i'm not your superwoman

One of the many, many things that I find more and more irritating these days is the idea of Mom as Superwoman.  Yeah...I realize this isn't a new thing.  TV's been trying to get us to swallow this pill for years, but it seems like a number of us maternal-types are buying. 

The majority of the women I seem to encounter are clearly all from the same school for over-achievers.  They are everything to everyone at all times and smiley and pleasant while they do it. 

It makes me want to puke. 

don't blink

Last month brought two important birthdays in the Harris household. My firstborn turned eleven, and Hayden is now a one year old. Hard to believe that time passes so quickly. It seems like just yesterday I was calling Stephanie to ask what she thought about the huge, warm puddle that had appeared beneath me on my bed as we chatted away. It passes in what seems the blink of an eye. One minute I'm wishing for everyone in the house to be able to wipe their own poopy asses, and the next we're trying for a third baby and beginning again. And while I'm looking forward to the time when once again everyone can wipe themselves, I am enjoying each moment with my girls. Even though Taylor is moody and Dylan never stops telling random, tv-inspired stories and Hayden is still nursing and bites sometimes, I love every second.

arms akimbo

More unsettling news in the Land of the Harrises and Colorectal Cancer. Mitchell's chemo has been altered due to unsatisfactory progress (or lack thereof). It seems those pesky cancer cells are fighting with renewed vigor in the liver and hanging pretty tough in the lung. Doc Brown has added a biologic to the treatment mix. Unfortunately this infusion has to be administered weekly. Fortunately, the chemotherapy infusion schedule remains the same (every 21 days). Amazingly Mitchell continues to fare pretty well despite the chemotherapy. He has gained weight (mostly, due to the steroid-decadron- he takes to control some of the more adverse side affects of the chemo) and is able to go about his business pretty consistently. It is still difficult for me to believe we are in the middle of all this. Even more difficult to believe we are going on Year 2. I often wonder how long Mitchell can keep this up.

like it's 1999

waiting for my second wind

Christmas 2009 is almost over. We sit, exhausted in the midst of discarded wrapping paper and items still needing to be packed for The Harrises' Christmas Vacation: Part Deux. And even though I can't imagine how we will be ready to depart in the morning, this feeling right now beats the hell out of what I was feeling last year about this time.

booger nose

Hayden has been sick for a couple of weeks now. Coughing and hacking...Clogged noses...Steam showers in the wee hours of the night. Lots and lots of green clumps of mucus. Vomiting mucus...Running mucus... It's truly disgusting. And scary because, I don't know if you realize this, but babies don't naturally breathe through their mouths. Yeah...Mouth breathers are not actually BORN mouth breathers...That happens later. Who knew, right?

The traditional snot sucking method wasn't really working (you've seen that institutional green bulb they send you home from the hospital with). And after three or so nights of trying to sleep sitting up with the Hay, I was frazzled. And exhausted. Then...A revelation. My girl, Rachel, mentioned a blog she did about boogers and how she had come across this NoseFrida contraption. Really? You want me to suck snot from my child's head. GAG. Any other time, I would have made a snide comment and moved on, but you see, I was desperate.

The thing is...This sucker WORKS! Amazingly well! It is (as previously mentioned) an effing revelation in baby booger management. Granted I gag every time I have to clean the thing post-use, but it clears out her nose, and I haven't scraped the inside of her delicate little petunia of a nose raw in the process.

37

Last month, I turned 37.

Thirty-effing-SEVEN! Seriously? I'm not 37.

I'm 28. Don't I look it? Oh wait. Just caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I am definitely not looking 28.

Shit...

moment of gratitude

• Taylor
• Dylan
• Hayden
• Every minute
• Naps
• Laughter

developments

Mitchell's new chemo protocol has brought some new developments. Some good; some bad. Pluses

• No oral chemo meds
• Currently down to 2 chemo drugs rather than 3
• More non-sick time due to lack of oral meds
• Neuropathy seems to be slowly going away

