Fierce.
May 14, 2010
Google is a winding path of sorts.
You start off at one subject and end up someplace completely unexpected.
Most of these journeys are fruitless, some teach you a little something.
I following a meandering Lish path not too long ago and ran across this gorgeous couple, Karen and Todd Andrews from Minneapolis.
The path leading me there is not important at the moment, but when I arrived there I ‘met’ 2 gorgeous people on CaringBridge – folks about my age (though a million times better looking), successful young people with a strong relationship with each other, supportive family and friends, and a really horseshit road to travel.
Todd’s got cancer.
And not just cancer, he’s got Cancer. With a capital C. But he’s also got a supportive wife, a supportive job, a good outlook and this willpower that keeps him going when the Cancer keeps trying to kick his ass.
Had this bastard disease not jumped him, he’d have beautiful kids and a long life ahead of him.
But the first has been rendered impossible biologically with the chemo treatments. The second is up in the air.
And his beautiful wife – she’s the one that gets to me the most. She’s sunny and sparkly and so fierce. I think she would literally kick Cancer’s ass if she could just get her hands on it. Just by sheer will. You can tell she’s one step away from screaming it out of him… dear heavens, I wish that would work, too.
Together they have taught me, without even realizing it – because they don’t know who the hell I am, a little bit about marriage and the unexpected and how it changes you – but not what your marriage is.
It’s a bigger word than I thought originally.
And they get up in the morning (or afternoon) when I’m not sure I could. And they go to the park and to baseball games and they keep LIVING because this damned cancer isn’t going to take that away from them if they can help it…
They’re just simply beautiful.
And I PRAY, so hard, that there is a treatment that can help Todd.
Life is so precious.
Repost.
May 12, 2010
I hate what’s happening to my backside.
I have always had a large ass, but now, without gaining any weight whatsoever, I am now the proud owner of a muumuu ass.
Which.
I know you know what that means.
It’s an ass that starts at my shoulderblades and has no end – at least not an end that anyone can see because who can focus on trying to find an end to that thing when they’re trying just to be in the same room with it without being squished to death against a wall somewhere?!!?
I’m so pissed about this.
Mom helped me feel better about it though… by grabbing my newly growing baby belly and moving it all around to see how the fat makes it dance. Over and over again.
Yep. That definitely helped my self confidence levels.
Life is DEFINITELY about to change.
May 7, 2010
The basics of parenting.
March 31, 2010
Being a parent is hard.
I know everyone says that a lot and I can assure you that no matter how many times you say it, it’s true every single time.
There’s no greater love than that for a parent and a child. I could like quite easily without my husband, though I love him quite a bit, but living without Abbey would be another ball of wax completely.
That being said, there is no greater pain or fear than that that comes along with parenting.
You worry if you’re spending enough time with them.
If you’re spending enough of the right time with them.
If your punishments fit the crime.
What to do if they don’t.
If you’re a single parent you wonder why you are always the only one punishing the child.
Why you are stuck with all of the responsibility and yet the child seems to appreciate the fun times with their other parent with a more exuberant joy than those with you because there is never any punishment.
You worry about the influences at home, the outside influences, the lack of influences, the lack of motivation.
You worry that you’re pushing too hard, being too soft a spot for them to land on when they fall and you worry about not being there when they need you the most.
Or them not being able to tell you that they need you.
You want to slay the dragons without being the dragon.
You want to teach them without shoving the knowledge and lessons into their head.
And when all of these worries take place every second of every day, well, then congrats – you’re a parent.
And it’s hard.
It hurts. Hurts so incredibly much when they try so hard for a goal they don’t reach.
It hurts when they fight with their friends.
It hurts when they fight with you and tell their friends what a monster you are.
It hurts when they tell the other parent stories to keep from accepting responsibility for their own actions – which then throws you right back into the tumultuous merry-go-round of ‘what do I do about this?!’
It hurts when their heart hurts.
It hurts when the parent/child togetherness time is a drag, as it so often begins to be in their teenage years.
I’ve had broken hearts and I’ve been a parent and I can tell you this.
There is no greater capacity for love and pain than that which parents carry around with them.
And there is nothing else on this planet that is quite as worth it.
Or that can bring you as much happiness.
We’re struggling right now, Abbey and I.
I want her to take responsibility without feeling useless.
I want her to close her mouth and open her ears so the need for attitude and arguments with friends and teachers and adults alike disappears.
I want her to stop telling her stepmother and father tales about the situations that she finds herself in.
I want to not have to be the bad guy all of the time because I’m the only adult.
If that child only had one iota of an inkling of how much love I have for her – how often I think of her – how awesome a kid I think she is, even when she’s hard-headed and dramatic.
If she knew all of the good things I wish for her… I have to hope that it would make a difference in the outcome of all of this.
