A Cancer Treatment Center Christmas

When you think of Christmas, what sorts of things dance through your mind? Festively light trees,  carols playing, slightly cheesy yet endearing Hallmark movies, chemotherapy, blue emesis bags around every corner, and the occasional ringing of the radiation bell………yeah, the last few have been newer additions to my holiday repertoire, too.

We had intended to go to Branson this holiday season.  We wanted to do something a little different this year.  Mainly because the kids are getting a little older and just playing with the toys in moms “playroom” is no longer fresh and new, but also because we are trying to get away from always doing things the same.  That way, should something come up in the years to come, something that changes our routines and traditions, maybe it won’t be as hard…….because we haven’t “always done it that way.” Does that make any kind of sense?  It did to us and so we had planned to spend a good chunk of our holiday back in time at Silver Dollar City.

That didn’t end up happening.

But our Christmas still ended up being completely untraditional so I am going to consider it a win just the same.

I’d like to take a moment to tell you that if you are ever traveling and need a place to stop for the night, I would highly recommend the local Cancer Treatment Center of America.  First, they have valet parking.  Nothing makes you feel like you have officially arrived – not only to your actual destination, but to the pinnacle of your life – like handing over the keys and letting someone else park your car.  We didn’t partake of the valet, by the way, because our car is disgusting after a trip to Target and I’m not even going to talk about what it looks like after we have journeyed across the entire state of Arkansas.

So moving on from the fancy, valet parking – the actual facility itself is lovely.  And upon arriving into the gorgeous lobby, even if you did park your own filthy automobile, you will still feel like you are a little bit better of a person than you were previously.  Maybe even a little snootier, too….but that’s okay.  Our hotel room was not only spotless to my human eyes, but it was very relieving to also know that should I take my high powered microscope out, I still wouldn’t find anything.  These rooms are usually reserved for folks who need to stay a night or a week or 5 for treatments.  And these people usually have a depleted immune system so things like changing not just the sheets, but also the bed spread and sanitizing the toilet are just a given.  I have never felt the desire to eat off of a hotel room’s floor before, but it was nice to know that should the need arise the floor of our room was probably cleaner than my dishes at home.

From now on, all of our travel plans will be within reach of a CTCoA – no more hotels for us.

So after waking up feeling cleaner then we were when we arrived, because I think we went through some sort of bariatric chamber/ full body dish washing system when we rode the elevator – we passed station after station offering us all the coffee and hot chocolate we could ever want….with the fanciest to-go paper cups ever!  They weren’t even made of paper, but rather some sort of space age, cup-shaped foam that kept your coffee scalding hot but didn’t burn your hand.  And the lids!!!!! The little plastic lids have sliding lock things! My mug at home doesn’t have a sliding lock thing!  Moving parts on a disposable cup – color me impressed!  I seriously thought about rinsing mine out and bringing it home to put in Brandon’s stocking.  Sadly, he gets out a little more than me and isn’t quite as impressed by these things.  The awesomeness of this foam cup would totally be lost on him.

We had a delicious breakfast in the cafe.  This is what their website has to say about this cafe:

In the café, you will find nourishing meals that appeal to your selective tastes. Our culinary team works alongside your dietitian to find foods you enjoy and your body can tolerate so you can maintain your strength throughout treatment. Our unique cuisine stations include a variety of fresh, whole food choices made with the finest ingredients. To keep meal cost to a minimum, the hospital offers discounted rates on breakfast, lunch and dinner for you and a caregiver.

If that doesn’t make you feel healthy and vital, I don’t know what would! I left that meal feeling like I had done a brisk 5K….even though I actually had a meal of grits and hash browns…..and more coffee because it’s free and I was hoarding it at this point. My children, myself and my parents all ate for $16.00 and because my children get very overzealous when presented with a buffet, their plates weren’t exactly scantily clad.  Crazy!!!!!

After breakfast, in our pajamas by the way, because folks at the Cancer Treatment Center aren’t judgey about how you are dressed or if you chose to wear your hair or not – we spent some quality time oohing and aahing over the elaborate nativity set down by Radiation and Mattie entertained everyone with a little spontaneous piano recital.  Ms. Jenni would have been so proud!

We spent a large chunk of our time hanging out in the Cancer Fighters Club.  I’m pretty sure that the activities they had were intended for patients, but the sweet director kept my kids busy for hours with crafts, crayons and computer games.  They probably made over a dozen Modge Podge coasters and loved every  minute of it.  The Fighter’s Club also had these sitting on the table:

Thank you Russell Stover for not being afraid to admit your mistakes….and to then gift them to CTCoA.  I tried many, and I couldn’t find fault with anything in that box of chocolates.

I didn’t catch the director’s name, but I feel like I need to write her a thank you card.  I’m not quite sure how she did it, but she twisted our situation into such a way, that my kids actually seemed to think that they were doing her a favor by being there at Christmas time instead of the other way around.  If she had somewhere else she needed to be, she never let on.  When they slowed down on their coaster making, she pulled out markers and paper and stickers.  Even when she went to lunch, instead of thanking us for our visit and kindly shooing us out, she let the kids stay while she was gone and begged them not to leave until she had come back.  I’m not sure if it was all the free coffee or just the fact that we were spending Christmas Eve waiting for Poppy to finish his radiation – but her genuine kindness and upbeat spirit actually made me cry at one point.  I’m sure it was the coffee.

After we had finally used up more paper than Poppy’s insurance could pay for, our little band moved on – this time to one of the “family rooms”.  There was a big, cozy couch and two oversized chairs and a giant tv.  I turned on the tv and didn’t watch it while the kids had a blast pulling game after game out of the cabinets that lined the walls.  Turns out I have totally ruined Mattie, Reese and Lila because in all their lives they have never played the game Mouse Trap.  I loved that game when Matt and I were little!  It was his but because I was the only other person around, he let me play.  Eventually, we quit even going through the actual game and just played with the trap.

*Tomorrows Target list: toilet paper, paper towels and Mouse Trap

Our evening eventually led to us breaking Poppy out after his two week sentence.  I don’t think it was so much that we broke out, rather that they weren’t guarding very well anymore, it being the holidays and all.  Either way, Poppy was declared well enough to leave, Mumsey had an arsenal of drugs and we were free to go home………

……just like every year before. Tradition or no tradition.

