Category: Family

Limbo, Limbo, Limbo

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Just trying to keep things normal here in my house, for my kids, and for my husband and myself, as we sit here in Oncology Limbo getting through a few more days until we have a better idea of what he’s fighting and how the hospital plans to fight it.

For the record, he will be treated at one of the best cancer hospitals in the country; I was there for my non-cancer surgery 6 months ago and we are comforted by the first-hand knowledge of the wonderful care I received as a patient in that hospital.

I am comforted by relatives and friends alike who have showed us so much care and concern (and made offers to help that I know enough to accept–and will do so soon). Some of these people are fighting their own battles with cancer right now. But they have reached out anyway–that means so much. Other friends have beaten cancer in the past.

Today I received a lot of encouragement from Pat Gohn. We were supposed to be recording a conversation to be used in her Among Women podcast, “Midlife Madres” series. I don’t know if Pat got anything she can use or not, but she knows how to listen and she knows what it’s like to go through this kind of scary time. I am grateful for each and every minute we spent on the phone today.

As I told Pat at one point, I am wrestling right now. There will be many decisions to be made. There will be things I’ll have to “outsource” to others, kids’ games I’ll miss, plans I’ll need to lay aside. It’s not so much a “why me?” kind of wrestling as it is a “how do I handle all of what we’ve got going on and keep our collective sanity relatively intact?”

I might look calm on the outside, but my unscientific research is showing that hot flashes increase exponentially along with one’s stress levels. Every so often it reaches its peak and the hot flashes bring along impatience, anger and, yes, tears. Even when I try my hardest to keep that from happening. So yes, calm on the outside, but my stomach is in knots and I think those knots are extending to the rest of me, because my pain level is off the charts today.

But there’s a rosary in my pocket, ever ready for a prayer or ten. I’m getting to daily Mass as much as possible. I’m thankful for the encouragement and advice I have received. And when this after-dinner cup of (decaffeinated) Irish tea doesn’t cut it, like now, I’m glad there’s a carton of chocolate-peanut-butter-cup ice cream in the freezer.

Upside Down

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I spent the morning yesterday in a hospital waiting room. My husband was there for same-day, minor surgery. I drank a lot of coffee, prayed the Rosary, and tried to ignore the overly-loud, overly-large TVs. I was nervous, of course, but not very worried, because we’d been told so many times that it was ” probably nothing.”

I should have known that my uncharacteristic optimism was misplaced.

I kept thinking to myself that it would be No Big Deal, all the while in denial of just how easily No Big Deal can turn into a Very Big Deal Indeed. Minor can go to major in less time than it takes to spell my last name. And your whole world turns upside down as the surgeon says those 3 words nobody wants to hear.

As we try to let it all sink in, as we think of how to find the words to make the kids understand, we simultaneously scribble down specialists’ phone numbers on Post-It notes and assemble folders full of referrals, test results and form after form after form after form.

It is all these details, I think, that will make me crazy and at the same time keep me from going crazy. If I concentrate on the details, I won’t have to think about the big picture. I don’t want to see the forest for the trees.

We will have to wait more than a week before the next step can be taken, before all the results are in and appointments can be made with just the right doctors. And all those other minor-league problems we’ve been dealing with? We’re not feeling the need to deal with those just now. Can we please just put that stuff on the back burner for a while?

One thing at a time, Lord. It’s hard to turn this over when I want to take the ball myself and run with it. I’m a ball-hog in that regard, just as much as some of the hotshots on Little Brother’s soccer team. It’s hard to turn it over because if I abandon it, if I relinquish the control I try to hard to maintain, I might just go to pieces when it is least convenient.

Mom doesn’t get to fall apart, you know. That’s a rule. And if nothing else, I’m a rule-follower.

Even–perhaps especially–when our world has just been turned upside down.

Pray for my husband, if you would; for his doctors; for the kids and for me as we negotiate this new and scary road.

And thank you to Barbara for the beautiful Rosary!