I have to hope that she’d choose what was right for her instead of what is easier and more fun at the moment.
Or choosing what has less consequences.
If there is anything I’ve learned it’s that the right thing to do is generally the toughest.
Tough love.
Hurts to receive. Hurts a helluva lot more to give.
Yarnie Frustration
March 29, 2010
I’ve been knitting more – my one-time exuberantly overwhelming hobby. It’s still a hobby of sorts, just lacking the old urge to spend tons of money. I think that’s a good change, as I already have quite an interesting stash, for someone who doesn’t own a yarn room to store it in.
For now it sits lonely in my PODS storage unit, and I dutifully climb over the mounds of boxes and furniture to reach it when needed.
It’s quite an effort, actually, so I’ve made sure to only start projects that are well worth it.
There’s something rather calming about it 90% of the time. The urge to bounce and pace and vibrate in my seat slow down just a bit and I can accomplish something beautiful.
The other 10% are days like today.
Where I get excited about a new and somewhat difficult project, knit through 10 frustrating rows past the monotonous ribbing, only to realize that I’m knitting unevenly… having forgotten half of a row in the correct pattern and instead having skipped on to the next.
Yes. It’s Monday. Damnit.
You can’t even skip rocks on a pond this shallow.
March 9, 2010
I’m cranky.
I won’t lie.
Crankiness is the inevitable sign that my hormones have caught up with me and that life is crowding around, preparing to scream in my face.
Crankiness takes up a lot of my energy so I don’t generally yell back when that happens.
Ever have that moment where you KNOW you’re at a crossroads in your life and you’re actually scared of taking the wrong AND taking the right path?
I’m there.
My nerves are leading me down the ever energetic road of vibrating legs – I’m bouncing my desk up and down as we speak – it’s uncontrollable.
I don’t think it would be so bad if I weren’t second guessing so much of what I’ve done until this point in my life.
I’m being led in a direction by my principles and faith that feels right and BIG – so much bigger than I could have ever dreamed of on my own.
And I’m scared.
I can’t share this – these thoughts – with most people because what if they’re just the shallow thoughts of someone who wants to try a million different things in life before she dies?
What if this feeling, this desire to make a difference, is simply a figment of the moment?
And why can’t I stop being so damned vague?
It’s not my nature!
But. What if I say it out loud and people laugh?
Or if it’s the right way and I wish for it – if saying it out loud means my dream-of-the-moment won’t come true?
Will my generic career fickleness come back to haunt me?
Oh surely, it will.
Everyone around the house is doing well – Abbey’s trying out for cheerleading this week.
Yes. I gave birth to THAT child. Who’d have guessed?
I’m much more the nerdling type, but I suppose I can manage my way through the icky world of estrogen that cheerleading builds up for the parents.
this makeup in the morning, doing hair, making sure our clothes look great thing is completely new to me.
I was the kid that did the shower/smell-test/go! form of mornings.
Janie is doing well – the steroids have kicked in, meaning that confining her to the ground has been difficult. She stubbornly waits until I turn my head and jumps on something – and if I see her about to I catch her and put her up there myself. Only for her to jump down and back up as though to prove to the world that she can. Minx.
3rd week weigh-in tonight.
I’m curious if the trend will continue.
I’ve been picking up iced tea in the past few days – a habit that could become a habit… an odd one, since I don’t LIKE tea.
I just miss something to drink besides water and milk.
3 weeks without soda though. 21 days.
Technically they say it’s a habit now.
Horseshit, I tell you. Horseshit.
Learning can come from a very short amount of living as well.
February 26, 2010
I wrote a bit ago about Layla Grace and how she has touched my heart.
The amazing thing to me is not that she could, really, but that so many people feel the same way.
Following tweets regarding her lead you through big names like Kevin Smith, Ryan Seacrest, Jenny McCarthy and Lance Armstrong.
Amazing.
Amazing the power of this electronic world, that between blogs and tweets and facebook news of Layla has spread around the world.
Being a parent means that you want the absolute best for your children. You want to leave a legacy for them to remember. You want them to remain in good health. You want every happiness for them.
In this case, it’s Layla that’s leaving a legacy. Layla that will look down and wish her parents and sisters every happiness.
Her mom has said on her blog many times that Layla has accomplished so much in her short life - that obviously God had a plan for her.
And she’s right.
Because there are other people out there like me, people that find themselves waking up in the middle of the night to check twitter for updates. People with prayers on their lips and in their hearts. Even non-believers with fingers crossed and hopes and well wishes.
Before I never knew anything about childhood cancer. Now I know that there are strange names and strange cancers that I’ve never heard of whose victims make up such a small part of the cancer community.
But small isn’t less important. In any way.
These are cancers with small cure rates and long memories.