Poppy may have slept through most of Christmas 2015.  He will probably remember nothing about what happened over December 23rd-27th, but we will remember.

We will remember that this was the year that Mattie wanted a Cinderella ball gown.  We (herself included) had no idea where she planned to wear this regalia, but that and a bike were just about the only things she wanted for Christmas.  Brandon and I actually ordered her the little girls version of the dress from the latest Cinderella movie (don’t even ask how much that cost!) but were so disapointed by the quality and our lapse in judgement that we sent it back.  We will remember that this was the year Mumsey found the perfect lavender prom dress and cut it down to size (the Cancer Treatment Center of America even has a sewing room….I know, right?).  Using the bottom layers of the skirt to make the perfect little drapey sleeves – it was better than anything we could have bought her.  Right up there with the same quality that comes from a fairy Godmother.

We will remember that Reese got a pair of batting gloves which he has worn continuously since opening them Christmas morning and two different NFL games that allow him to play some form of football at all times.

We will remember that Lila got her impregnated pink and white dog, which gives birth (with your assistance) on demand.  I can’t even tell you how many times I have delivered that stuffed dogs offspring or how excited she gets EVERY SINGLE TIME you count them.(*so sorry, there are no photos of Roxy the pregnant dog – only a video which I am not sharing because some things are just too precious to share)

We will remember the girls with their big pink sponge rollers pretending to be old women.

We will remember that Mattie’s only request was for movie nights on the couch……and movie nights she did get.

And we will remember that for this Christmas, we were all together.  I have no idea what 2016 has in store, and frankly, I would rather not think about it.  I will remember that nothing under a tree or in a stocking could ever fill my heart like the gift of these people right here and for the first time, I think I finally understand the true meaning of Christmas.

It’s not the fuzzy feeling of love and cinnamon – though those are wonderful.  It’s not wonder and happiness in dimly light pictures of my children staring at the tree.  It’s not even about goodwill to our fellow man and doing the most good.  My true meaning is that this story is not over, no matter what happens here on this earth, because of that precious baby that was born so many years ago.

Because He was born, He could also die

And that means that because we die, we can once again live.

This world is not our forever home, and this life is not our lasting story, merely only the preface to the real story.  I hope your Christmas was perfect and lovely and I really hope it included a pregnant pink and white dog that gives birth every hour on the hour.  But if it was not, just remember that one day it will be.

“For God so loved the world (that’s me and you and everyone, EVERYONE) that He gave his only Son, that Whosoever believes in Him shall have everlasting life.”

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night

Change of Plans

I had a list. Nothing was super pressing, but there was definitely a bulleted To-Do list on my agenda for Tuesday. I had two more Christmas presents to buy, one was being held for me at a little store in Mid-Town that would only be open until 5. There was laundry, packing (for a trip I’ll tell you about after I get back), and I was hoping to take Cybill for a run because I had helped myself to most of the Christmas cookies the night before. Mama loves a good iced cookie!

I had just sat down at the computer to pay my Gap bill.

The kids were outside, playing Star Wars with some cardboard wrapping paper tubes. I had sent them outside to play because that seemed like the responsible, parent thing to do. We still have a broken TV out in the garage from an unfortunate interception attempt by Mattie during a rousing football game last Christmas Break. A game that took place in the living room. I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I definitely have enough sense to know that light sabers, whether they be real or pretend, have no place in my living room.

They finished their war and were coming inside, there was a flurry of excitement and boots being tossed on the floor. Squeals and screams, the kinds of sounds that accompany my children whenever they do anything – and then a loud “Cybill!!!!” Again, a sound that I have become immune to. Hearing my dog’s name called out angrily by my husband or children is as natural as breathing. But all of the normal yelling was followed up by something that triggered a warning bell to my mother ears. My typically calm, uneasily ruffled husband said these three words, “Get an icepack.” And this was followed by an equally cool, “watch out for the blood.”

Turns out that even though the actual war was fought outside, Cybill was feeling the force awaken while she watched from the back door. And as soon as our Jedi’s came inside for a little snack, she took her chance to join the Rebel Alliance. I will applaud her enthusiasm, however, her execution was not without flaws. In her excitement about the kids jumping around beating each other with cardboard swords, Cybill, being the high strung 6-month-old puppy that she is, couldn’t contain herself and leaped on Lila upon reentry into the house. Her powerful leap rocketed Lila Bird into the TV console…and I think that you can figure out what happened next. If not, here is a hint, it required an ice pack and for the other kids to stay out of the blood.

So it turns out that regardless of what you think is on your 3 Days Before Christmas To-Do List, all of that can quickly go out the window.

Our first thoughts were, that we would all go together as a family to the emergency room. Then we paused for just a second and the common sense that Brandon and I both have finally kicked in and we realized how terrible of an idea that would be. I know that we have been very lucky as parents in the accident department. We have only visited that E.R one other time and that was for Mattie when she was very young and came down with a crazy high fever and we were out of town. I am very certain that we have plenty of visits ahead of us and I decided that I would prefer to take this visit then to try my luck on the next one. The next one might include a bone sticking out of and I don’t think I’m really up for that.

So Lila and I headed out to the Children’s Hospital right down the road. Neither of us talking about what lay ahead. I distracted myself with talking on the phone and Lila calmed her own nerves by spreading her own blood all over her face with her Spiderman icepack. When we finally arrived at our (first) destination, she looked like either Hannibal Lector or Ozzy Osbourne during his bat eating days. We made it to the children’s hospital and were just walking through the front door when my phone started exploding with calls and texts from my medically gifted friends telling me to abort my mission.

Apparently my doctor friends felt very strongly that my child’s busted face needed a little more TLC then they felt this particular hospital’s E.R was capable of. I think the word “Plastics” showed up on my phone about 25 times in the span of 15 seconds. So I loaded Hannibal Lila back into the car and we headed downtown to the big boss Children’s Hospital. The one with the trauma department (which we did not need) and the plastic surgeons.