This, That and The Other Thing: Freelance Edition

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You know what’s cool? When they pay you to rant about stuff that you’d probably rant about anyway. At least, that’s what I get to do over at one of my shopping blogs. As long as I can segue over to a coupon at the end, it’s all good. Over there today, I tell the story of what happened last night when Middle Sister was getting ready for her friend’s birthday party.

You know what’s not cool? Learning a real-life lesson about intellectual property…the hard way. I was hired to write some articles for websites that focus on building a personal brand and developing an “online portfolio.” I was asked to provide a biography and a photo. About two weeks after completing those articles, more were requested. I visited the websites to get an idea of other content on the topics I was assigned, and I found one of my articles from the first batch, attributed to someone else who (according to the person who hired me) is a fictional persona. Let it be known that in the future I will be a lot more protective of the copyright on any of my writing, because clearly I cannot claim authorship of those articles for my own online portfolio. Notice the irony there?

That led to a whole big dilemma for me last weekend, culminating in my decision not to do any more work for that group of websites. I was very afraid that I would burn a bridge, because I do have a very good working relationship with the person who hired me to do that and several other projects. Fortunately she was understanding (and as surprised as I was about what happened) and she asked me if I’d like to continue working on future projects with her (yay!)

It was a tough couple of days, but my husband and kids stood behind me and encouraged me not to work for someone who would put a different person’s name on my articles even if it meant a loss of business. And once I sent out that email explaining why I would not do more work for that website group, I felt so good. I knew I had made the right decision and was so happy to learn that I have not burned a bridge when it comes to other projects.

Book Review: WorkShift

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It’s a book that came along at just the right time for me: the beginning of a new school year is always a great time to put things into perspective and get a handle on a new routine. Add to that a HUGE increase in the writing projects I’ve got going, and there’s potential for a just-as-huge increase in unscheduled craziness, fatigue and resentment.

(As background, because I don’t talk about this here much: I do social-media work for a local video-production company, am a shopping content editor for Internet Brands, and do other freelance writing and SEO projects as well as my commitment to Catholicmom.com’s Tech Talk column and 4 hours per week volunteer service in Little Brother’s school library. The writing work is part-time, on my schedule, and the money’s not huge but it works for my family’s situation at this time.)

On the day I started reading WorkShift, I was elbow-deep in a to-do list with no energy (or motivation) to get any of it done. I figured that time spent with this book would be time well-spent. The many, many real-life examples inspired me. There were moms with infants, moms with kids in grade school, moms in many lines of work.

Of course, no situation completely matched mine, but that’s not really the point. It’s good to know that there are plenty of families out there who are making it work–finding ways to keep moms at home for their families yet enabling them to contribute to the family budget, stay active professionally, and work creatively.

Five years ago today I wouldn’t have dreamed that I’d actually be earning money by writing–without even having to leave my own home to do it. Of course, there are some projects that are more fun than others, but as my husband always says, “They call it work for a reason.”

What I need to remember is that no work project is worth resenting a twice-a-week soccer-practice schedule (though I do reserve the right to be exasperated when Coach keeps the kids on the field after it’s too dark to see each other, the ball, the goal or the coach).

As I read this book, I found myself grabbing Post-It notes and index cards so I could scribble down ideas for how to set up a work schedule this year that leaves room for family, flexibility, and even a little fun. And then I reached the final chapter, where author Anne Bogel has listed plenty of resources (both print and online) to help do just that. The additional structure that I’m going to try to plug into my workday should benefit me, my family and my employers.

Are you interested in reading WorkShift? You can purchase it through ejunkie or Amazon. It’s available in ebook format for Kindle or as a PDF you can read at your computer (or even print out). It sells for $8.

The fine print: I received an ebook copy of WorkShift and if you purchase the book through ejunkie I will receive a small commission. I did not receive any other compensation for this review, and the opinions are mine alone.

Works in Progress

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Things my kids have learned this summer: How to make Jambalaya. Algebra. Acting. Making tuna salad and muffin pizza.

Things my kids have not learned this summer: Turning lights and tv off when they leave a room. Closing drawers and doors to cabinets and closets. Eating with silverware (still to be mastered by one child)

So they can cook, compute and emote, but they still act like they were raised by wolves.

