Date Night

Lee & I went out on a date last nite. Part of the time was spent shopping for clothes which was not his idea nor was it preapproved. Most of the time, if I know that my husband is not going to want to do something, I don't forewarn him. I just spring it on him last minute. I know that this is fairly inconsiderate and probably obnoxious, but I have enough charm that I never get in trouble for this technique. As I mentioned in my last entry, I've been busy with a lot of nonsense lately (we refer to this as 'scurrying sickness'-my inability to sit still) so the poor guy has been subjected to a higher than usual concentration of activities. For example, last weekend we dog-sat for 3 dogs and my 6 year old nephew spent the night while my step-mother-in-law was visiting for the weekend. And we had 2 parties. And my daughter had a birthday party which required one of us (me) leaving the dogs and the step-mother-in-law at home while I sat for two hours at one of those jumpy-house places. And I had to teach Sunday School. And we had a 4th dog over for part of the weekend. And I convinced my husband that it was a good time to paint our daughter's bedroom. This weekend I suprised him with family pictures at 8:30 this am and a pool party from noon to 3 (I was hosting of course) and another birthday party that he had to act as chauffer and sit for an hour and a half (after he had come to the pool party for at least an hour and a half).

So date nite, which had been fairly routine in our household, has sort of taken a back seat to my mania (which after just reading the above paragraph I realized, "Shit, I sound manic"). Sensing that my husband's last thread of patience was about to snap, I arranged for our sitter to stay late last nite so we could go out and make an attempt at a peaceful evening. Dinner was okay-Turkish food; our favorite. After dinner I let him know about the pictures, but I don't think I said anything like, "Oh, I forgot to tell you that we are having pictures done tomorrow morning at 8:30 am" because I know that in man-mind this translates into something like, "I don't really give a shit what you want to do b/c I'm a crazy female and I make all the rules and if you know what is best, you'll just sit quietly and comply. Just do as your told." I think I just told him what was happening. Something like, "Let's go get some white shirts for the pictures we are having done tomorrow morning. We can quickly go into Banana Republic. (And Kids Gap. And The Gap. And Ann Taylor)." Giving him an option of having photos taken and actually shopping for the apparrel is the man-equivalent of Chinese water torture. It's complete emasculinization. He was a pretty good sport the first two stores and then he had to stop at Starbucks to fortify himself. Now that I think about it, I went into Chico's while he talked on the phone to, ironically enough, his friend Chico (Leland the man-wife). I think I went into the store and then his friend called and he sat outside on a bench (maybe while he was in Starbucks he called Leland and told him to call-an SOS). By the time I made my last stop (who knew that finding white shirts could be so complicated) under the guise of getting a parking validation he was no longer polite. As I walked into the store I think he said to me, "What the hell are you doing?" I never noticed that it was so hard to be married to me till reading this. He managed to pry me away from the allure of impulse-shopping and needless consumption (mostly b/c the stores closed at 9 pm) and we went and played Scrabble at a place called "The Chocolate Bar."

On our way there, our babysitter called us. To be precise, she allowed our 6 year old who was wailing to call us. He was incomprehensible through the sobs. There was no crisis. No one had a missing limb or had swallowed poison. He simply missed me and she felt that the appropriate decision was to allow him to dial the phone. I guess she and I have different algorhythms in our "Babysitting 101" book. In my book, the bifurcation pointing to "call parents" is only used if someone is on fire or bleeding profusely. As this was not the case, I was annoyed. I was paying her to listen to my kid cry unconsolably and without reason. She's been our babysitter forever and it's not like she is some pimply adolescent. She is 30 years old and the mother of two children. After he quit crying long enough for me to say, "Put the babysitter on the phone", I gave her some trouble-shooting tips like "turn on the TV". After two more phone calls of having to listen to my other 2 children's tales of woe ("It's too hard to listen to them-the younger 2-cry. Can't you come home?") I was finally able to tame the beast by making promises of candy.

As we were walking out of The Chocolate Bar, Lee made the comment that there were a lot of geeks and nerds in the place and then he noticed the Scrabble box under his arm.

Tonite we are having a redo of date nite. Wish Lee luck.

Joshua 9:14 "So the Isrealite leaders examined their bread, but they did not consult the Lord."