Go big or go home was definitely our motto when picking our emergency room.

I had to park in the overflow parking, which meant I had to carry the bloody faced girl across a pretty busy street and over what felt like the length of a football field. When we arrived, the nurse said I had that worried mother look. I just smiled. Worried, maybe a little, but more so I was worn out from carrying her during our journey from the back 40.

We didn’t even have to sit in the waiting area. I don’t know if it was a slow day or if the bloody face just got things moving faster, but the welcome crew at the Le Bonheur Children’s Hospital Triage is definitely on top of their game. It was in triage that a kind-hearted soul finally traded out the carnaged Spider Man for a nice wad of gauze.

The view right after the “incident”

Before I even had a chance to call Brandon and let him know we had made it, they were already transferring us to our own little bed with a cozy little gurney and cable TV. She settled in with her cartoons, her blanket (now with a lovely splattering of dried blood) and her stuffed pup – who cares that her face had a new hole in it, life was fine by her.

We made several new friends; Lila had her own nurse and about 3 techs that visited us every few minutes. One tech in particular was a nice young man named Conor with an anchor tattoo. He seemed especially fond of my little girl and even brought other techs and nurses in to see the “Beautiful little girl with the busted mouth” as she was apparently being referred to as by the staff.

 

There wasn’t even any discussion, she would definitely need a stitch or two, and so the next part of our adventure would be getting her mouth numb. Turns out, for kiddos, they go out of their way to be as painless as possible…, which I appreciated. Instead, Lila got a topical numbing something on her mouth, held on with a full head wrap. Because a wet mouth doesn’t take a Band-Aid very well, it would seem. We sat there for 45 minutes, with Lila’s head looking far worse then it actually was, getting her mouth good and goofy. This was the fun portion of our visit. While it felt like we were really doing something, getting stuff done, but without any pain.

That was a nice 45 minutes

We even had a very sweet lady come in with a special little kit to explain to Lila just what her doctor friends were going to be doing to fix her mouth, while demonstrating on an Olaf doll.

Then stuff started to get real. In an attempt to keep things as pleasant as possible for their patients and families, our hospital believes in pain and painful memory management. Lila was administered some sort of narcotics, as well as a Valium-esque substance through her nose that would ensure to make that the whole experience would just fade away. She was very brave, having the marshmallow covered syringes poked up her nose, but the tears did start to fall soon after. I’m not sure if it was because the medicine dripped down into her throat or that the medicine didn’t actually smell like a marshmallow. Either way, for the first time through the whole thing, Birdie needed some cuddles.

After her intranasal cocktail, it was time for the real action. I had been a little afraid that stitches might also involve me having to hold the girl. I really wanted nothing to do with this plan and had spent most of the 45 minutes of numbing to try to figure out what I could wrap her up in instead. Thankfully, this wasn’t the folks at the children’s E.R ‘s first rodeo. In one swift motion my preschooler was flipped around and securely burritoed without any clue as to what had just happened.

That would be new best friend Conor, burritoing her.

I was asked if I wanted to watch. Not only did I not want to watch, at the moment, I didn’t even want to be in the room.

A crowd of 2 techs, one nurse, the actual resident who did the sewing, an attending physician and that sweet, sweet education lady who had brought Olaf in (who was now playing a puppy game with the incapacitated Lila to distract her) provided a wall around my little lady who didn’t make a peep as they reattached her lip to itself.

They were wonderful. Working as a team, even referring completely straight faced to the stitches as the blue, string band-aids while tossing out other medical jargon-y phrases. And this is where I have to stay, you realize that you are in a children’s hospital in the south when the attending doctor looks over to you, her eyes shining with a smile and says in a reassuring voice, “It looks great Mom! Just like smocking!” And I do love me some smocking, not so much on my baby’s face but in any other situation…I asked her if she could go ahead and fit a monogram on there and we shared a little chuckle…I was completely serious…

Before we were allowed to leave, our new friend Conor, whom I think would have kept Lila forever, made sure that she had a fuzzy new teddy bear and stocked her with popsicles. He also carried her out of our room and continued to hold her while I hiked back to the other side of the world to fetch my car.

When I arrived back with the car, Lila was being cuddled by her new father and surrounded by a choir of ladies oohing and aahing over her. She cried when we left. Not when we arrived, not when her face was being put back together, but when we had to leave. Best play date ever….thank you Le Bonheur Children’s Hospital Emergency Room staff. Now, instead of the mermaid party I have been planning for the girls’ upcoming birthday, it seems as though the little girl would like to celebrate her birthday at the hospital, instead.

And as far as that To-Do List, well………I think I have a pretty good excuse for not getting anything accomplished.

Hear Me

I need to first say a huge thank you.  My family and I have received an abundance of calls, texts, comments – little gestures of love since I blogged on Monday.  Little messages from some we know really well and others who are just acquaintances, letting us know that they are thinking and praying for us.  As I was typing that last entry, it wasn’t so much to be a tribute to Poppy, but more so because I just needed to be open and honest about what was going on in my world right now.  Not only were my stories starting to skirt the issue, how do you blog about a beautiful weekend with the family visiting the Zoo Lights when those who shared the weekend with you know what was really going on?  It was time to open up.  I have been preaching to my mom lately about how she needs to let people take care of her, let them come and see her and bring her something if they want.  I’ve really given her a hard time here lately about how other people want a chance to express their love for our family, for Poppy and for her – yet she shuts them out.

I am the pot and she is the kettle

I can’t even begin to describe how much all those little gestures meant to me, every time I checked my email and it said that I had a new comment.  Every time, they made me cry but in a good way, if there is such a thing.  I checked into my blog and Monday and Tuesday I had almost 600 hits each day, then 250+ on Wednesday.  When Lila wants my attention to be on her, whether it be in the car or here at home, when she has something to show me or wants me to listen to she always says, “Hear me Mama”.  The comments, the texts, the messages were beautiful, but more than all of those, seeing that over 1000 people read my words – I definitely felt heard.

Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart for making me feel heard.

