldn't get it.  We tried everything we could to help her.  It didn't matter.  She must have screamed for 10 minutes, though it felt like hours, with us trying everything we could think of, before I finally ask for a medicine dropper.  I got the dropper, took the top off the bottle, and fed my baby a tiny bit at a time, until she had finally gotten just enough, about 2 ounces, to keep her from screaming, and she passed out from exhaustion.
I knew she hadn't eaten enough.  Her little body just couldn't keep up after all the energy she expended from being upset.  IF that doesn't make you feel like a failure as a parent, I'm not sure what would.

While she slept, I ran back to Target.  I got 4 different kinds of bottles, a hand pump, and some powdered formula on the advice of a friend, who says that the powered formula doesn't have as strong of a flavor as the ready to drink.  I would have bought anything I could if I thought in the moment that it would help.
I ran home and pumped, starting the process so that I could go back to feeding my baby the way I wanted to.
When she woke up, we were ready with a new bottle, and some fresh formula.  I had never made a bottle with powdered formula before in my life. Again, I called on a friend to make sure I knew what I was doing. The moment she woke up, she was crying, still hungry from before.  WE tried the new bottle, and she hated it.  She couldn't really make it work.  When she could get the formula, still hated the new formula, too.  Again, I was in tears, heartbroken.  I tried another bottle, and found one that we could at least make work a little together.  Even if she couldn't get the milk out, this particular bottle made it easy for me to squeeze the nipple and get the milk going to her.  She still screamed.  She still hated it.  WE managed to get another two-three ounces,  still below what she should eat, into her before she gave out again.  Thus was our heart breaking cycle.
It all made me feel like such a failure.  I don't think there is anything as heart breaking in the world, as the cry of a starving child.  It made me really feel for mothers in impoverished nations, where they do this every single day.  I couldn't deal with it for 24 hours, let alone live like that.  At least I know that once everything is all done, I will be able to take care of my baby the way she wants and needs again.  That should be a comforting thought, but honestly, in the moment it isn't.  We take everything to heart, and keep it there as mothers.  We should learn that doing our best, what ever it is, is ok, but we don't.  I really should take my own advice, and not beat myself up, but I can't.  Such is the life, and heart, of being a mom.

I Need Bubbles

This morning, I think I am going to start looking for bubbles.
Not the kind you blow. We have tons of that stuff around.
Not from champagne, or any other drink, either. We don't need that right now.
Certainly not the old chimp from Micheal Jackson days.

No. I want big plastic bubbles. The kind you can put your kids in to keep them away from germs and everything else. I need 4 of them. Two in adult sizes and two in a child size, please.

I'm not really sure what else to do at this point. We wash hands. We carry anti-bacterial hand sanitizer, and use it. I do my best to keep everyone healthy, but apparently it just isn't working.

I know kids are walking, talking germ factories and/or magnets, but this far, this season has been ridiculous. We have had at least 2 bouts of strep throat, some colds, and maybe a little scarlet fever thrown in for good mix. Apparently, whatever comes rolling their way, they catch. This isn't good.

It has been so bad, I am actually considering flu shots for the whole family this year, and we never get flu shots. I actually think they are a little creepy. Vaccines in general creep me out, not because of all the war about whether or not they cause autism and all that, but because the idea of shooting a dead version of the actual virus you are trying to avoid straight into your body just seems really off to me. While I really do get the science behind it, the cave womyn in me says "Virus no good. Me no get." and doesn't want to get near it. Not to mention the fact that I hate needles with a passion.

Actually, hate is the wrong word. I am terrified of the little things. I think it stems from having bad veins. I don't know, but lets just say my mother has never worried about me having any tattoos. Though, I did get some piercings, but that is a whole different story.

Anyway, I'll be looking for those bubbles, and some other way to keep them germ free. In the mean time, if you see a red headed mom at a park with one of those SARS masks on, and a little blond running around with one on too, don't freak out. It's just us, sick and tired of being sick.

I hate cancer.

A very good friend of mine just let us know that her father had cancer. She facebooked something about his condition, 'cause you know that's how we do, and another friend of ours replied to the news in a way that caught me off guard. The last part of her reply really struck me. "I hate cancer" was her reply. It was simple, honest, and direct.

I kept looking at it, thinking, that I hate cancer, too. In all honestly, there are few things that I would say I hate. Cancer is definitely one of them. I guess I just never thought about how much I hate cancer before, but I do.

Cancer has touched the lives of so many people that I know, and it has never been a good thing.

Cancer has taken the lives of those I love. It has changed those I love the most, and not for the better.

My mom faced breast cancer a few years ago. It was a terrible experience. She made it through, though.
I lost both of my maternal grandparents to cancer. My mom has lost so many cousins, aunts, and uncles to cancer, that is seems to be the way we die. The reality is that I will very likely face cancer myself. We are carriers of a gene that causes lots of different cancers. I know that there is a good chance my children will have to deal with cancer in some form or fashion, thought I pray that gene skipped them.

I hate cancer. All forms of cancer. I hate it.

I want to get mad at an entire disease spectrum. While there isn't anything tangible that I can fight, I can find a way to fight cancer. I can be vigilant. I can be responsible for myself and my actions and try to prevent cancer. I can do monthly breast self exams and get my yearly mammogram, started early because of our family history. Being vigilant also means limited my risks of skin cancer from sun exposure, something that is also common in my family. I can eat healthy, cancer fighting foods, and feed my family the same things. I can help to raise money for cancer research. I can raise awareness about cancer research and causes. Most importantly for me right now, I can support those who have cancer, and do what I can for them and their loved ones.
I will do anything for my friend, and her family, that I can to help them through this time. I will be there. I will bring them food. I will do anything that I can to help out, because I know how scary this time is and I hate that they have to go through this.

I will fight this awful disease any and every way I can.

If we all fight cancer in every way we can, maybe one day, together, we can finally put the disease down, and keep it down.

I hate cancer.