Bitch Session

My friend told me that she thought I was trying to run away from myself and that irritated me. I've been spread a bit thin lately, by my own doing, and I'm kind of tired of it. We were sitting outside on my new 2 seated rocker and she started analyzing me. I didn't appreciate it. Once before she questioned my recent busy travel itinerary and my decision to have liposuction and she wondered where I was getting all the money and if the many trips were causing instability in my children. I told her about the 'accelerated living' theory attempting an explanation. My husband reminded her, regarding my liposuction, that perhaps I deserved it after the shit my body has gone through in the last 15 months. So, a few days ago when we were sitting on the rocker, after I expressed my recent fatigue, she says to me, questioningly, "Accelerated living? Maybe you are trying to run away from yourself." Bitch. When I need pop psychology I'll watch Oprah, Dr. Phil or read Cosmo thank you very much! Then again, maybe I'm so sensitive because she struck a nerve. I'm sure to a certain extent I am trying to avoid some things. But shit, what am I supposed to do, sit aroung and contemplate my mortality? Think about the ways that I am f_cked? I don't know if there is a right way to do this. I'm certain there are lots of wrong ways to do it, but there are lots of wrong ways to live life cancer or not. Just because I'm not suscribing to the ways someone else thinks I should be living my life am I supposed to change how I do things? I know the pendulum is going to swing the other way and I am going to settle down. I can't keep up this pace forever. I guess I just want understanding, not judgement.

That's the weird thing about having had cancer. People, with very good intentions, come up to you and ask you how you are feeling. I'll tell you how I'm feeling; I'm feeling sick of this shit, dammit. I'm sick of people telling me that I look really good, almost shocked. Tell me that I look pretty, tell me that you like my shoes, tell me that my tits look great. Just don't tell me that I look good with this sorrowful smile on your face. I just want to be normal. I want to talk about things that everyone else talks about; my kids, the weather, Brad & Angelina. I don't want sympathetic inquiries. I don't even have a burial plot yet. Hell, I still don't know if I want to be buried or cremated. I know all of this sounds really ungrateful and I'm aware of that. But I don't want to be the elephant in the room. If I'm going to be the elephant, I'm going to sit right down and put my feet on the coffee table and pop open a beer and stay awhile.

I guess I've vented enough for one night. I'll be nice next time, I promise.

Fish Lives

I'm taking a break from my household responsibilities. That's kind of funny, because most of my existance has been based on the principle of avoiding manual labor, which for me, includes house work. I told Lee that I think I'm going to have to go back to work eventually because I'm a terrible housewife and I spend all of my time doing ridiculous things like shelving books at my kids' school or making photo books for their teacher appreciation gifts, so I might as well get paid to do something so we can pay someone to clean our house on a regular basis (woefully, our housekeeper/nanny only comes 3 days a week now).

Tonite Lee and I are going to graduation for Baylor College of Medicine. One of our friends is graduating (go Tamela!), which is my excuse. He actually likes to go every year and get in the whole graduation regalia. The cap and gown thing lost its excitement a while back for me. I guess when you are in academia this is the time of the year to exercise your ego. Since we are not high on the food chain at Baylor we don't get to sit on stage. The president of the school and various deans sit up on the stage and say all sorts of nice things about the graduates before they sneak out back well before the ceremony ends. I guess you get your photo op with the president as you walk across the stage to get your diploma. When I graduated, Dr Michael DeBakey handed us our diplomas, which I guess now is kind of cool considering he is almost 100 years old and his name is probably going to be synonymous with Osler (in the medicine world) if it's not already.

We only have 2 goldfish now and I thought we were just about down to one. The one that was replaced a million times has been looking a little agonal. For the past day or two he would only swim if you tapped on the glass. Mostly he just floated there. I considered using him as fertilizer, but thought I'd wait till he was actually dead before I poured him into the flower bed. I asked my husband if I thought we should try to revive him by changing his water. "F_ck him!" was his response. "That's what I was thinking too," I replied. I shook a few flakes into his bowl and figured that I'd be able to recycle him this morning. Mr. Fish has come back to life. The little f_cker was swimming around his bowl like a champ this afternoon. I told Lee and he said, disappointedly, "Yeah, I know. I saw him this morning." If they can survive in our garage in the summer heat then I suppose they deserve to live. Can fish haunt you?

Philippians 4:4-8

"4 Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice! 5 Let everyone see that you are considerate in all you do. Remember, the Lord is coming soon.

