COVID 19 - Shelter in place, at a hotel

Now it's Sunday, March 22nd and we are checked into a local hotel. It seems as if we might be the only people at the hotel, which gives me relief that first, we are not annoying any other patrons and second, that we are not worried about catching or spreading the virus, so long as we keep our hands clean of course.

The first night was probably the hardest. Those of you with kids, especially those under 10, know how hard it is to get them to sleep in a hotel room. There's just too much excitement. It was probably 11:00 before all the kids were asleep. I crashed with them, but new sleeping arrangements provided many fitful sleepers. Jonathan and I were probably up together from two to four AM stressing about everything. Should we go home and clean up? Did we do the right thing, not getting second opinions? How are we going to pay for this? How long should we stay at the hotel? It was a long anxious, sleepless night.

The kids were up bright and early that first Monday morning. Did I mention our first full day in the hotel was also a busy work day for me? My employer, a bank, is an essential service. My work didn't stop. Instead it accelerated. We started preparing for upcoming changes while not yet feeling the economic impacts of the soon to be named "Great Lockdown". I was right in the middle of launching an 18 month long project that, as of now, is not expected to see the light of day for a long, long time.

They wanted breakfast, they wanted the pool, they wanted to explore, they wanted all the things. Honestly a month later, I'm trying to remember all the details but I think my brain is protecting me from remembering all the anxiety inducing aspects. I do remember the grace my friends and family showed and shared with me.

I worked. The kids swam. Joe ignored nap time. Jonathan managed the construction site at home. The dog came and went from the hotel. And I worked some more. I had conference calls from the pool, from the room, and pacing the hallways just trying not to get locked out of the hotel room (which did happen).

The staff was amazing, and became our hotel family. They tried to maintain all their normal services while maintaining social distancing restrictions. The morning breakfast was limited to danishes, fruit and coffee/juice. The eating area was closed off, but since we were almost the ONLY guests, they let us pull the chairs down and sit at a table like a normal family.

One of the perks they offered was a daily happy hour with wine and snacks. They graciously called us in our room to let us know when the cookies were warm from the oven, dubbing one of the employees forever in our hearts, "the cookie lady".

Still at the end of March, getting outside was only an option for one of those rare spring Ohio days. We rejoiced in the sunshine and walked around the commercial park on a rock hunt.

We were at the hotel from Sunday, March 22nd through Thursday March 26th. I wish could say that weekend was one of celebration, but instead we had two weeks of laundry, a sink full of dishes and muddy floors from many construction boots in and out of basement.

It also took a while for me to gain some control over my anxiety, given that huge expenses are usually a personal trigger.

I am so thankful that Jonathan handled all the construction logistics, negotiations and worked with ALL the subcontractors that were involved. He made sure all of the details were taken care of, the job was done well and the basement was SANITIZED. I know he probably doesn't know how much I appreciated it, considering I was losing my mind and yelling at him that he was running away from the hotel.That was me deflecting because I WANTED TO RUN AWAY. Being trapped in a hotel is NOT FUN.

I really do think the kids will remember it more as spring break and swimming, even if my memory is stunted due to the amount of my own anxiety and pressure. So now, we're back home and have been for a month. What does that look like? Well I'll need an entire new post to share my thoughts, reactions and opinions on how we are 'handling' this....

COVID-19 - the sewage story

So yeah,

This is one for the ages.We are currently under orders from the government to shelter-in-place as a public health crisis of a world pandemic is upon us.I'm sure once this is over, or once we have a vaccine, there will be all kinds of views of how this impacted the world and the economy.

But for posterity's sake, this is about what we're experiencing right here, right now. School was canceled the week of March 16 for three weeks. Earlier this week, the closure was extended to May 1. There is a lot of doubt that the kids will go back this year. Our dear Nonnie also had to close March 23 through May 1 as well. 

So what does that mean for us. It means I am working from home for a bank (an essential service during this time of crisis). Jonathan is not working. And we have lesson plans for the Caroline and Maggie so they don't fall behind. 

As you gathered from my previous post I was feeling pretty sorry for myself because my big 40th birthday party was cancelled. No going out, no spa day, no time with my parents. I was sad, but that quickly turned into anxiety about all the small businesses that I know will not survive this. I quickly got over any self-pity and decided to take it all on - the work from home, co-parenting, teacher, toddler-wrangler and number-one mom.

It was Sunday, March 22 and I was motivated. (Total tangent this was the day that Jonathan and I met in Panama City 19 years ago!!) After a big breakfast for the whole family, I headed downstairs to start the mounds of laundry. 

I opened the door and was smacked in the face with stink. I pushed it away and went to discover what had died in our basement. I round the corner of the stairs to make out in the dark that the floor was wet and.... chunky. I pulled the string light on to see POOP. Solid turds resting on my basement floor as if the dog had been defecating in the basement. The only reason I knew this was not the case was the toilet-paper remains in the water that soaked the cement. 

I ran up the stairs, yelling "WE HAVE A PROBLEM! THERE IS POOP IN THE BASEMENT!" Obviously, I wasn't thinking. This proclamation only spiked their curiosity and drove all within earshot (everyone) down the stairs to see for themselves. 

After freaking out, calling anyone we could for help, confirming that they would come THAT DAY, the poop jokes, questions and accusations started...

Those aren't my poops, they must be stranger poop

They can't be the kids poop, it's too big

HOW did they come up from the drain fully formed? 

HOW MUCH IS THIS GOING TO COST 

Should we try and clean it up before someone comes to fix the problem?

The first person on the scene was Keenan. We greeted him at the door with all the gratitude and thanks. Keenan even jumped in on the jokes - "wow, those are some fresh turds." That comment struck me because I wondered what he usually sees when responding to a sewage backup? Stale turds? A question for another day...

