Talented

Our school Talent Show is coming up.  While my children are very entertaining, they might need some help in finding the perfect "talent"  for the show.  Tonight when I asked if either of them were going to be in this year's Talent Show, Skye quickly showed me his "talent."  This consisted of two fingers at his mouth, an awkward hold from the other hand, and a sound which makes mothers cringe (and little boys giggle).

Other ideas from the boys when I nixed the finger trick were:

• Drink a gallon of milk in a minute.
  
• Burp the ABC's.
  
• Make arm farts.
  

I don't think they are going to make it into the Talent Show, do you?

Humbled

It's been a couple of days and I think I'm able to now write about this.  It still gives me a lump in my throat, and all the while I'm embarrassed to admit how much it truly affected me.  I was devastated, completely in a funk and unable to show my face...all because of a bad haircut.

I got it cut on Friday, just a trim but added some bangs.  That was the plan, but my hair stylist had other ideas.  I've used this woman before and have been very happy.  I'm not certain if it was because of a language barrier in what I was telling her or if she had been possessed by Jezebel, but she decided to give me some serious layers in the back.  Serious layers.  No joking as these things were not to be ignored, unbelievable and unexplainable.  Let's just say I felt like Jon Bon Jovi in the '80s.  It was bad.

I knew it was bad when I left the salon and called my friend Nancy who I knew would tell me the truth.   Her words gave me no comfort, "It's kinda cute, but let's call my next-door neighbor who is also a stylist to see if she can fix you."  Another snip-snip in Nancy's kitchen, with words like "bad" and "grow" and facial expressions which would scare even the bravest souls left me with no hope.  I wet it, dried it, styled it.  Terrible.  Wet it, dried it, styled it.  Awful.  There was no hope.

So I put on a baseball cap, 'cause I had places to go.

I wore that sucker all night, had nightmares that night of my husband trying to steal my cap from me, and put it right back on the next morning.  No one saw my hair.  I couldn't even look.  I cried and cried.  It made me more upset than I ever thought I would be.  I did not think I was a vain person and I thought hair is just an accoutrement to the beauty of a person.  Bad haircuts happened to many of my friends and I just poo-pooed them for being silly.  Hair grows, get over it!

Now I truly know how I feel.  My hair is an extension of me.  When it looks bad, I feel bad.  Bad hair days are real and it's can really ruin my day.  I hate I feel this way because I want to believe I am loved for the person I am on the inside, not what my hair looks like or what size jeans I wear.  The fact is we all judge people by what they look like before we even try to know the person.  If a person looks disheveled, I am most likely not to strike up a conversation.  It kills me to say it, because I want my children to learn more about inner beauty.  Especially for my boys, I certainly don't want them to judge women for the size of their breasts or their bleach-blonde hair.  How can I teach them this when I don't even believe it myself?

The next morning I ended up going to Nancy's salon and having one of her friends give me a short and sassy haircut.  Everyone loves it and it's (ahem) growing on me.  I think I would have loved it much more if it hadn't of been my only option, but am grateful I was able to get something great out of such a bad haircut.

Now if only it didn't matter so much.

Here We Go

I knew we were on the cusp of puberty with my nine year-old.  Every time he says, "Mom, can I ask you something?" I start to twitch.  I don't think he has noticed my serious apprehension to what is next to come out of his mouth and thankfully each question has been something very benign.  Examples, "What would happen if we put just a little bit of foil in the microwave?" or "Did you know that a bull is actually really careful in a china shop?"  WHEW!  Somehow I have avoided "the talk" or any other mention of sex from my pre-pubescent son.

Until now.

What I didn't realize was my first uncomfortable conversation was going to be with my five year old.  Steve has been sick all weekend in bed and by Sunday night, I'm spent.  The children were all fed and I was killing time until 8:00 when I could put the babies down so we were watching a little Sesame Street.  Elmo was trying to figure out what dance he should do for their "Street Party."

I know what you're thinking...how in the world does Sesame Street lead to uncomfortable conversations?  Well, there were lots of different dancers with many of the ladies who were scantily cladded.  After about the third showing of the dancers LA exclaims, "Not sexy ladies again!"  I (stupidly) respond, "You don't like sexy ladies?"  His response, "Whenever I see them they make my penis go up."

Silence.

Silence.

I guess I should be relieved all his parts work and apparently he is a heterosexual (more about that later), but I'm going to have to process this for a while.

Now I'm even more scared about what will come out of the nine year-old's mouth!

The Weekend

In front of the fire, one of my favorite places to be!

My Honey Girls weekend was fantastic!  My friends and I danced, drank, ate, drank, went to the spa, drank, and went snow tubing.  Snow tubing was probably the highlight of the weekend, with Clara's awesome dinner on Friday night and a flash of Diana's reconstructed breasts.  WEEEE!  It was wonderful to get to see everyone and get to know them just a little bit better.

A couple of personal demons were aired throughout the weekend which was probably to be expected.  Girls want to talk, just to talk, and get some things off their chests and to get some advice from people they trust.  I was honored to be a part of many of these conversations and hope my input helped.

I came home exhausted, having accomplished nothing I had intended.  Sleeping in and catching up on my magazines just didn't happen, but my sense of self was back.  So often many moms feel like they are moms and wives first and forget about themselves.  It was the reason I had such a difficult time leaving to begin with.  With my cancer scare happening right before my weekend away, I was even more aware of how badly I needed to be "Sarah".  It was perfect.  I felt whole.

Thank you to all the girls.  I hope you had as fabulous a time as I did.