6 Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. 7 Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

8 And now, dear brothers and sisters, one final thing. Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise. 9 Keep putting into practice all you learned and received from me—everything you heard from me and saw me doing. Then the God of peace will be with you."

The World According to Boys

I'm eavesdropping on my sons' conversation. They have a friend over to spend the nite. Basically, what I am listening to is "The World According to 6 & 7 Year Old Boys". Who knew that these boys had expertise in such broad and varied subjects? Before I sent them to bed (that was an hour ago), they asked me for an alarm clock so they could set if for 1 am. As if I would do this? I already know they are going to be up at the crack of dawn, so I don't need them in there fooling around any earlier with an alarm clock's assistance.

Summers are supposed to be about times like this. Having friends over and staying up way too late and doing absolutely nothing the next morning. It's not quite summer, but everyone is ready for it. I think we are all in summer mode already. I don't think my husband has the same philosophy that I do. He seemed fairly disgruntled that the boys were not going to be in bed by 8 pm. Spoil sport! These are the times that your kids remember that their mom was cool. As Brigadere General around here, I've got to play my cards right and let them get away with things sometimes.

They keep sneaking out here to see if I am awake. If there is one thing I know, it's boys. Their friend just walked back into the room and boy-whispered, "She's still awake!" I know that there is some kind of mischief underfoot and what they don't realize is that I am smarter than they are. So, if I don't outlast them (which is unlikely), I'll be shutting the whole operation down and telling them they have to go to sleep. Right now they are having a discussion about whales, dolphins and orcas and their commonalities and differences. Apparently, according to their friend, dolphin is pretty easy to speak.

I think this is why Jesus said "let the little children come to me." They are so damn cute and so real.

Deep Thoughts

I've been giving God the cold shoulder lately. I know this is completely ludicrous and I'm not really backing God into any corners by this bit of manipulation, but I'm having a hard time with certain circumstances lately. Actually I'm starting to come around and warm up to Him b/c I kind of miss Him. I know He can take it and that is the great thing. He doesn't care if I am irritated or disgruntled with Him. There is so much for which I am grateful. But on the whole, His ways are not my ways this is sometimes difficult to digest. It's not even so much that I don't trust Him. At this point I pretty much have complete trust in Him, whether the circumstances are good or bad, but I guess even though I trust Him, I can still not like the circumstances.

Yesterday my eldest and I went out to dinner together. This is the kid who shoots out questions like a semi-automatic weapon. You can't answer the first one before he is asking another and frequently you can't even hear yourself think b/c he is just interrogating you. I think he can hear about 7 conversations at once b/c he always wants to know every little detail of these conversations (and mostly they don't concern him). This is the same kid, who 2 days ago while we were driving home from dinner, I hear telling his little brother, reminiscently, "I had a poop like that once (like a gun-I guess they were discussing guns?). It had a trigger and a couple of bullets coming out of it". Lee informed me that this is boy conversation 101-stories of your best poops ever. Anyway, while at dinner, he and I had just about the sweetest conversation that we've ever had. He understands so much. Lee and I have tossed around the idea of having a post chemo, post surgery, everything is finally over with, party. The momentum was pretty big early on, but as time has passed, I've been hot and cold about it. My eldest refers to this party as "the chemotherapy party". He asks about it all the time. "When are we going to have the chemotherapy party"? Yesterday at dinner he asked about it again. I said, "what if we don't have a party?" He said it would be okay, but then just as quickly said that we would be having one b/c there wasn't a justifiable reason not to in his mind. At that moment I realized the party was important for him not for the sake of having a party, but for what it signifies. I asked him if the party was important to him and why it was important and he immediately confirmed what I suspected. "Mom, when we have the party, it just means that it is all over. And so many people prayed for you and for us, long and hard, and they need to come because they prayed long and hard." I've known that this journey isn't just about me, but that moment crystalized it for me; that this has so affected my kids and not just in negative ways, but in many positive and meaningful ways. He needs a tangible turning point for closure and healing and he also needs to express gratitude to people that he knows have helped us along the way. After we went through some of the details of his vision of the party (and he was very clear and specific about the size of the venue, the people who needed to be invited and the timing of the party. He was spot-on too), he made me seal the deal with a promissary high five. He was so certain after that high five, with a smile of confidence on his face. This is what he needs to be able to confidently move forward with his life and to feel with some certainty that his mom is going to be okay. The other really cool thing that he did was express gratitude to me for the fact that his father and I actively chose to move him from his prior school to his current school. He thanked me for placing him in his current school and for having him continue there. The whole evening wss so pleasurable and it made me happy to spend time with my thoughtful and insightful kid. Those rare one on one moments are so precious and allow you opportunities to see their true personalities.