Keenan outlined the options for us and the one that was recommended was cleaning the entire line with a blade (really just a high powered water jet). Yes, yes and yes - just fix the problem.

About an hour later reinforcements arrived to do the dirty work. As is typical fashion, Jonathan had a connection with the head of the crew. He had worked with his wife. Through the small talk, we learned that he was also a friend of Buck's. I think it was more divine intervention than happy accident that this Marine was the head of the crew.

As the crew got to work clearing the pipes, I busied the girls with tablets, shut Khali in the kennel, put Joe to bed for a nap and generally stayed out of their way. A flurry of activity ensued, including shouting to turn things on, people up and down the basement stairs and even some shouting. I tried to imagine this is all normal unless they tell me otherwise. The flurry calmed down and I hoped they were solving the problem.

They did not solve the problem, instead they FOUND the problem. The head of the crew came to find me. He didn't mince words, "you're screwed". I quickly grabbed Jonathan before I let him say any more. I needed us both to hear the extent of our screwage at the same time. My anxiety was already screaming in my face and I was fighting to ignore it.

He took us out to the back yard, right outside the house and pointed to a spray painted spot on the ground, only 2 feet from the foundation.

"The pipe is crushed. This is where we think it's crushed"

More words

"It could be crushed in other places in the yard."

More words.

"We have to dig. Homeowners insurance usually doesn't cover anything outside of the house. Just to dig costs $6,000 and then the remaining fees depend on what other problems we find"

More words.

Jonathan negotiating.

Anxiety screaming,

"The earliest we can have an excavation team here is Thursday."

Wait WHAT? Even that last statement made my anxiety shut up for a second. We are under shelter in place orders and have NO INDOOR PLUMBING with three little kids?

Considering how my mind was racing, I was surprised that I was able to calmly ask, "How are we supposed to go to the bathroom in the meantime?"

His response was akin to a shoulder shrug. I think he said something along the lines of let it sit in the toilet and don't flush....

At that point I told Jonathan to take over and excused myself before I melted into a pile of tears and anxiety. I went up to my bedroom and crawled into bed paralyzed with what to do next.

All the while the girls were annoying everyone on the internet with video calls through an app that I installed for distraction. Bubby and Grandpa were two of lucky recipients of the incessant call attempts. I should also add that the family was very aware of my current status because of the frantic WTF texts I was sending.

From the girls room I hear Grandpa, in his dad voice, instruct Maggie to bring the tablet to her mom. She brings it to me and I facetime with Dad as he tells me he's booked us a hotel for the night with adjoining rooms and a pool for the kids. No arguing, just go.

I cried with relief, exhaustion and gratitude to have someone just make the next decision. Thank you Mom and Dad.

The story will continue in the next post COVID-19 - Shelter in Place, Hotel Style

Turning 40 during a worldwide pandemic

This is the post I wrote when it all started, before the drama of the following three weeks ensued.

Watch for the next post shortly.


Written March 19 - 2020
Here I am, at home, where I shall be for the next three weeks AT LEAST. The Corona virus, COVID-19 has been named a pandemic. As I type this, here is the heart of the country, Ohio has closed all school, all major business with the exception of groceries, banks and hospitals. The restaurant industry is forced to only allow carryout. The financial markets are threatening to drop as fast as they did in the great depression. Interest rates are at 0%, but who can borrow money when they don't have a job to pay back the loan?

I am lucky that I work for a bank. Right now our focus is on crisis communication and digging deep to see what programs we can pull together to help the communities. Other than that, all initiatives have been halted. So I'm here, at home, with my whole family, trying to keep a sense of normalcy that is the last illusion of control over our lives. 

It feels like every day the pendulum of how I'm feeling emotionally swings dramatically and quickly from one side to the other. 

One moment I'm feeling safe, secure and purposeful. We'll ride this out for a couple weeks, weather the storm, protect those that are susceptible and be thankful we're in a position to do so. 

The next moment I'm reading scary reports of the death tolls in Italy, watching the stock market drop by double digit percentage points and thinking life will never be normal again. 

Just as quickly JoJo asks for a hug and I'm back to grateful that this virus is sparing most of the young children. 

Oh yeah, and yesterday was my 40th birthday. I mad a big fuss about my birthday this year, wanting to do something fun and different that included a night on the town. Well that didn't happen. And I'm really ok with that. The most frustrating part is all the people that said we'll get together when this is over. No we wont. I know that as quickly as this all began, we're going to want to erase it from our memory. Life will get busy again. People will be busy with their preoccupations and life will go on. I'm sure it was meant to be, but I'm going to feel sorry for myself all the same and admit that I"m disappointed.




  Added today,  4/7/20 - wow, I sound like a whiny baby. Little did I know, my plumbing had a lovely birthday present in store for me....

2020 what, how did that happen?

Remember me?


I actually have been really missing writing, typing, journaling, blogging, storytelling, whatever this was/is. Well on a lark, I tried to log in and guess what? My company is not blocking this URL or platform anymore. And because all my time not with my family is spent at work or asleep, I usually find time to write in between meetings, eating lunch at my desk or when I'm working late and need to switch gears.


So here I am. Back after TWO YEARS. Who am I kidding, 2018 was really about blogging, I was trying to catch up from not blogging since early 2017....


Ok, so the long short - We just celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary. Let me pause there, because while 11 years isn't that long, our marriage is only a tween, those years have thrown some serious challenges at us. We celebrate making it through it all and doing it together!


The lastbit, my JoJo is TWO and man he is a ham. If he isn't getting attention, watch out, he'll destroy everything in sight.