**********************************************************

Lila came down the stairs the other morning and asked if we would be wearing real pants today.  “Not if we don’t have to, Sister” was my reply back.  But seeing as this was the last week of school and I had teacher gifts to buy, a fruit tray (which I totally forgot about until just now….oops!) a recital, and all sorts of other things on my to-do list, I followed my previous comment up with, “Maybe we should do a few errands.”

Her reply, “Yeah, we ate all the Sour Patch kids in your bed and the chips are gone, too.” Some could read into that exchange that maybe my parenting had been a little lax here of late.  It’s possible that there has been something lacking in the ways of Early Childhood education and development that I am supposed to be fostering while keeping Lila here at home with me.

I don’t know what your exact definition of real pants is, this may or may not be included

To that, I say I am teaching her something that could never be learned from a book and that is that everyone needs to take a little pause every now and again.  Life is hard, people don’t always play nice and the cards aren’t handed out fairly.  You can get mad and ugly when you are feeling sad, or you can take a day or two in your pajamas eating candy in your bed.  There are probably also some more constructive options in there as well, but this is the material I chose to focus on for this lesson.

But we did put on pants and ended up going for a much needed jog around the neighborhood…….where I ended up losing the garage door opener.  Nothing like that happened when I was content to just cozy up in my bed with my child, a book, My Little Pony and a huge bag of gummy candy.  So see, healthy and constructive ended up being a terrible idea.

I texted Brandon to let him know that I had lost our only functioning garage door opener.  His response was, “Are you locked out, it will be a minute.” I think this laid back calm was mainly due to the fact that I had locked us out just last week and the girls and I (Cybill, Lila, me) spent over an hour just hanging out in the little courtyard by our driveway.

It started out fun, with leaf babies, twirling and singing….lots and lots of singing

Starting to think we are going to have to live out the rest of our lives here, Cybill

Daddy are you coming?

Funny enough, I must have subconsciously planned to drop my garage door opener on our walk because I also brought along my house keys – which if you know me well, you know that this is absolutely crazy.  I am the least prepared person ever.  I think what really happened was that my angel knows that I am operating on auto pilot currently and went ahead and put those keys into my hands and because I am not thinking through anything, I didn’t even question how they got there.  I have found several things in places they do not usually live as of late so it is not surprise to me that my house keys wound up in my jogging stroller unbeknownst to me.

I had really been pretty at peace with the whole idea of our garage door opener being M.I.A – it is what it is.  But then I started thinking about how if anyone else found that opener, they could probably figure out that it had been dropped by a person who lived around here.  And if they just drove around pushing the button while aiming the opener at houses, eventually one would open right up.  That did not sit as peacefully with me, but wow what an incredible motivator! I was so planning on making some sort of excuse to myself this morning not to go on our run, but when you know that you pretty much left an invitation and key to Hannibal Lector to come in and steal your things and your children…….that will light a fire under you like none other.

We said a prayer (which I continued to chant under my breath long after Lila said Amen) and then headed out, through the sea of leaves that would flow continually for our 3.6 mile jaunt.  Our own little needle in our own giant haystack.  We were a third of the way done, past the spot where I had sort of thought it might be because I remembered kicking something that made a metallic sound the day before.  We were just hitting the spot where the sidewalk is sort of washed out, the place I grumble about every time we go this route because no matter if it hasn’t rained in days, its still muddy and I have to maneuver my 0 turning radius jogger up into the yard to avoid it.  And there was my garage door opener, in the slightly muddy yard right where it probably bounced yesterday when I was heaving my running SUV and child out of the dirt.  And the one place where it could have landed on our whole walk, where I wouldn’t hear it either hit the sidewalk or rustle the leaves – was on that soft, semi solid mud.

Lila and I joked that an angel had been sitting in that yard all day and through the night, with their hand just covering the opener – so no one else would notice it, waiting for me to come back and get it.  Because that’s the kind of God that we believe in, the kind who cares about the big, huge things – the wars, the cancer, the starving children – but also a God that loves His children so, so much that even the little things (that are sometimes big to us) matter.  Could I deal with losing the garage door opener, yes.  But did it restore my faith and my hope that My Heavenly Father hears me, has time for ME, and cares about what I care about….absolutely.

Believe what you will today, but I believe that My God knew I needed that whole experience – the exercise ( ugghh yes), the worry and then the reminder that He’s got this.

“I will cast all my cares upon you

I lay all of my burdens, down at your feet

And any time, I don’t know what to do

I will cast all my cares upon you.”

He’s got this.  It might not go how I would like and I don’t for a minute think that this was his idea – but He is right here with me.

**********************************************************

As a tiny P.S – because my mother and I apparently don’t like to tell people things, we have not been very vocal about Poppy and Mom spending the entire past week in Tulsa at the Cancer Treatment Centers of America.  For most of the week, Poppy was in the actual hospital facility dealing with cancer fun and mom was staying in the hotel portion.  They are taking wonderful care of Poppy and we couldn’t ask for anything more from them.  It truly is like a 5 star hotel and Brandon and I are kind of excited about getting to spend Christmas there.

It is beautiful, they are beautiful and from what I hear there food is magnificent, too.  They try to keep lots of activities going on for the people that are there, either as patients or caregivers.  Last night, mom decorated cookies and enjoyed the musical stylings of an Elvis impersonator, who by the way, she said was quite good.  But as much as these things makes me laugh and I’m so grateful that these people go above and beyond to try to keep spirits up, It still makes me sad to realize that because we haven’t shared where they are, no one knew they were there.

For someone who has been in the hospital for a week, there should be balloons and cards and flowers. And especially for someone who would normally love to go out and watch a quality Elvis impersonator, Christmas time in a hospital room in lots of pain is anything but holly and jolly.  If I could ask for anything else, it would be that we could flood Poppy’s room with Christmas cheer.  Flowers, balloons, cards….lots and lots of cards, please send them their way. They will never ask for anything, but I know it would make their day……And the days to come as it doesn’t appear they will be going home until at least Christmas Day.