Another Ordinary Day

Today I thought I had cancer.  For three hours today I thought I had cancer.  I was on Facebook and blogging, completely avoiding the piles of laundry and heaps of dishes in the sink, when I got a phone call.  It was the lovely technician I had met on Friday during my first ever mammogram.  I say she was lovely because she was just that, lovely.  As she was pushing and shoving parts of my anatomy which are too little to be pushed and shoved, we talked and talked.  She really made me comfortable, even as I uncomfortably stood naked from the waist up talking to her.  Stephanie was lovely.

So when Stephanie called I didn't really panic.  Maybe I forgot something, maybe she wanted to meet me for coffee, maybe...what?  "Blah, blah, abnormality, blah, blah, want you to come in today, blah, blah..."  Uhhh.  Panic!  I told her I would call her as soon as I could arrange something for my children.

I call Steve who is the voice of reason.  Calm, completely controlled, and me losing my mind.  I call my friend Nancy who completely steps up to the plate to help me with the babies and LA.  What a relief!  I call Stephanie right back and will be there in two hours.  Lovely on one end of the phone, panic on the other.

For the next hour I am a bundle of nerves.  Thankfully I had the aforementioned chores to do, so I took my nervous energy and went to work.  Laundry, done.  Dishes, done.  Still panicking.  The trip back to the hospital was full of panic as well, almost surreal.  There was billowing smoke from a fire in the next town and fire trucks screaming down the road.  About three miles further, there was a car completely flipped over and turned around on the side of the road with people stopping to help but no emergency vehicles yet.  Although I took notice of these things I felt more like I was watching it all on a movie, completely disconnected.

The thoughts going through my mind went from denial (I'm 37 years old, I nursed all of my children, I don't have a family history of breast cancer) to logistics (I need to be home by 2:45 to pick up my other children from the bus stop or I can call my neighbor) to bargaining (I can have a surgery but no chemo, I can have chemo but I don't want to die).  My kids faces, the babies (oh! the babies!), my husband, our family, I am so blessed!

I sat in the waiting room and looked around.  Another woman had the same "special" paperwork I had. I thought, "She looks healthy, hopefully I look as healthy as her."  Stephanie came out and called me to the room.  I know she does this all the time, but she made me feel like a special case with her reassuring words and calmness.  She remembered lots of things about me from Friday and we chatted.  She told me I would have results before I left today, which relived me tremendously.  I asked her about "Call Backs", the name they used for my case.  She said about 10% of the patients get called back but only about 10% of those are cancer.  She pushed and shoved even harder this time to take the pictures and when she was done she took them down to the radiologist to read them.

I think she was gone for about five minutes, maybe ten, but those were some L-O-N-G minutes.  I sat in my hospital gown waiting for news which would change my life.  I thought of my father and the waiting game he played.  I remembered one particularly grueling wait for brain scan results and the worry he had for possibly being "incompetent".  Those results took a couple of hours, other tests took a couple of days, so torturing to his soul and the spirit!  I was fortunate with the couple of minutes I had to wait, completely terrified of what I faced.  As I heard her footsteps down the corridor, I don't think I breathed.  She walked in with a big grin and I knew everything would be okay.

As I walked out of the hospital, feeling very fortunate, I wondered about those who don't get such get news.  Cancer is such a ruthless and degrading disease, those recently diagnosed will have a terrible fight.  Many will win, many will not.

So on this very ordinary day I was given another one of those "reality checks" to remember how fortunate I am.  I don't have cancer and I am so blessed.  What a wonderful ordinary day!  Now, to figure out if the fire and the car crash were real or just my imagination, and what it all means...

Lucky Girl

This was the blog I was writing when I was so rudely interrupted with a cancer scare (see previous blog).  I'm sharing it now because it's even more poignant.

I'm going away this weekend, the first time I have left the twins alone since they were born and the first time I have been away from my entire family in more than six years.  I'm nervous and excited all at the same time.  Nervous to leave the family, though I know they will be in good hands with Steve who is always ready for a challenge, and excited to hang with some dear friends of mine.

"The Honey Girls", as I call them, were named after a cocktail one of the girls discovered.  It was smooth, cool refreshing, and a bit potent.  I loved the drink and love these girls.  With the exception of two, we all have a connection somehow with Mount Vernon High School, either as fellow classmates or as spouses of MV alumni.  We have been getting together for more than five years every month.  When I moved out to the boonies, I thought my evenings with The Honey Girls would be limited, if not over, but they have been gracious enough to travel further to make it work.  In the past five years, we have created more children I can count, supported each other through family drama and tragedy, and have had so many laughs.  It's a great group of people!  We are also having another classmate of our join our trip, one who I haven't seen in a while and am looking forward to hanging out with.

We are going to Deep Creek, MD where there is a ski resort and a spa nearby.  We have rented a house with a gorgeous view of the lake and the mountains and a hot tub!  I plan to spa and snow tube, drink lots of wine (though not too much as to be hungover the next morning), laugh, relax, and have fun.  I have looked forward to this trip ever since they went last year and I couldn't go because I was on bed rest with the babies.

I'm also so, so nervous.  I hate being away from my kids

...this is when I got the call.  The tone will sound different as I feel a little different now.

So I'm leaving.  It's hard on me, it's hard on the kids, and it's especially hard on Steve as he'll be doing the most work.  But I know it's really important for me to have "me time".  A mom with three small children saw me at Costco today and asked me how I had any time to myself.  When I told her my plan for the weekend, her jaw dropped.  As she nursed her little one, I could see her mind wondering when this would happen to her.  This was especially interesting since it was the first question she asked me.  I'm fortunate to have this opportunity, enough complaining.

I will have fun!  I will enjoy being "Sarah" and not "Mom", "Honey" or "eeeh" (as I'm affectionately known by the babies right now.  I will come back refreshed with a new set of patience.  It will be good!