The ittytbit, Maggie Moo Margaret Jane Rinehart is 6 and all the things. She is an extrovert and social, happy and as spirited as you can imagine. She loves makeup, baby dolls, one on one time with me and is the best hugger. She is also as argumentative and stubborn as you can imagine. She can turn from rainbows and sunshine to thunder and tantrums in as fast as I can say no.


The babybit, Caroline Cat is 8, but she spends her time reading, listening to music and watching videos. This tiny girls wants to be a grown up more than I want to win the lottery. Much to her dismay, her sister is the same height as her, despite the two year age difference. Also, they've both lost the same number of teeth. The OLDEST child is very frustrated to not have a bigger lead on her sister....


And of course the furbabys. We sadly had to say good by to both our grown up pets, Sammy SO SO and Franklin the Buddy Cat. It's hard to even type those words because they were the pets (children) of our adulthood.


Our new adorable puppy dog was doomed from the start because Sammy was so precious. She is, however, 1rst in the kids heart. As it should be, she is more their dog, than mine and jonathans.


Jonathan is totally against another cat, and I started to pine for one...but I might just be missing the OG fluffmonster.


Ok, not much time to type as I have to run to a meeting. But hopefully they'll be more later.

My last pregnancy - 2017 Retrospective

Posting from September of 2017

I’m officially 12 days away from my due date and I’m realizing how many fun stories I have and how few I’ve documented. Currently everyone at work is asking how I’m feeling, and today I feel fine. It seems as if I’m moving backwards. I was having more contractions and signs of impending labor last week than this week. Because of my age and gestational diabetic status, the Dr will induce me similar to the last two pregnancies. Eviction notice posted to the last bit. You must be out of my womb no later than 10/10!

At work –

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I’m a new job where I don’t know everyone or that I’m at several locations or that this is my third pregnancy or that I’m carrying a boy differently than the girls, but I can’t go anywhere without strangers engaging me about my pregnancy. It’s all positive, but I keep joking that I need to make a game out of it. An over/under of how long it takes before someone says something.

The girls

I am pretty open with the girls about what happens with the baby and how he will come out. It’s not news to them, however Caroline had a classic reaction one night. She was confirming how baby JoJo would make his entrance to the world and said “EWWWW”. I looked at her and said, well that’s how you were born.” She looked me dead in the eye and said “Well, I did NOT like it”. I laughed so hard. Jonathan said I should have told her it was because she did it wrong… She was posterior, making her labor extremely difficult.

With Caroline in Kindergarten now, Maggie and I get a lot of time in the car together. It seems almost every other day she has a question about baby JoJo. I can tell she’s thinking about it because it’s those rare mornings or afternoons when she’s quietly looking out the window. She’s then ask me something like “Momma, will you be in the hospital when the baby comes? Will Dada pick me up from Nonnies?”

Or this question that took me a minute to decode, “Momma when I came out did it look like I had poop on my belly?” I think she saw a picture of another newborn and she was talking about the umbilical cord that was still attached…

 

For me

You are quite the mover and shaker. I would say you probably move the most of all three. It sure seems like you like my stomach as a pillow because I’ve had the worst indigestion with you. Sometimes I have to push you down to get some relief. I keep trying to remind myself what it’s like to have a newborn. Four years seems like a long time ago.

I know it’s going to be hard when you’re born that your Grandpa won’t be there to meet you. Your dad is going to have a hard time with that, but hopefully we can regale you with all the stories – because there are more than you can imagine.

 

2017 retrospective- Maggie’s 4

Dear Maggie Moo Margaret Jane,

You are four – what a mix of big girl, big sister and big helper while still holding strong to the night time toddler rituals, most notably the pacifier. I finally pulled the plug on that ritual just a month after your birthday. As is true to your nature, you balked but then accepted the inevitable. You also never give up. Still crying for your pacifier at bedtime, in the car and whenever you sense my weakness.

You talk all the time. So much so that I honestly don’t always listen. I just add the obligatory reply when you ask, ‘Right momma?”. I’m not even sure why you ask me anything because if I tell you an answer, you are certain to disagree and tell me what you believe to be the right answer.

You are nearly as big as your sister, which leads me to sometimes forget you are only four.

You love taking baths and playing with playdough or anything sensory. You are smart, in more ways than one. You will pretend to not know how to do something so you can get the attention of an adult.

You have your dad’s extroverted nature and charm. There are no strangers to you. Walking through the grocery store, you say hello to every single person, telling me loudly when they don’t respond in kind. You look forward to engaging with people in a way this introvert will never understand, but always admires. We both LOVE listening to you introduce yourself as “Maggie Moo Margaret Jane Rinehart” with confidence that suggests there is nothing odd about having five names. 

You have yet to learn your power, when you look up at me with round, wide eyes, full of innocence and hope and ask for something in the sweetest, most polite voice neither your dad nor I can say no. I think you can hear our hearts explode with love.

Currently your biggest challenge is pronouncing the word yellow – it comes out ‘little’. When you slow it down, YELL – OW, you can say it. Before you know it

You are hilarious, interesting and so much fun. You are also always thinking about others. You will bring me the last bite of your candy or letting your sister play with a toy first. 

As I post this, almost 6 months past your birthday, your speech is already clearer and I’m constantly surprised by your vocabulary and imagination. The other day, you saw a young tree with a protective fence around it through the car window and you said “aww, that little tree is in jail. Isn’t that sad momma?” Another day on a walk you were inventing a game where we weren’t supposed to walk on the cracks because you said they are “dangerous”. I mean, what four year old uses the word dangerous?