There is much work yet to be done.

Of Goodbyes, Long and Short, and Birthdays

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Yesterday was my husband’s birthday. Three years ago it stopped being a happy occasion.

On his birthday three years ago, we stood next to each other, all lined up in fancy clothes, alongside his father’s casket. Pop had passed away two days before after a short and unexpected illness. Some of the people at the wake remembered that it was my husband’s birthday and awkwardly wished him a happy birthday along with offering their condolences.

It was weird, and a pretty crummy way to have to spend a birthday.

The other day we gathered with my mother-in-law, as well as my husband’s sister-in-law and 3 nieces, to attend a Mass for Pop. After that we got some pizza. No one made sure there was a cake, or candles. No one even sang or suggested the idea of it. You don’t commemorate the anniversary of a death with a birthday cake and a rousing chorus of “Sto Lat*.”

My mother-in-law did not call her son yesterday to wish him a happy birthday. I don’t know if she remembers that his birthday was Sunday; during the past couple of years it has become apparent that she is suffering from Alzheimer’s. On Friday evening, after we got home, my husband confided that it’s really hard for him to see his mom like this.

Hard as it was to lose Pop, his illness was mercifully short. In early August of that year, we were arguing with him that he should see a doctor because of a few symptoms he was having. By the 24th he was gone. In between those two points were a horrible couple of weeks in which my husband spent his time shuttling between his job and his parents so that his mom could get to see Pop in the hospital. There was no time to think about what might happen, what it would be like with Pop gone. There was no time to think about anything.

Now, all he has is time. He knows that he is losing a little bit of his mom with each passing day. It’s just a question of how many days will pass before a family agreement must be made, because the time will come (sooner rather than later) when she cannot continue to live on her own. In many ways, already, she is no longer “on her own,” depending on my husband and his sister-in-law for things like errands, food shopping, paying the bills, doctor visits and filling her medication organizer.

This is an awful way to lose someone.

Right now, what is lost is the short-term memory stuff: the “where did I put my keys” and the taking medicine as scheduled and the writing out of checks to pay bills. But we know what’s coming. And the hardest loss of all, I think, will be the loss of the relationship: the time when she no longer remembers her son, when she cannot recognize her grandchildren.

One way (out of many) in which my husband and I are opposite is that he is a relationship person and I am a logistics person. It’s something that I admire and am frustrated by, sometimes in the same minute. But while I worry about his mom largely in terms of the logistics, he is grieving, in advance, the loss of the relationship with his mother, even as he must deal with the logistics of her physical needs.

And that is a pretty crummy way to spend a bithday.

*”Sto Lat” is a Polish happy-occasion song. The lyrics, loosely translated, mean “May you live 100 years.” In my husband’s family, it is always sung at birthdays.

 

An Empty Nest, an Apology, a Reprieve, and a Thank You

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This week, the only kid we’ll have at home with us is Little Brother.  The other two kids are off on vacation with their friends who generously invited them along.  Lucky kids!  I won’t miss the all-day, everyday consumption of Dr. Pepper, Ellio’s pizza, and pretzels that seems to happen when my teenagers are around, but I’ll miss their company nonetheless.  So will Little Brother.  (I’m trying to plan a little extra fun into his week).  That’s the Empty Nest part.

The young man with the colorful vocabulary has come forward to apologize.  We’re glad about that.  And he was rather eloquent about it as well, expressing his regrets for his lack of respect to my daughter, to me, and to my family.  That’s the Apology part.

And now we’ve got six more days before there will be any teenagers around here.  That will give everyone a chance to cool down, and–I hope–a fresh start next weekend.  I’ve got a big sense of relief right now.  I’m glad that a confession and an apology took place before Middle Sister departed for the shore.  I’m glad for the opportunity to take a bit of a break so I can start fresh next week.  And I’m glad we stuck to our guns on this issue, even though my daughter doesn’t “get” what the big deal was.  Hopefully, one day she will.  And that’s the Reprieve part.

Finally, the Thanks part, in which I express my gratitude to you for your show of support in the comments, and for the prayers that I am certain strengthened me through the rest of this week.  Thank you ever so much!