 

 

I Don’t Want To Talk About It

I hadn’t intended to blog about this – not today at least. I have all sorts of other silly little stories, tales of our weekend and sarcastic little rants about leggings as pants that were on my Monday morning agenda.  However, there was something else that has been trying to push itself to the forefront and today I just didn’t have the strength to push back.  I like that this is my blog and I can share with you what I like.  And I prefer to stick with the things that I would like to look back on a remember years from now.  It might not always be an accurate portrayal of exactly what my lifescape looks like, but by George if that’s the denial I need to live in for the moment, who is anyone to judge.  In a weird and twisted way, I have respect and value for my days spent struggling with postpartum depression…….but would I like to go back and read over posts from those days……probably not.  So I share the funny, the silly and the bad that still has a twist of humor and I like to throw in a feely story every now and again, as well.

But today I just have to be honest

Poppy has cancer

Cancer does NOT have Poppy, and there is a very big difference, but right now there is definitely a very real game of tug-of-war going on.

I first learned about this right around Lila’s first birthday. My parents told me in my kitchen and even though I was a grown up standing in my very own kitchen with my 3rd child on my hip – in my head I think I probably regressed to about 6 years old for a bit.  I listened to their words and I nodded my head and I think there was even some intense scrunching of eye brows like I was really making sense of everything………and then I excused myself to take a shower and cried ugly tears, begging God to fix this. Eighteen months they had said.  Go home and settle your affairs, live it up – for 18 months.

We got lots of bad news, but through it all, Poppy never actually felt sick.  So even though we were hearing these terrible things, he was strong and well and fine and the reality of things never actually made landfall.  He and mom went to California for the summer, to Loma Linda for proton therapy.  It was not only our Hail Mary, it was the only option given after he had bounced around all over this country.  We missed them terribly.  We raised money for cancer instead of accepting gifts for Reese’s 5th birthday.  And when they came home in August, they were tan and healthy.  We had been scared and he actually had to have treatments, but we felt like we had been spared.  He had a great war story now, another level added to his testimony, but we had been spared.

We made jokes about the hormone shots and the menopausal side effects he would be experiencing.  They said he might lose muscle ton and get weaker, so he worked even harder outside – planting ridiculous gardens, mowing the lawn daily and moving around piles of dirt just for the heck of it.  They said he might get depressed, but he only seemed to get sillier.

Eighteen months came and went

Reese didn’t have a 6th birthday party because he decided to embezzle money from his school – you’ll have to go back to the archives to read up on that one – but he did have his Poppy with him that year.  And this summer when he turned 7, we finally got to to that that real live NASCAR race.

It was shortly after we got home from this summer’s beach trip that Poppy’s back really started causing him trouble.  By shortly, I mean the moment the car pulled into the garage and by trouble I mean he hasn’t been able to sleep in his bed because it’s too hard to get back up.

This was more than a strain

Wishful thinking suggested maybe a UTI, a kidney stone maybe?  I have never in my life prayed for a person to have a kidney stone, until a few months ago.

I took the kids to visit Mumsey and Poppy over Labor Day.  We knew the cancer was back, but we were still waiting…..for what, we weren’t sure but he hadn’t been called back by the doctors yet so for that weekend, we enjoyed a last weekend of denial.  The s*%$ can’t hit the fan until you actually see on the scans that it has hit and have a board certified doctor of medical arts tell you that it has hit.  I told my children that Poppy hadn’t been feeling great, so let him rest if he needed to.  Poppy was able to play catch with Reese, so based on that – everything was still right in the world.

The fan was hit promptly after we arrived back in Memphis

I managed about a month to keep the kids in the dark.  We continued to pray for Poppy during worship (*me continually all day long) and I relied heavily on those promises in the Bible that God doesn’t need specifics in the actual prayer. But the time finally arrived when they needed to know the truth.  I needed to step up and stop hiding in my closet to cry and be honest with them.  In my attempt to protect them from the scary and the unknown and the worry, I was starting to have a new anxiety that I might be keeping them from fulfilling some of their own needs.  Lila maybe, but Mattie and Reese aren’t babies anymore.  They have very unique personalities and I knew that they would both need to process the reality of this situation in their own ways.  They would have their own “bucket lists” and I had no right, even if I did have the best of intentions, to deny them their own ways of holding on and letting go of their grandpa.

I told them in the same kitchen where my mama had told me.

Lila didn’t understand, Reese bit the inside of his cheeks and Mattie cried.

They asked a ton of questions, and I have done my best to answer them as vaguely and as honestly as possible – which is not easy, but I am getting pretty awesome at it.  Thankfully, none of them have asked The Question….

But I think they know.

His charts say “Terminal” on them and I have felt myself bracing, even prematurely mourning.  Trying to prepare myself for this “valley of the shadow of death” that I have barely crawled through before.  But how does one prepare for losing someone who is so significant in their life?

I don’t remember a life without him.  I remember their wedding and I remember times before they were married, but I don’t remember my life without him in it. Maybe  nothing else really mattered before then. He wasn’t my father, and he never tried to fill that role exactly.  But he has been there – for the big things like piano recitals, graduations, he was my science teacher for most of my formative years and even standing on my right side as I was walked down the aisle to be given away to Brandon. But he has also been with me through the things that seem small and insignificant, but really end up making up the whole story of our lives.  He has known each of my best friends, remembers each of my broken hearts through high school and knows I’m weird about cheese.  He has taught me lessons and values and no one in this world can make me laugh like him.  He has embarrassed me so many times, but because it was done so hilariously I couldn’t be mad. He never once tried to punish me or discipline me.  I valued too much our mutual respect for one another to ever test him. We have shared sitcoms, ice cream, NASCAR and my musical repertoire would be nothing without his influence in my life.

I remember being so excited when Mattie was finally born, definitely for the obvious reasons, but especially because I would finally have a term of endearment name for him.  No longer would he be called Jerry, but to the rest of the world he would be Poppy.  I finally had a name for this person, to let everyone know that he was way more than just my stepdad or my mother’s husband.

There isn’t a word out there to name what I feel for this person – but Poppy sounds pretty good. You can’t say it without smiling and you can’t know my Poppy without having to grin a little, either.  I love my husband and my children are precious, but if you were to ask me who is my sunshine – that would hands down be my Poppy.