You are your father, with all his charm and intellect also comes what we’ve coined, transitionally challenged. Transitioning you from bed to the bathroom to getting dressed and out the door in the morning might be most exasperating part of my day. But you’re teaching me to be more patient so we can all start our day in a good mood even if we are a half an hour late all the time.

You will do great things my love. You make the world a happier place and there is no greater gift!

 

Sammy So So

I was going to do the 2017 retrospective in chronological order, but I changed my mind when our neighbor’s son brought me a tennis ball he found in the yard. I never thought a tennis ball would make me so sad, but there won’t be anyone to chase after it this summer…

Sammy was my Christmas puppy. It was 2006 and with our new house and giant fenced in back yard, I told Jonathan I wanted a puppy. Not just any puppy, a Great Dane! I wanted a big, cuddly, lazy dog.

Well Jonathan was on a mission, except he didn’t like the idea of paying for a designer dog. So he took to the county pounds looking for the perfect addition. It was late November when he stumbled upon a “Great Dane mix” on the Stark County Dog Warden’s web page. He called immediately only to find out he was third in line for this adorable puppy. Cue the Rinehart charm. The Dog Warden told him he could have her if he could pick her up the next day. After more hustling and charm, a friend agreed to pick her up and bring her back to Columbus. Now it was a question of where to hide this puppy for a month so it could be the ultimate Christmas surprise.

Since I have only heard this story after the fact, I have no idea what Jonathan thought when he saw her, but she was not a Great Dane. She was a 40 pound pit bull.

Somewhere along the line he thought it would be ok to keep this puppy at his mom’s house. Oh and did I mention she was trying to sell the house at the time? Yes, let’s keep a puppy at a house that is on the market and ask his mom to care for her, for a MONTH! It’s the part of her story that I never hear the end of…

Fast forward to Christmas Eve 2006 and everyone was in on the surprise. As we traditionally did back then, we headed to his mom’s house for Christmas Eve. The still unnamed puppy was cleaned and donned with a bow and tag.

I walked into his mom’s house to escape the cold only to be aggressively greeted by what I thought was some inconsiderate guest’s dog. My first thought was “who brought their DOG to your mom’s house? How rude”. I think I said a more polite version, “whose dog is this?” I looked around and saw his family looking at me with expectant smiles all over their faces. Evidently the hyperactive puppy that was more like an adolescent, had ripped off the tag and bow. “It’s yours” someone replied.

Yeah, here was a 40 pound dog that was mine. Not exactly the cute, cuddly puppy I had in mind. That is how I came to meet my Sammy Girl. And expectations be damned, she was the best dog I could have ever asked for.

11 years later, only a couple weeks before Christmas 2017, she got sick and left us. And I miss her like hell right now.

We always used to say she was the most expensive pound puppy there ever was. She tore her ACL, had major digestion issues requiring specialized food (and ruined many rugs until), had a tumor removed from her spine, had a spell with seizures and had a thyroid problem. Her vet chart was so big, it made a thump on the table when they got it out. But in her most recent visit to the vet, they said she had many years still in her.

Whatever caused her rapid deterioration, it was a surprise to us all. It happened fast, less than 24 hours that we had to say goodbye. Who knows how long she was actually sick. Luckily the girls got to say goodbye to their dear friend. She was 11 years old, older than our kids, our marriage and even some friendships. There is a gaping hole in our house and a deafening quiet. She wasn’t a barker, but her nails on the hardwood, the jingle of her collar, the thump of her happy tail (the rhythm of her happiness) and even her snoring was the white noise of our family. Jonathan went out for a walk just the other day and almost whistled for her out of habit. Maggie asked one morning, where’s Sammy? And I hesitated, forgetting for a heartbreaking minute that she’s gone.

She was our kid before we had kids. We took her on the boat, took her cabrewing and often took her camping. She snuggled with us on the couch, but only if we gave the permissive double pat on the bed/couch and said “up up”. We lazily exercised her by shining the laser pointer around the back yard from an upstairs window. She was an adept escape artist, climbing the chain-link fence, opening the basement door with her nose, slinking out of her collar when we had to revert to a tie in the yard, and even just wandering away when we weren’t paying attention. When she did escape, no matter how frantic we were, we would eventually be reconnected because she would find her way to people. She LOVED people. One time her escape started with a mud bath and ended in someone’s car, as if the open door in their driveway was an invitation.

Thank you Sammy for being such a great dog, the wuppiest puppy and an amazing friend. We miss you.

The big C

The last post and this post were originally one in the same-written with fresh, raw emotions. Those same emotions that probably provoked me to delete. So instead you get the whole story until now, diluted by hindsight. So here goes...

It was a Saturday and we were on our way to Canton to visit friends when I got a call from Mom. Selfishly, I thought she was calling to check in on me per my ‘news’, but once I answered, I heard that tell-tale tone in her voice. You know, the one that raises the hair on your arms and creates a pit in your stomach. She got right to the point, “Your Dad's being admitted to the hospital. It looks like he’s in kidney failure. We don’t know much else right now. I just wanted you to know what is going on.”

That sickening calm came over me and I said ok, probably asked a question or two that I can’t remember now and told her to keep me updated. I hung up the phone and started to cry. I told Jonathan what I knew and we drove on in silence.

I’m not sure I remember much about that weekend, but I do remember doing some frantic googling because of how scary “kidney failure” sounds. I mean, when one of your organs fails, there’s no coming back, right? Well not in this case because he was quickly treated. He went to the ER because with severe back pain and a slew of tests revealed the kidney problem.

A couple of days to confirm, but the doctors suspected cancer. It turns out that the kidney problem is indicative of a specific type of cancer, Multiple Myeloma. He tested positive and they started him on Chemo immediately. 