I Concede

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Sometimes I get frustrated when my husband doesn’t do things the way I’d do them.

OK, I always get frustrated when my husband doesn’t do things the way I’d do them.

Controlling much?

(I spent half my time on jury duty last week rethinking their systems and figuring out how to eliminate potential jurors more quickly.  Yeah–I’d say I’m controlling.)

It’s a good thing my husband puts up with me.

I’m the nuts and bolts around here; he’s the dreams.  I worry about the practical stuff like what’s for dinner and who has to be where and who’s driving them there and how long has Little Brother been playing on that Game Boy, anyway?  He wishes for exciting vacations and gives in to Little Brother’s “five more minutes” requests and lets the kids have sleepovers.  He says “yes” when I want to say “no.”

And when Little Brother and Adventure Boy have a sleepover that involves making “forts” out of all the cushions in the family room, he lets them.  And when they’re too scared to sleep in the family room when everyone else is upstairs, he sleeps down there too, on the couch.  On Father’s Day.  And then when we go out to a restaurant for Father’s Day, he invites Adventure Boy to come along.

It’s a good thing that we have him in our lives.  He might make me crazy sometimes, but we really do need that balance, that other side, that he brings to things.

Happy Father’s Day to my husband, TheDad!

It Can’t Come Soon Enough

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Closing night for the high school’s spring musical (The Wizard of Oz) is tomorrow. We’ve been eating, breathing, and not sleeping the play for over two months now.

I had my reservations about allowing Little Brother to participate, but I went ahead and let him do it. (I also notified his teacher about the certainty of late bedtimes for days on end, and asked her to let me know if there were any problems with schoolwork or behavior. I guess there haven’t been any.)

Middle Sister has been doing everything at school except for showering and sleeping. That’s all she’s had time for at home. She’d get to school around 8 AM, go to class until 2:30, start track practice at 3, eat dinner, and go to play practice until at least 9–and in the last two weeks, as late as 11.

No one’s been around to do any chores. Except for me, when I’m not behind the wheel of the van, shuttling people back and forth to play practice.

The play has been a great experience for both of my kids. Middle Sister has made new friends and learned new skills (she’s helped with stage crew set-building as well as being a cast member.) And Little Brother, apparently, has been “adopted” as the whole cast’s little brother. At those Tech Week Dinners, he could be found dining with the Tin Man, the Scarecrow, the Wizard and the Flying Monkey in Charge. I’d go over to make sure he’d eaten a good dinner, only to find him playing video games on someone’s cell phone or high-fiving a cast member.

So I’m glad that they have both had this opportunity, and I know they’ll be missing the play on Monday when they get to eat dinner here at home and do chores and not have somewhere to be after dinner. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to serving dinner to the whole family, nagging my kids to get those chores done, and not having to get somebody somewhere after dinner.

After all, “there’s no place like home.”

Solo

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Yesterday, I was the only one in my family at the 12:00 Mass. Nobody was sick–everyone else had gone to other Masses, at other parishes, due to commitments they had.

Usually we’re all at Mass together, though we don’t all sit together. I’m in the folk group. When Big Brother is home from college, he plays bass and/or mandolin with us. Little Brother usually sits with us and sings. Middle Sister is an altar server, and since Father isn’t going to let Little Brother serve until he’s a fourth-grader, Middle Sister remains on the job. It’s rare that anyone else ever shows up to serve. TheDad is the only one of us who’s “in the pew” at Mass. But he spent years and years and years on pew duty with the kids so that I could play in the folk group.

But now Big Brother is back at school, where he’s playing the bass at the Campus Ministry Masses. Middle Sister sings in her school choir, and they were invited to sing at a Mass at one of the sending parishes. And Little Brother is in his school choir as well; on the first Sunday of the month, they sing at one of the parish Masses.

I notice my slowly-emptying nest most when Sundays roll around. Even more so than mealtimes, Sunday Mass has always been a family occasion. I am glad that all of my children are willingly participating–and giving of their time and talent–at Mass each week. But I miss those Sundays when we all would participate together, from various parts of the church.