I cannot remember a life without him in it, and imagining what that might look like for my future breaks my heart daily.

I don’t ever ask anything of you readers, except that maybe you come back and read again, because it makes me happy to read over my stats. But today I am asking for your prayers.  Prayers for the crazy, unrealistic miraculous healing of Poppy, but ultimately for God’s will to be done.  I know it’s not everyone in the world’s belief, but I can’t tell you what it does for my heart to believe that even with the hell we may go through – this time on this earth is not forever.  Please pray for his pain, as right now, it is off the charts.  Please pray for his spirits, as it is very hard not to be discouraged when you are hurting so bad.  I know he also worries about mom and the rest of us.  Just as much as our hearts break thinking of him not being here, he is just as much saddened as angry at the idea of not getting to finish this story up with the rest of us. Please pray for my mom that she would let people take care of her and also that God would give her rest as I know she is exhausted.

And pray for me.

I’m not really certain on the specifics for what you should pray for me, but just say Kaylee and I think God will know what you mean.

Following The Star

We have never done the whole “Elf on the Shelf” thing.  I’ve never really pushed the whole Santa bit of Christmas – mainly because my children have always been terrified at the idea of having to tell a strange man in a very garish, red velvet suit what they wished for.  The idea that you could have anything you wished for, but it would be delivered by a strange man who would enter your house while you slept, through your chimney – its really the kind of material that makes for the perfect nightmare.  If Santa can enter through the chimney, who else can?  There are alarm sensors on our doors and windows, does our chimney have anything like that?

Thankfully, my children have learned to sort of go along with the whole Santa thing when they are out and about and strangers speak to them about the big guy with the beard.  I think Lila just thinks Santa is an older man who hangs out in an empty store at our local mall, wears very flashy clothing and has peppermint sticks just lying around.  This being her 4th Christmas season accompanying me for all my hurried shopping, she knows good and well that Mama is the buyer of all those presents under our tree.  There for a while, Reese would look blankly at the person speaking to him and just say, in a very sullen voice, “There is no Santa”. This seemed to really upset people.  To have a 5 year old boy declare to the entire post office that there was no Santa was more disturbing to the masses then if he had announced that his mother beat him.  The disgusted looks I received from my fellow patrons left no question that they thought I was the worst mother in the world.  It only gets worse when he makes these announcements and there are other children present.  I’m pretty sure Reese has ruined the magic for at least 2 dozen families in the East Memphis area alone.

All of this to say that instead of “Elf on the Shelf”, our family has “The Star From Afar”.  My friend Julie knows how much I love a good nativity and understands my desire to make Christmas meaningful without a whole lot of effort.  About a week ago, she sent me a text asking if I had heard about this little game – its a wooden nativity set complete with a star and three wisemen – and of course a book that tells the story of the star that lead these wise men to the baby.  You set up the manger scene somewhere prominent in your house and every day, the start gets hidden. We have made it our nightly worship routine, the kids hunt for the star that has been hidden somewhere in the house.  When the star is found, the 3 kings are placed with the star wherever it is hiding.  The point of this little game is to have the wiremen follow the star every night leading up to Christmas and on Christmas Eve, the star should be placed right above the manager scene.  It sounds lovely doesn’t it? Are you picturing soft candlelight, twinkling Christmas lights and my children in coordinating plaid pajamas tiptoeing around *quietly* seeking out this little wooden star?

Because that’s what I envisioned as I set up the stable and hid the star that first night.

I have no idea why

We have been doing this little nightly ritual for maybe a week now, and so far there have been tears at least 3 nights, blood twice, my favorite porcelain nativity set has been shattered and last night, after a mad dash up the stairs and what sounded like MMA going on through the bedrooms – the wisemen and star were hurled out of Lila’s room as she declared “Get out of my life and my room!” I don’t think her passionate proclamation was intended for the little wooden pieces, but more so her brother and sister.

It seems really weird, and wrong, to tell your children that due to their out of control behavior, they won’t be allowed to seek out the star that lead the wise men to the Baby Jesus every night.  But I did just that.  They get one more chance and then it gets put away until next year.  Who would have thought that the wooden nativity set would be the Christmas item that had to be saved “until your are older”.  We have breakable ornaments on the tree, shatter-able nativity sets scattered about candles, don’t forget the fire hazards…….but its the wooden star and three wiremen that might get shelved until the kids are old enough to drive.

**********************************************************

Last week, Steph me a picture of a fantastic find that she had at Goodwill earlier that day.  This inspired me to do a little Goodwill Hunting at my own favorite location.  I have found some real treasures there and was feeling pretty optimistic when Lila and I arrived. We spent probably over an hour there, and while Steph found adorable designer children’s apparel  – this is what I found:

I don’t know if you can read this or not, but it says “A child’s book about satantic ritual abuse.” What in the what????

I think I was by far the winner that day.

**********************************************************

And lastly, because its Christmas time and you might need a little gift idea…..I have shared these before, but it never hurts to repeat something great.  My friend Ramona makes the most adorable hair pretties and bow ties.  I come up with ideas and shoot her an email and within about 2 weeks, a little package arrives with creations cuter than I could imagine inside.  This was my last request, hair clips for the girls to support the family football team…..and maybe a bow tie for Reese, too.

So cute!  These make fantastic stocking stuffers and really, Ramona can make anything that you dream up.  Sometimes I ask her to just send me whatever she has lying around and I am always thrilled with what arrives.  There aren’t any clips on her site, but check out her Etsy shop Inspired by Faith 3 to place your own order for one of a kind, adorable hair pretties for the little ladies in your life.

 

 

What Do You Want, Kaylee?

My husband just presented me with a question and I am having a very hard time answering it.  Its a simple inquiry really, but try as I may, I just haven’t been able to give him a response.  I’m wondering if anyone else out there has the same problem.

Here is this question, “Hey hon – what would you like for Christmas this year?”

Simple enough, right?

I can easily go into Target and spend $100 in 5 minutes, obviously I don’t have a problem coming up with things that I would like to own.  But when presented with “what would you like”, well that just becomes all sorts of difficult.

