Cancer and Me

Today I had my biannual check with my oncologist to make sure that I was still Hodgkin's free. Praise God, the check up went well. I am still clear, nearing the three year mark.

An oncology waiting room is filled with people 'waiting' in more ways than one. You can almost feel everyone holding their breath. They often bring someone with them for support. To take notes, to listen to the instructions from the doctor.  Hoping and praying for good news, for positive test results, for shrinking of the cancer. You are just a breath away from good (or bad) news. There is a certain tenuousness, a frailty present when you are dealing with such a serious illness.


Except, I never felt frail when I went in for my check ups and treatments. I remember sitting in the waiting room and feeling badly for my fellow cancer patients. They all looked so scared, so tired.

God and I had our talk at the very beginning of that journey and I was going to beat Hodgkin's Lymphoma.

Absolutely.

Sitting in the waiting room with the other patients I realized something about myself that surprised me.
The fact that I hate cancer is nothing new. I would never want to go back to that place of having Hodgkin's again. But no matter how much I wouldn't want to have cancer again, I NEVER want to see one of my family members or friends go through it themselves. It terrifies me to imagine them going through what I went through. I would rather go through it for them, knowing that I have done it once already.

Hodgkin's was just a bump in the road that I was determined to get through. My son WOULD NOT lose his mother to cancer. I would not give in, and be sick. I would push through like I had with any other obstacle in my life.

Defeat was not (is not) an option. Cancer must be stopped.

My doctor doesn't want to see me again for a year. It makes me nervous in some ways. You want to just be happy about it, but there is that little part of you that is still holding its breath.

But I think maybe now it is time to start breathing again.



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Little Man's Mama

I wasn't surprised when I received my referral for Little Man. The agency had made it clear that, being a single female, I would in all likelihood receive a referral for a toddler boy. Little Man was nearly three when we flew home from Ethiopia. Although there was a definite transition period, being a mom to my little boy seemed to fit like a glove.

Growing up, I was a bit of a tomboy. I loved hanging out in the garage with my dad while he worked on different pieces of heavy machinery. I clearly remember sitting on a large Skidder tire eating bean with bacon soup and tuna sandwiches with my dad, thinking 'This is the best!" Climbing trees, playing in mud, riding bike through puddles, playing tag at night...I loved them all.

All of these experiences made me very comfortable with the idea of raising Little Man on my own. I figured if any single mom was ready to raise a boy, I was.

Once the initial transition period was over, I started on my mental list of  'things that most little boys would like to know how to do, and their dad's would normally teach them.' I didn't want Little Man growing up not having the opportunity to do all those boy things. I know, I know not all boys like the same things, and some people would argue that there are no such things as 'boy things'.

Those people apparently haven't met Little Man.

He came wired and preset to 'manly'. An "I take care of that for you" kind of guy. A statement he made when he was three and just learning English  really says it all.  "Mama, if you get cow...I will cut it for you. It takes many mans to cut cow." Yes, you read correctly. Although a bit shocking by our standards, Little Man had witnessed a cow being butchered and wanted to help provide meat for his new mama.

I have made it my job these past five years to support, foster, and champion those activities that Little Man enjoys. Some of the activities I enjoyed to start with, and some I have (ahem) had to acquire a taste for.

Catching frogs and salamanders. Check.
Climbing trees. Check.
Riding bike through mud puddles. Check.
Cooking over an open fire. Check.
Soccer. Check.
Reading nonfiction. Check.
Holding snakes. O.K., if I have to, check.
Random science experiments. Check.
Fishing. Check.
Belching. Ahem, check.

I've loved being Little Man's mom even more than I expected I would. God knew we would be a good fit. Now that Baby B, our little princess, has joined our family it will be fun to see how the two personalities will balance each other. 

I wonder how Little Man feels about tea parties? 


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Love is Sacrifice

My mom was a little ticked at me this week. I pulled an all nighter to get caught up on some things around the house. Oh, and she also wasn't pleased that I get up at 4:30 every day just to get out the door on time. I believe her exact words were, "You have to take care of yourself!" I reminded her that mom's do what they have to do for their children.

There are just too many hours in the day and sometimes I have to get caught up. I get up early during the week so that I can get all of the 'necessary' stuff done before Little Man and Baby B get up for the day.