The other day I was at Fiesta, a quasi developing-world shopping experience. Usually they have Mo-Town playing and you can buy all sorts of exoctic international fare. I was there to buy leche quemada for my daughter's teachers' gift appreciation basket. Shopping there makes me smile because I feel very Bohemian and like I am traveling to some cool Central American county. Most shoppers at Fiesta are either Asian or on some kind of federal public assistance. What Fiesta lacks in costumer service, they make up for in gritty charm. While I was at the check-out counter, I decided I'd do my part to help the enviroment and I said to the lady bagging groceries, "Paper please". She, in true Fiesta employee style, ignored me. I repeated myself, but this time louder. Again, no response. A third time I made my request and she continued to ignore me. I was starting to get perturbed and after initially thinking, "typical", my next, sarcastic thought was, "Dammit, is she deaf?" Turns out that Claudette, my check out lady, was indeed deaf. I felt very small. By the way, Fiesta's method of giving you paper bags isn't saving any marine animals from the evil plastic bags b/c they put every paper bag inside of a plastic bag. After I'd just humiliated myself with the deaf lady, I figured I wasn't going to make a scene with the paper bags.

Psalm 40: 5

O Lord my God, you have performed many wonders for us.
Your plans for us are too numerous to list.
You have no equal.
If I tried to recite all your wonderful deeds,
I would never come to the end of them

When Every Idea is a Bad Idea

I had stage 2 of my reconstructive surgery yesterday. This means I now have nipples. Currently, they are being protected by a piece of a 5 cc syringe (imagine cutting a piece of a straw). I have to wear these little plastic pieces for 2 weeks and then they will take them off and take out the stitches. In 6 weeks Dr. Spiegal will tattoo some color into the nipples. I am so ready to be done with all of this. I know I should just be grateful and I am. But, I'm also ready to no longer be a patient. It's amazing how much can transpire in one year. As a little bonus, I had liposuction on my hips. She sucked out 700 cc of fat. Amazingly the liposuction hurts worse than the breasts. I imagine it is because the breasts don't have any sensation in them. Anyway, enough about my girl parts.

I'm breaking out my best mothering skills right now by allowing my children to sit slack-jawed in front of Sponge Bob. My mom was here all day, but I think she could't take it anymore so she fled the scene. She had all sorts of patience at the beginning of the day, but by the end of the day she agreed with me that my daughter should get dropped into school tomorrow. It's hard to be the benevolent grandmother when your grandchildren are acting like brats! I'm trying to give them some leeway. I think another surgery brought anxieties to the surface, especially with my eldest. It's so hard to be compassionate and give them what they need when you're tired, grouchy and sore. My daughter accidently stepped on one of my incisions and I almost went through the roof.

Lee and I have a theory. Every idea that a boy has is a bad idea. I can't think of one good idea that they (my sons) have had. The other day my middle son wanted his big brother to double dare him to jump of a ledge on his razor scooter. This is while he had his rigid boot on his foot. His big brother would have dared him had I not been there to stop it. I reminded my oldest that his little brother didn't need an excuse to act foolish, that it came naturally to him. Just one example, but they are all similarly bad.

The middle son has to take a collection of objects to school for homework. He is taking a collection of plastic knives. Hopefully he won't be expelled for this (this might be a bad idea on my part considering the kid). Other than cheerios, it is the only thing of which we had 50 items (no one ever uses the knives in the plastic cutlery sets). He had to write why this collection was special to him and his answer was "It's not." I found the humor in this and maybe his teacher will too.

From Streams in the Desert, compiled by Mrs Charles Cowman

"It is not necessary to be always speaking to God or always hearing from God, to have communion with Him; there is an inarticulate fellowship more sweet than words. The little child can sit all day long beside its busy mother and, although few words are spoken on either side, and both are busy, the one at his absorbing play, the other at her engrossing work, yet both are in perfect fellowship. He knows that she is there, and she knows that he is all right. So the saint and the Saviour can go on for hours in the silent fellowship of love, and he be busy about the most common things, and yet conscious that every little thing he does is touched with the complexion of His presence, and the sense of His approval and blessing."