Hmmmmmm, what’s something that I need? Well, since I typically do most of the shopping around here and tend to be the one who keeps up with who needs new underwear or who is running low on socks….I usually take care of my own needs when taking care of everyone else’s.  Its part of my job as The Baughman Family Domestic Engineer.  So again, I don’t really need anything.

Again Kaylee, “What would you like?”

I would like for that limb that has impaled our little shed out in the back yard, to be removed…….and all the damage it has caused to magically disappear.  I would like to come home and find that my bathroom upstairs, the one that I told Brandon we didn’t need to have to painters do because its so small and I can easily paint it myself in one naptime – I am ready for it to be painted and I have come to terms that I’m not the one that is going to do it.

He’s standing there giving me a look, he may also be rolling his eyes.

And this is where things get complicated.

Well, my slippers have a small hole in them where Cybill chewed on them and the fur is worn off in spots in the inside.  They have definitely seen better days and I got them the year before Reese was born.  But they are Uggs and though I have definitely made good use out of them, they were rather pricey………and a gift in the first place.  I fell in love with a painting by a local artist here a few months ago and it would look incredible in that space above my bed that has been impossible to fill.  But I don’t want the cheaper, $30 one, the one I want costs about as much as one of the student loan payments we make every month.  I would love a new pair of Tory Burch shoes.  Again, I was gifted with a beautiful pair over 3 years ago and I have definitely worn my husbands money out of them.  They still look okay, but I’m expecting any day now to get a letter from Tory herself telling me it’s time to let the shoes go.  And those Frye boots I saw when I was supposed to be hunting for new running shoes for Brandon……..they can come live at my house anytime.

All of these things that I would love, but I really don’t feel like paying for.  And because my husband and I aren’t independently wealthy from one another or even dependently wealthy together – it seems rather ridiculous to ask him to buy things using the bank account that we share and all the funds are already spoken for.

So…..what do I want for Christmas?  Does anyone else have this problem?

I’ll tell you who doesn’t have this issue and has no idea the difference between practicality and ridiculous.  This is the girl who walked into the store the other day, did a little twirl with her arms outstretched and proclaimed to all who would listen, “I want everything in this storwa!” We went by the visit with Santa the other day, I thought she was going to tell him the novel that is her wishlist.  Instead, they made conversation about cookies and how real ponies aren’t pink and don’t live in your room.  She wouldn’t sit by him, touch him or make direct eye contact, and as we left I asked her why she wanted to go and see him in the first place.

I had to sneak this picture, we weren’t going to be purchasing a package and the elf staff frown on mother’s using their own cameras to capture even a conversation

Without missing a beat she replied, “I wanted a candy cane.” And then proceeded to march to the car.

Mission accomplished – girl knew what she wanted and made it happen

 

I think our children were beginning to think that maybe we were switching to Judaism this December – with the whole lack of anything remotely Christmasy in our house.  I’m pretty fond of my Christian faith and believe whole-heartedly in it, but Hanukkah decorations seem far less involved than bringing an entire evergreen into your home for a few weeks. And since the kids don’t really know what to expect for this particular holiday, I felt like this could be the year to just “appreciate” cultures other than our own.

But the other night, Reese and Brandon brought all our Christmas decor down from the attic. While the kids were at school, Lila and I found homes for my dozen nativity sets (I love nativity sets!) and I contemplated putting together my dining room table centerpiece.  It’s nothing super ornate or anything, just glass balls filling different sized vases, but there is a little trick to it and it does involve a tiny bit of thinking.  Every year, I forget which vases I used before and inevitably, I have purged some of those essential vases.  And every year I say to myself, “We are doing something different next year”…….I guess this little table top decorating is a tradition all in itself.

Last night, Brandon took the girls to go pick out a tree *Reese, Captain Christmas, didn’t get to go because he was caught telling a fib to both his father and I.  As part of his 1st grade daily “homework” he is to read or be read to for at least 15 minutes every day in order to earn his points.  It is not required, but he is very motivated by a reward system and works very hard to get his daily maximum points.  Anyway, he has figured out (or rationalized) that if he has read a book at all, it counts as his daily 15 minutes.  For the past two days, he has been telling me that he read a book (which he had……about 3 weeks ago) and I have been writing it down….being an accomplice to give robbing of the point bank.  So once Husband and I caught on that Reese is a reading hustler, we had to teach a little lesson – hence the not being included in the tree picking out.* The tree was at home when the boy and I arrived back from an Adventurers meeting at church.  It was standing regally in the playroom corner, filling our house with the Christmas spirit, which we could smell before we even got in the house.  I think there may have been a sappy struggle in the driveway while the tree was being freed from the top of the car, leaving a trail through our front yard – something tells me Mattie wasn’t much help to her dad.  Something else tells me that they probably put on quite a show for the neighbors and I hate that I missed that.  Nonetheless, the dragging of the tree down the sidewalk left a delightfully festive scent that welcomed us to the holiday season before we even opened the front door.

The tree looked so lovely, it was very tempting to just leave it the way it was, all natural and elegant…..

Okay, maybe the red and green netting isn’t exactly the tree in its natural state.  But its still festive and it would be way easier for the kids to hang decorations on it that way then trying to find just the right branches…….I’m just saying, it could work.

We finally freed the tree right before we went to bed and my life plan for today is to get the lights on before the kids get home from school.  No one likes putting the lights on and Brandon always uses flattery to get me to do it. “You’re the only one who can do it Kaylee, I’m far to big to get back there and string all the lights…..but you, so petite and thin, its no problem at all. ” Then he usually throws in something about having carried 3 babies (let me add that they were all very small and came early so my baby weight gain is an unfair advantage over someone who may have gone full term) and well, I am a sucker for flattery.

So far, Cybill has been rather underwhelmed by the timber in our house.  I was expecting she would attack it at least once upon its arrival.  I anticipated there to be lots of barking and growling at it and had even googled whether or not dog pee would kill a live tree (even faster, because we kind of killed it when we cut it down.)  But this was about the extent of her interactions with the tree:

And I can’t help but think she looks a lot like a small puma sauntering around our living room in that picture.