Minuses

• More intense sick time after treatment days
• New and improved side effects from new infusion drug
• Hair loss has begun

inertia

• Lumpy
• Unwilling
• Exhausting
• Weighted
• Blah
• Disinterested
• Thick-headed
• Sloth-like
• Stuck

and the fun keeps coming

Mitchell's scan was read today, and the results were not good. There are 2 new lesions in his liver and the couple or three in his lung are larger (of course, we're talking mm and cm, but still). Soooo..... They're switching his chemotherapy meds but using the same protocol. The doctor did say today that the treatment goals are for Mitchell to live with cancer as a chronic disease. He said that the cancer was not curable and could not give us anything concrete about what treatment will look like long term. I walked away from the meeting with a few impressions. The most shocking to me being that Mitchell's experience with chemotherapy is long term and on-going. I don't know where I was when this was discussed previously, but I did not realize that this had become a permanent part of our reality. We are now looking at 3 to 4 month chunks of time where he will get treatment and then have a scan to see what's going on and then proceeding from there. He talked about there being lots of different types of treatments and procedures that will most likely be part of our future. I feel shell-shocked.

weather letter

Hey, Southern AZ!

Enough is enough. I'm sick of the heat already.

It is October 19th; get with the fricken program and cool down!

Sincerely,

Disgruntled and Sweaty

i love noodles

school of the home

Around here, there's been lots of talk about moms (and even some dads) pulling their kids out of the local public in order to live above the influence and school their chicklets at home. I myself shudder to think of a situation that would require me to be add full-time teacher of my kids to the list of monikers they already refer to me. Primary caretaker, medical technician, hygiene authority, therapist, nurturer, personal chef, chauffeur, life giver, social director, party planner, housekeeper, life guard, fitness coach, tutor, advocate, security officer, personal shopper, laundress, and biggest fan are already roles in which I spend quite a bit of time. I can't imagine having to also be responsible for a daily routine which would include curriculum, lectures, guided practice, independent practice, field trips, educationally-based teachable moments, authentic assessment and timely feedback. I'm not saying it can't be done, nor am I saying it shouldn't be. I just think that the world is large and full of authentic learning opportunities and attending school is, in my opinion, a significant one.

relenting

I finally relented and allowed Taylor & Dylan to share a bedroom. They are now jammed into what was Taylor's. No room for playing. No toys allowed. Just beds and dressers and night stands, thank you very much. But I suppose if it keeps them out of the guest room bed, then it's okay...

hayden in action

This was taken by Taylor (can't you tell?) on August 8th 2009.

not your mother's rant

Outsiders (and by outsider I mean any individual who does not live with the day to day reality of this disease) who tell me everything is going to be fine make me feel crazy.

This has been established. It's kind of like when you're bitching about your mom or some other family member who has gotten on your last nerve and whomever you are bitching to says, "Yeah, you're right. Your (fill in the blank with mom, brother, dad, spouse) really IS an asshole!" And something inside you screeches to a halt a says, "Hold on. It's okay for ME to say that, but it is NOT okay for YOU to say that. Back off, JERK FACE!" And now you're battling your friend who was just trying to commiserate with you. Yeah. That's exactly what it's like.

I say everything is fine to make myself feel better. Sometimes "Every thing's fine" is what allows me to get through whatever it is I'm trying to get through... But you telling me that every thing's fine somehow tells me you're minimizing what's happening in our big box of a two-story these last 9 months. And maybe you're not. Maybe you realize that the situation is precarious, but you can't say that so you use phrases that gloss over the difficulty like fluffy frosting on cake that has cracked and broken. Maybe you know that every time Mitchell has treatment, the aftermath gets worse. Worse to the point where I'm harassing him hourly to call the cancer center because he's been lying in bed for days and can't eat or really drink and he looks small and shrunken. And he's hating me because I keep asking (and I even hate myself) but I can't stop nagging him.

Then I have to step back and realize, people are going to deal with this thing the way they have to deal with it. And I'm going to either let that go or hold on to it. And remember that no one knows until it happens in their house what it means or how it hurts or how angry you can get at someone who really isn't at fault.

letter of complaint

Dear Excessive Emailer,

When I gave you my email address, I did not realize I was going to be bombarded with group emails containing your latest cake pics. I have seen a home made cake before and, while I'm sure you're extremely proud of your work, have no interest in viewing a slide show filled with your mediocre creations. If I wanted a cake that looked home made, I'd make my own.

Sincerely, me

Taylor gains confidence

Dylan continues to ramble

Taylor begging again

Now begging and playing coy

Mrs. Connelly & Dylan

Ms. Cronk & Taylor

Dylan in the midst of asking her gazillionith question

Taylor begging me to stop taking pictures.