So what is Multiple Myleoma? Well this is how the Mayo Clinic defines it - Multiple myeloma is a cancer that forms in a type of white blood cell called a plasma cell. Plasma cells help you fight infections by making antibodies that recognize and attack germs. Multiple myeloma causes cancer cells to accumulate in the bone marrow, where they crowd out healthy blood cells.  

That’s all very technical so I just tell people it’s in the same cancer class of leukemia and lymphomas.

Now what do you do, who do you call when you feel lost and you can’t lean on your mom and dad? Well, it helps when your best friend, the one that just beat the shit out of breast cancer, also works as a Nurse at Children’s Hospital specializing in leukemia and lymphoma bone marrow transplants. 

Kelli will probably have a better recollection than I, but I remember it all came pouring out--- Jonathan currently not working, me starting a new job (possibly), pregnant and now Cancer! While she claimed to not know much about this type of cancer (because it very rarely presents in Pediatrics), she knew more than most people, both from a first-hand experience of getting a Cancer diagnosis to also caring for patients that have treatment courses similar to what Dad would ultimately go through. She told me what she knew in that calming nurse way that didn’t over promise success, but also didn’t scare me to tears. OH I Love you Kel.

As the never ending appointments started for Dad, I would ask for as much detail as I could remember and then quickly dial my inside source. She would help translate what I heard third hand. What did she know about this drug and that drug, what does this diagnosis mean, should he be going to a different hospital???

The plan was for Dad to be on Chemo for three months (not the most aggressive Chemo, but not exactly anything anyone volunteers for). After the first three months they would check his numbers (what numbers, I don’t know, but they’d check them) and if the numbers were good (low?) They’d probably recommend an autologous bone marrow transplant.

What the what??

Essentially it’s a transplant of your own bone marrow back to you. They take the bone marrow – dose you with Chemo (like a shit ton of strong chemo) I think they call it ablative, and then give you your own bone marrow back. This is safer than getting a bone marrow transplant from someone else. But either way he has to be in the hospital for three weeks because he will have NO immune system to protect him.

After the transplant, they'd give him three months to rebound, you know, from almost killing him with Chemo. Then they check his numbers again and he’ll start back on the same lower dose chemo he started with.

Can you imagine all the questions I had for Kelli?

The most frustrating part is that all of the above information was not for sure. I think they were trying to tell us that it is a very fluid process and there are so many factors to take into consideration. There was no way to tell what the treatment plan would be in 6 months. We wanted to hear the plan, the checkpoints and the assurances that this would work. We were digging for hope and optimism. Yeah, the Oncologists don’t work that way…

How do I distill a whole year of my experience with this into one post? I don’t know. 

One day, I’d like to ask my mom to describe her feelings over the past year. I know my parents were in a precarious spot of being scared, but also driven to protect us and not worry us. I can’t imagine the fear, anxiety and suffocating worry.

All I can do is talk about the experience from my perspective. Deep down I was (and continue to be) more optimistic than my sisters. Maybe it was all the talking to Kelli, or just my denial that this would get really bad, but I didn’t think that this would be the end for Dad, just a really painful battle. I remember expressing my optimism once to my sisters. I immediately felt embarrassed and naive when these highly educated medical professionals didn’t have the same positive expectations. I also was worried that my optimism would be mistaken for under-appreciation of the pain, exhaustion and sickness dad would experience.

There were times when I was selfishly grateful that the worst of the experience would take place close to my home so I could be there for support. But to be honest, this stage in my life made it difficult for me to be the support I wanted to be for my parents. I want to be there for my young kids, but also pulled to be near my parents. Couple all of that with a new job in which I had to save all of my PTO for an upcoming maternity leave so we could still pay the bills. It was often a gut-wrenching feeling, dissecting the 24 hours in the day wanting to be in all places, knowing each day I took off work was stealing time from my unborn baby, but each day I worked, stole time away from my parents, all the while deferring my own feelings. There were days I cried at my desk, days I cried in the bathroom at home and days that I screamed at Jonathan for things that had nothing to do with him. Saying it was a hard year doesn’t really do it justice. And that’s just my perspective, I wasn’t even the one going through Chemo or caring and worrying for my partner who was trying to fight cancer.

It’s a lot to distill into one post, which is why this one is so long. I will end it with this text that Dad just sent this week – almost one year after his initial diagnosis.

"Good news today from the James. The latest bone marrow biopsy revealed Minimal Residual Disease MRD! The test is now refined to even reveal very low levels. In my case as Melissa told me they reported a big fat zero! This is the best possile outcome at this point...But in any event wanted to share this good news with all of you who have cared for me and worried for too long. Love you all."

It's never really over, but we are so lucky! Here's to a Healthy 2018!

January 2017

So I had a very long blog post somewhere that I must have deleted. It documented the craziness of January last year. My guess is that I deleted it because I didn’t want all of my negative feelings posted without time to resolve and come to terms with all of it. So now what I write will be through the lens of hindsight, and not as raw as what I probably deleted.

Close your eyes and pretend its January 2017, a year ago….

I’m still working at the big blue bank, but I am actively interviewing at a regional green bank at the same time Jonathan is actively looking for his next employer. It was during the month of January that the green bank informed me of their job offer. I’m a ball of nerves as I begin the negotiation process that determines the livelihood of my family. I am all for negotiating strongly and knowing that I’m the only one that will fight for me, but I’m also a chicken. Jonathan pushes me to ask for an obscene salary. I’m glad he does because it pushes me to ask for more than my modesty would normally allow. After many stressful weeks of negotiations we settle on a number. I unofficially accept and begin to plan my resignation from the blue bank.