**********************************************************

On a completely different note, Lila watched a little show the other day that featured a cowgirl.  Actually, she was the sheriff and I have been reminded several times that there is a difference between being just a cowgirl and being the sheriff, but that is neither here nor there.  When Lila is exposed to something, just like my other children, if she likes it she tends to throw herself into it whole heartedly.  Like Reese wearing his Batman costume for ages 4-6, Mattie trying out every closet she finds to see if it leads to Narnia, and how both of the older kids critique their meals just like the judges on Top Chef and Cutthroat Kitchen.  I can’t tell you how many times that I have been told that their sandwiches at lunch “exploded with a certain nuttiness” – that’s because they were PB&J.

So it came as no surprise that after watching the sheriff cowgirl show, Lila also wanted to be a sheriff in the wild west.  Before we headed out to pick the big kids to school, she said she needed to change into her sheriff clothes.  She doesn’t have cowboy boots so she went with rain boots, makes sense enough.  But this one took me a bit to figure out:

It’s a bit abstract Bird, but thanks to your explanation I now completely see cowboy hat.  I think its hilarious and what’s even funnier is that she is super proud of it.  Her sister is absolutely mortified that her sibling is not just wearing, but WEARING, owning and flaunting –  completely sassing it up wearing a basket on her head.  Which is the main reason that I am encouraging it so much.

This was on day 3 of wearing the basket hat

One of these days, they will all be grown up and relatively normal.  They will still probably enjoying harassing one another, and will have a good laugh at the others’ expense – but I’m pretty sure they won’t go to such extremes once they are aware of others perception of them.  So I am taking advantage of these moments when I can while I can.

Happy Friday, Happy Holidays and let me encourage you to let your creative adventurer come out this weekend!

 

Avoidance

I have about 5 minutes.  Not 5 minutes to type, though that could easily be true, but 5 minutes before things get really messy, chaotic, a little anxiety-ridden, but with a hearty serving of happy in there, too. The Fall decorations have come down and are packed up in their bins, waiting for their trip back up to the attic.  I am in full support of their voyage back into the dark over my garage.  But once they go up, something else must come down…………

……………..the Christmas decorations!!!!!

My house is currently dressed in just our regular, any other day, knick-knacks and there is an unseasonal candle burning.  There is absolutely nothing in my home that would give off any indicator of what month it now is and I have to be honest, I am kinda enjoying it.  I was getting tired of pumpkin spice everything and its been kinda nice to have a day or two of just hazelnut in my coffee before diving right in to peppermint.

I’m not sure if I’m feeling Scroogey this year, or if the fact that it has been raining so much and we weren’t able to go and get our Sunday after Thanksgiving Christmas tree just has me off balance.  I think what it really comes down to is that I am feeling lazy.  Not so much lazy about setting up all the decorations, but definitely lazy about the taking them all down again part.  I think I’m also feeling a little lazy about the vortex that is Christmas.  There are tons of magically delightful events, surprises and traditions surrounding our holiday, but once the ride gets started it’s going to be at least 25 days of insanity.  Often pleasant insanity, more manic really, but definitely insane.  And really, I’ve created it all myself.

When there was only the one, or even two but they were little, I tried to do special things with them.  Make those meaningful traditions, either that I had done when I was little or that looked super cute in my Parent’s Magazine…..because my time was the best gift I could give them, right?   But now, 3 kids in and time going faster and faster – even those free, easy to do little sparkles are getting harder and harder to keep up with and even remember to do.  We have our little advent calendar, a little door to open every day leading up to Christmas.  I used to just put a little piece of candy in there, or a quarter….very low-key.  But then they got bigger and started hoarding the candy and soon after the squabbles about “that’s not your quarter, that’s mine I didn’t get mine yesterday” just sucked the fun out of that. So then I started putting activities in the doors, things like coco before bed under the tree.  But that can become a little difficult too.  When you find yourself yelling to your children about hurrying up with the dinner and showers, so you can enjoy a relaxing memory under the tree before the clock strikes 8:30 – a little of the glitter gets lost.

I also get a little (a lot) overwhelmed with gift buying.  I decided a few years back to go with the 4 gift rule – Something you want, something you need, something to wear and something to read.  In my head, I felt like this would really simplify things….it even rhymes. But it has actually proved to still be its own kind of complicated.  What if the something they want is actually something they can wear?  Or if the something they need is school uniform pants and that’s just a terrible gift to open Christmas morning?! So far this year, Reese’s something he needs is a new raincoat and Lila’s is a new duvet cover for the big girl bed we have yet to set up for her.  I think at this point, Brandon and I are enjoying the challenge of seeing if we can keep the girl in her crib until she starts school. I know, these are all real desperate problems aren’t they?

I guess what it all really comes down to is that I feel very busy and rushed during Christmas, I love it and treasure it – but I also worry that the real point of the holiday is getting missed even though I work so hard to make it meaningful…..too often losing my own joy because my family isn’t responding with the level of sincerity or giving spirit as I feel they should be.

So this year, I’m hanging on to this moment before our Christmas Shuttle launches.  I’m going to drink my normally flavored coffee and wear my not Christmas plaid pajamas, staring at only the dog kennel decorating the corner of my living room. I’m going to get my head together, not to make this that elusive unicorn known as “The Best Christmas Ever”, but one that we all enjoy.  One where Mama doesn’t lose it because its already December 10th and she hasn’t taken the Christmas Card picture yet or where I feel like having a panic attack because I can’t find the perfect “Dirty Santa” gift….because everyone knows that the party is only good if the perfect mix of desirable, as well as wretched gifts are brought.

I think at this point, my kids still love Christmas, but my days are numbered, before they start remembering more of the “Mama lost her mind” moments.

And on a completely random note, you probably can’t see this reading at home, but WordPress has changed things up a bit.  One of those changes is my little control panel bar thingy at the top and I cannot find the icon to spellcheck.  Every now and then, I read old posts and it doesn’t appear from those that I really believe in editing.  But I always gave each post at least a run-thru of good ol’ spellcheck before I put it on display.  So that is just my public service announcement that I know there are probably spelling/grammar issues in this, but I would rather think about my plan to simplify Christmas than to read back over this and fix them.