In order for me to be the best mom that I can be for them, I have to make some sacrifices. One of those being, sleeping less. Working in the wee hours of the night (or day) gives me some time to be alone with my thoughts and with God. I can get the laundry done, the dishes, pack all the lunches, set out everyone's clothes for the day, and just be alone.

Enjoying the silence.

Loving them means not whining about how little sleep I got the night before (at least not around them). Not keeping track of the noses wiped, clothes washed, or lunches made. It means spending hours reading books on reptiles, and watching shows about various animals. Playing with dolls, and doing 8 piece puzzles (over and over and over again). It means having a listening ear and a smile ready when Little Man and Baby B are trying to 'out talk' each other in the back seat of the car.

Trying to hand out more smiles of encouragement, than frowns of disappointment on any given day.

It's not about me anymore. It's about making choices, and sacrifices, that will help them to become the very best human beings that they can be. Children are called "dependents" for a reason. My children depend on me to help them navigate their way through life. Truly loving them means I don't blame them (or resent them) for acting like kids, when that's what they are! 

Even when I'm tired.

I am very excited for the weekend. I hope to get some sleep, and relax a little. But if I don't, I will remember that this is what I signed up for and try to enjoy every minute of it. I will substitute calming breathes for tired sighs. (And maybe I'll make some more coffee). ☺ 

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Like Mother, Like Daughter (or Son)?

Little Man and Baby B couldn't be less like me.

Little Man is a total athlete. He can assess most physical activities, and master them in a short amount of time. The same could not be said for me. I was the child who dreaded gym class.I could not do a tripod. Little Man has been doing headstands since he was four or five. I honestly used to think about ways I could accidentally get a minor injure me and thereby be saved from swim class, or...well you fill in the blank. If it is an activity that you do in gym class, I probably dreaded it.  I was tall and lanky for my age, and lacked any athletic skills.

 My senior year in high school I finally developed coordination, but by then I was done with all of my P.E. requirements so it really didn't help me much.

Baby B is super dramatic. Let me say that again. S-U-P-E-R dramatic. I have never witnessed a child her age that could pull off such an amazing fake cry. She can fake being asleep so that she will be left alone in a room to have unsupervised fun. Always a good time. I was a member of the drama club in school, but never made it on stage-even for a non speaking role. I tried out a couple of times, but apparently I was so bad they didn't even want my presence on the stage distracting the other actors. Yikes.

I have resigned myself to the fact that in many ways my children are completely unlike me. However, Little Man is developing a love of reading to rival my own. Baby B can play make believe for hours, just like I used to do. They both have tempers like, ahem, me. We all like to laugh. Most importantly, we love each other.

My children are forcing me to grow beyond where I would be without them. God knew I needed them in my life.

I never grew up dreaming of having children that were "mini me's". Which is probably a good thing. I think its much more interesting this way.

Tricky some days, but interesting. ☺

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Boring People

Over the holidays nearly our entire extended family was hit with the flu. It slowly moved from person to person, sometimes taking days before it hit full strength. The last person to go down became sick last night.

The flu takes a lot out of you. I still don't feel like I am back to my old self. I have no motivation for anything. I feel, for lack of a better word, completely boring. Not bored, boring.

I used to be the person who wasn't into technology, didn't watch much TV, never played video games. I love to read. I love doing crafts. I love going outside. But lately, I don't seem to have the motivation to do much of anything. Lately, about all I have the energy to do is watch TV, or check my email.

Pretty exciting huh?

I know this won't last. I know that as I recover from this flu, my energy will come back. My concern is, today as I sat cruising Pinterest, the other four people in the room were all sitting on their respective iPods, smartphones, tablets or laptops. We weren't even talking to each other.

We were just a room full of boring people.

Is that what we are coming to? A entire society of people who communicate more with their technology than they do with each other?

I am pointing a finger at myself as I ask this question. In times of stress, I used to retreat to reading a good book, going for a walk, creating art. Slowly, my life has shifted and I too have started to let technology become maybe a little bit too important in my life.

I want to start reading books again. I have a couple of books that I have written for my children, that I am determined to finish illustrating this year. I want to make exercise a regular part of my life again. I have several projects that I have in progress for a few people that I need to finish.

Sorry fellow boring people. I'm jumping ship.



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