It was around this time that I mentioned to Jonathan, half joking that “I don’t remember the last time I had my period, what if I’m pregnant?” Knowing how difficult it was for us to get pregnant previously, we both shrug it off with a laugh as a sign of our stressful lives. As I get closer to leaving one job for another, the thought again crosses my mind. I should just confirm that I’m not pregnant.

Here is the text exchange

He did not get that last message to not waste the money...

So for about a week, a pregnancy test sat in our bathroom taunting me. I finally decide to take it so I could throw it away. After the obligatory three minutes, I look down and faintly see that second line creating a plus sign. WTF? Are my eyes playing tricks on me? So many times I’ve looked at these tests and willed that line to be there, maybe that’s what’s happening. I’m seeing pink lines where there are none to be seen. But I know! I know that false positives don’t happen. Even the faintest of lines indicates something.

NOW WHAT? WE don’t have the money for another child, we don’t have the room, I don’t have the energy. I just accepted a new job. What will they do? How will they respond? I won’t get a maternity benefit. I am leaving a company that has one of the best Maternity benefits in the US. WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?? I was finally getting some independence back with the girls out of diapers, pull ups. Bottles, baby food, teething and Breastfeeding were almost distant memories. Yes, babies are awesome, but it’s not like I get the luxury of focusing my energy on the baby, I have to work, pay the mortgage and put food in the fridge.

I made it all the way to work before I sat in a room and cried. Oh the irony. The years of willing it to happen and then it did, just not in my twenties or early thirties!

So I did what any girl would do, I called my mom.

 She could tell I was crying so I had to quickly reassure her that it wasn’t anything bad (no one was hurt or dying). As my fears and poured out over the phone faster than my tears dropped I realized I was saying all of this to a woman who had raised three awesome children and was pretty successful herself, putting herself through school with those three kids and a full time job. I sounded foolish because all of the things I was scared of, she did and more. 

My biggest concern at the moment was what to do about this job opportunity…Do I pass on it because I ‘might’ need maternity leave benefits. I mean all I had done at this point was pee on a stick. What if I miscarried, what if it was false, what if, what if?? Well my wise mother gave me some great advice – “Marci, you pick the job that is best for your career and your family. Maternity leave is a one-time benefit and shouldn’t be the determining factor.” 

Boy I’m glad we had that conversation on the Friday we did, because the next day things changed. Her attention and focus rightfully shifted as Dad was admitted to the hospital....

2017 - in Retrospect

Hey, guess what? I'm still here.


Almost a year to the day of my last blog post I've decided (been bullied by Anna) to return to posting. 2017 was a very big year and I did not stop writing, I just couldn't find the time to edit it all and post. From career changes, to family changes, the big C and a little J only to wrap up the year with the loss of our dear Sammy. It was a lot to sort through and as always writing helps me with that.


So, for the next month or so - depending on how diligent I can be, I'll be posting 2017 in retrospect. I'll try and keep it chronological so they still make sense, but we'll see how this goes.

Wedding Anniversary - 8 years married, 15 together.

Not that kind of "Dear John" letter...

This week marks our 8th wedding anniversary, almost 15 years together. When I think back, we seem so young and naive. We really have grown up together. When we decided to get married, I felt we were crossing an invisible threshold into adulthood. How many thresholds have we now crossed? Each time making us more 'adult'. Luckily you (and hopefully I) haven't lost your juvenile sense of mischief. Although it does get harder to be ridiculous when you're trying to teach the kids to be responsible and smart.

I'll tell you what, I'm tired of being an adult sometimes. Can we go back to the irresponsible kids at OU. Do you remember when we had fans? When the biggest problem was paying for beer and what to do on a rainy afternoon?

Life is so complicated as an adult, always throwing tough shit our way. Even when it gets REALLY, REALLY BAD, I'm still proud of my younger self for picking so wisely. And proud of the foresight in the stubborn, younger you for not letting me go, even though I tried halfheartedly.

What I'm slowly learning is that the tough times don't preclude the beauty, especially that of our growing family. I understand better each day the analogy of a life being a tapestry woven together-without the threads of struggle, doubt, fear, anxiety and vulnerability so intertwined with joy, laughter, excitement and love we wouldn't have created this life, this deep, beautiful and sometimes painful life. 

The balance is hard. Prioritizing each other is something we are refocused on. Thank you for that. You bring so much laughter, levity, sensitivity and strength to me. Your spirit is the strongest thread of this family. When it weakens, we all do. I took that for granted. It really is what keeps us all burning bright and focused on the joyful moments in life.

Thank you for being patient with me (most of the time). I know I'm a very sensitive, passionate and emotional person trying to excel in a very logical, pragmatic world. It is big role to be the protector of a heart this big, and easily bruised.

I love you!

Caroline is 5!

Dear Caroline

Happy 5th Birthday my Sweet. You are so sensitive and so smart. The combination makes you seem so much older and grown up. I forget that sometimes, until you fall apart from all the grown up things you are carrying. And I admonish myself for not only letting you carry it, but also for not teaching the tools of how to put it all down. You're always teaching me how to be a better Mom.

It’s funny to me that five is such an important age for you. Leading up to your birthday you talked about how you think you’ll feel different when you wake up and are five, or how you’ll get to wear the big girl seat belt when you are five (not so much my petite girl). On your birthday, you kept asking “is it really real? Am I really five now?” And when everyone came over for our Christmas on New Years Day, you told each and every person that you are five now, for real.

You are so dramatic that Aunt Biscuit is insisting that I enroll you in dance or theater or something. You love to show off your moves. It seems that music speaks to your soul. This summer while playing in the sprinkler outside, you stopped in your tracks to focus on the small bluetooth speaker that played a pop ballad (probably Taylor Swift). You were having such a moment that I couldn’t break your attention to even get you to look at me. There was an invisible bubble that no one could burst, just you and the music as the world faded away. There is a deep well of passion in you that once focused will take you great places.

 Oh you are so sensitive, and full of empathy. You are often the first to give me a hug before I’ve even realized I needed one. When your sister gets hurt, I know it first by your scream, "Oh no Maggie!". But be careful little one, that empathy is a gift that you are generous with. Make sure to save some for yourself.

Another big milestone this year was when we confirmed our suspicion that you couldn’t see very well. With two parents that have never know the inside of an optometrist, it was eye-opening (pun intended). When I received your prescriptions, I immediately went to google to gauge the severity. Nearsighted, farsighted and astigmatisms were all concepts I never needed to comprehend until now. It turns out that those beautiful eyes of yours need some major lenses to even get you close to 20/30 vision. But on the bright side – a whole new world of fashion accessories has now be opened up for you (and consequently your sister too, as she demanded sunglasses to match).

Speaking of fashion, I love watching you pick out what you are going to wear every day. I stopped weighing in years ago, unless it was to keep you clothed and warm. At first it was all about the characters, Hello Kitty, Minnie Mouse, Elsa... But now it's about patterns, colors and combinations. Its all very bold and sometimes an overindulgence in patterns, but I love it. Its another outlet of your creativity.

Caroline, I love watching the blossom of new interests and the colors of your personality deepening and changing. I can't wait for more as we grow together.

I love you so much!

The Moo turns 3

                Happy Birthday my Maggie Moo…

I can’t believe you are turning three. You are so tall that sometimes it’s hard to think of you as only being three. Often thought to be Caroline’s twin, it won’t be long before you are taller than here and wearing the same size clothing.

Right now you are at an AWESOME age. You are talking a ton, but it is still with the newly formed words that haven’t been refined into discernible sentences. I often have to ask you to repeat yourself, only to throw my hands up and admit I have no idea what you are so adamant about. You have the tone right, but the pronunciation stumps even your sister.

You love to play pretend. Almost daily you look at me and say “I be princess and you be knight. Ok?”
 Or, if I have my phone in my hand and you want to play with it, I’ll hear you say, “I be momma and you be Margaret Jane.” Then, without any pause you follow with, “Margaret Jane that is momma’s phone. Give it to me.”

The other night we had a thunderstorm. The thunder was almost as loud as your screams. When I went to console you, you were visibly shaking and your eyes were as big as saucers. It was so adorable I almost laughed. I lay down with you and you clung to my arm with desperation pleading for me to stay. It was as if you were listening with your eyes. They darted back and forth with each increasingly distant roll of thunder. You informed me, between vigorous pacifier sucks, that the storm did not go away yet. 

Every day you shed another layer of baby from your face. You are changing so fast. It makes me sad and surprised and excited for your future all at the same time. I notice it most in your eyes, wide and innocent (unless angry at me, you have mastered the scowl). 

You are almost potty trained. But you will remind me regularly that this too is a skill not yet mastered.  Believe me, I’m ready to check that box on the development milestone chart.

My happy girl, you are pure sunshine. I'm so lucky to have your golden smile in my life. I love you.

SUMMER!

So it has been a VERY busy spring for us and a not very warm one to boot. I mean it's memorial day weekend, hot and humid and we had the furnace running just two weeks ago. Now I"m listening to the downpour of summer rain. That late afternoon shower that you can feel coming on. The humidity keeps climbing until the air can't contain one more drop and just bursts into buckets that create joyful puddles.

Right now Caroline is getting her shoes on so she can go play in it while Maggie snoozes.

We still have two houses that we are maintaining, but luckily the end is in sight. Ironically enough it was 11 years ago this weekend that we closed on that first house. Hard to believe how much has changed since then.

I had a whole blog post somewhere already written about a bad bout of stomach flu that took us all out. You know, a post that documents how awful it is to have two young kids vomiting especially when you are hugging the porcelain bowl yourself. In the madness of our busy lives I probably deleted it.

Life seems really good right now (or I'm just feeling especially optimistic). The challenges we face are really minor when you think about how hard others have it or how hard it could be. But of course the feeling of gratitude often leads to anxiety, the stress of wanting to fiercely protecting our fragile balance.That balance that is really beyond control.

Enough with that train of thought...I wanted to check in, continue to post and document our daily lives.

I'll close with some pictures that we had taken for Bubby and Grandpa's 40th wedding anniversary.

Happy Summer!

I call this one, EMO teenager in training



This is my southern belle - I imagine her saying, "Oh goodness me"

Sisters

The whole crazy clan

Updates on the family

Um, hello March. I don’t know where the time has gone.  Ok, I do know. I just don’t want to admit how much time and energy I’ve been putting into work lately. It’s not like I’ve been working crazy hours, but because I took on a new role, my energy has been disparately focused there and not at home. Nothing is ever balanced…

I’ve been meaning to write more often, but the ideas swirling in my head get lost before I can pin them down with any structure.  Just yesterday I was looking at a video from a little over a year ago of Caroline and IT BLEW ME AWAY how little she seemed, her words still mispronounced and her face still carrying the cherub expressions of toddler-hood. How grown up she seems now despite still only being FOUR.  There are no more babies in my house. Don’t get me wrong, we are still knee deep in diapers and tantrums, but those are the growing pains of a Moo who desperately wants to be as independent and grown up as her sister. By the way Maggie, I get it. I lived my life the same way. I watch you mimic Caroline and recognize that admiration at its core. I hope I can convince you that your individuality is what makes you special, do you don’t hide that to be like your sister no matter how awesome she is.

And Caroline, the great thing is I also recognize the pride you have for Maggie. Every time you squeal “SHE DID IT MOM, Maggie DID IT!” I know.  I know how you want to teach her everything and I know you are so proud when she learns it. I too have an awesome younger sister who I’m proud of daily.

Life is as complicated, messy and expensive as ever, but I’m trying to focus on the important things. Most days I’m failing. However, I’m happy to say that the past two months have presented many dance party opportunities. We take full advantage. Jonathan has even purchased a supply of glow sticks so any given weeknight, our family room turns into a rave. We all show off our moves and experiment with new ones that are too funny, crazy, silly to share outside of our own four walls. 

Anyways, I hear the Moo upstairs fighting with Dad in the bath tube. It's a signal that it's time for a changing of the guard.  Also, I have every intention of keeping this blog up and contributing to it for a long time, so don’t give up on me despite my quarter long absences.

2015, looking back

If you’ve talked to me for more than ten minutes in the past couple months, you’ve heard me say 2015 sucked. I’ve been saying it so much that Jonathan actually called me out the other night. He gently reminded me that 2015 was full of so many good things that could easily be forgotten with my broad generalization of the year. Caroline started Preschool this year. Both girls grew bigger, smarter and older without any major travesties. We traveled to Napa, Tennessee and had other great family weekend adventures.  There were giggles, dance parties and curiosities that peppered the pages of the calendar. So while I will tell you about the bad, please know that I’m eternally grateful for the good. It got me through.

I knew the year was going to start out hard and raw, with my Father in law facing the end of his terminal illness. We knew that day was coming, and quickly. What I didn’t expect was the call from my family, letting me know that my uncle had died. As unexpected as that news was, it was that he had chosen to take his own life that left us all numb, dumbfounded and guilt-ridden.

The first couple months of the year were a blur as we lay to rest two contrasting men. My father-in-law was so loud in his passion, big in spirit, and public life and honored in an equally audible way. My uncle never met an animal he didn’t like. His quiet, elusive and introverted ways were a balanced matched to the loyal, intuitive nature of his canine friends. We celebrated his life intimately with those whose lives he touched.

I would say that my Father-in-laws death has tested our marriage more than I would care to admit. In my head I’ve been making an analogy that his passing is like the death of a massive star. As with the death of stars, the weight of his extinguished life crushed upon itself, creating a black hole.  I watch painfully as some of my dearest family struggle not to be consumed by the gravity of it. I spent the first half of the year using all my love, anger, grief to try and pull my husband from despair, fighting the black hole, to keep him from being devoured.  He was fighting his battle with grief and I was fighting that. We were both entirely ill prepared, angry and alone.

All the fighting to keep the grief at bay left me feeling extreme guilt for not having dealt with the grief over my Uncle, and moreover not having the energy, wherewithal or ability to be there for my Mom as she battles the cyclone of emotions of dealing with suicide. 

With the heat of Summer upon us, we were all still tending wounded hearts, we got word that my Aunt (Also on my Mom’s side of the family) was facing the end of her 9-year battle with cancer.  This amazing woman was diagnosed with Stage 4 Ovarian cancer NINE YEARS ago. In those years, she’s seen both her sons get married, met two of her grandchildren, traveled, lived and loved. She accepted the diagnosis and finality of it all with remarkable grace.  My sisters and I were lucky to have some good reminiscing, laughter and visits before the end. She was a unique person that colored my life in bright and complex ways.  As you can imagine more death on this side of the family only magnified what we were still dealing with. Instead of closeness, the distance seemed to grow.

-----

Let me stop there to add some texture and complexity to the year. There are many areas of life- the day to day, your job, your relationships, finances, etc. Everything is rarely, if ever, all going well at the same time. But usually, if you have your rose-colored glasses handy, you can find some stability in one or two areas, leaning on those, until the other areas calm down.  I only point this out to illustrate my anxiety when too many pillars of stability are removed at once.

Turning back the pages of the calendar to last year, we had the optimistic eyes of new homeowners. We made the decision to rent our house rather than sell it. The thought being, if we could keep a tenant, it could be a nice little college fund for the girls. How easy it seemed. 

We did have a tenant for the majority of the year, but it was a constant battle to stay in contact, get utility bills paid and even to get rent. By the end of the year, there was no rent and no indication the tenant would be leaving on their own accord. I now know more about the eviction process than I ever wanted to. It was the beginning of December when we changed the locks and finally regain possession over our house. Our financial pillar of stability seemed to be crumbling.

I stood in the cold, dark, abandoned and abused house and very much felt like it was a reflection of my own heart.  A place that was once so warm, safe and clean degraded to scary, dirty and cold. It was heartbreaking. I walked through the trash left behind¬-a baby shoe, fast food wrappers and chalk drawings on the wall. The mom in me was screaming to do something for the people I just evicted. “But What?” I questioned back.

We’ve spent the last month cleaning up the damage. My heart is raw and our bank account is beyond bruised.  I will probably go over today to try and fix the stove (I don’t even know HOW they broke so many things). Despite the insane amount of money already lost, I’d rather throw more money at it than go over there and deal with the sadness and rage it invokes.

I’m beginning to think that house is the physical manifestation of the experiences we’ve gone through this year. And with that mindset, I’m looking forward to repairing, cleaning and preparing it for a new year and a new owner.

Similarly, I’ll be working on repairing, cleaning and prepping my own heart for a new year with a few goals in mind:

Go on a vacation 

Exercise (the demons)

DANCE in the living room with my family

LAUGH more

Spend more time celebrating the happiness, allowing it to grow bigger than any of the anxiety and sadness