Small amounts of press and large amounts of suffered.
How many of you have walked a 5k in honor of Neuroblastoma recently? Exactly.
In the past few months I’ve read blogs and news articles and science bits and learned more than I ever wanted to know about the things that can twist and warp inside our bodies.
I’ve learned to value myself and my health more – a blessing I’ve been given that I take for granted.
And I’ve been growing this knot inside of me that says that my life needs to mean more.
You see?
Layla’s even leaving a legacy to me. A total stranger. A friend of a friend.
My life has changed for the better simply because she has existed.
I love her for that.
And wish like hell there was something I could do to make this easier on her family. But especially on her.
God bless her sweet little heart.
Fasting is for quitters.
February 17, 2010
I always relish the beginning of Lent.
I suppose I don’t focus on it the way that I should – I always want to use it as a method to give up something and lose weight. Or to try to fast more than I should.
And then I inevitably fail and make light of it the next year.
For instance, last year, I gave up Nicholas.
Which. Considering we didn’t plan to see each other during Lent wasn’t really a hardship. Or wasn’t really a hardship that I’m not already used to.
This year, however, I broke out the big guns.
Soda.
Now, for those of you that don’t know, I have a love affair with carbonated beverages.
Champagne, sparkling water, soda, etc.
If it’s carbonated, Lisha likey.
They don’t, however, like me.
Or maybe they do, considering how long they’ve been sticking around on my thighs.
Besides a few personal revelations that have left me reeling and questioning the direction I want my personal motivations to go in life, this year has brought a knowledge that being addicted to anything really is one of the biggest wastes in life. Taking luxuries for granted to the point where I am addicted to them? Ridiculous.
(disclosure: I am NOT saying addicts are ridiculous. I am NOT saying that there isn’t a real problem and real hardships out there with addictions… I’m simply saying that there are people out there without clean drinking water and instead of feeling overly blessed about that, I’m off jonesing for a root beer. THAT is pathetic.)
I’ve really been reevaluating my priorities and one thing I’m learning is, this money-grubbing societal mess of whiny ass people complaining about not being able to afford $200 haircuts anymore is NOT for me.
I don’t belong here.
These are not my people.
I’ve listened to sad stories for two years now and looking down from my high horse while I technically make the average salary for an entire HOUSEHOLD in my state is ridiculous.
My free time needs to mean more.
It needs to appreciate family more.
It needs to take care of myself better.
And in doing so, I’ll be able to be a better me and move on to a more final (yet not quite concrete idealistically) goal of helping OTHERS.
And so. Along with the beginning of Lent and my soda-less desk today brings a new activity.
Weight Watchers.
Yes. I am officially a part of those stereotypical middle aged women that sit around bitching about salads.
And yes, there is a reason that stereotype exists.
And when I jumped on the scale last night at my first meeting I realized something.
I have REALLY let myself go.
Fatty McFatterson exists and thy name is Lish.
In an attempt to gain insight to my usual eating habits – the one meal I eat a day and the snack I eat at night – I ate something I might indulge myself in every six months and THEN calculated points.
(being Ash Wednesday cuts out the usual 2 eggs and turkey bacon that I have)
So… I had chocolate milk and a package of chocolate doughnuts.
I know it totally defeats the WW purpose but IN MY DEFENSE… I was facing 40 days without soda and I just didn’t give a rat’s petunia.
The tally?
21 points.
Out of my daily ration of 30.
So.
Won’t be pulling that egocentric stunt again.
Still, with this being a day of fasting, all was not lost.
A granola bar at lunch added 2 points and leaves me with 7 for a VERY light dinner… considering the whole fasting thing, well, it’s perfect.
Score. I am keeping my first day right on track.
For those of you keeping score that means today was a day without soda, without meat, without regular meals and starting Weight Watchers.
Whether or not the food was what they intended, it actually falls in the rules of what I’m supposed to do, so I don’t feel like a failure, merely a hedger.
Stay tuned for the next few days where lack of carbonated awesomeness makes me hang small children and adults from trees by their middle toes.
Clenching the armrests.
February 16, 2010
Ah, I love Valentine’s Day.
Well.
No, I don’t.
But with my husband in Minneapolis, I’m not subjecting to much of the pink and red stuff.
In fact, the only thing good about Valentine’s Day is the guaranteed flowers. I LOVE getting flowers. LOVE. And cards. But Nick hasn’t quite picked up on the fact that getting a card – A real card – means way more than a gift does to me (hint.) and so we’re still working on that one.
This V-day didn’t bring flowers though – no, it wasn’t giftless. Nick’s very aware of the date – he likes the holiday! Go figure! But the gift was unusual even for him and that makes it neat in its own way.
As for Nick, I bought him a coffee gift card.
That sounds lame, I know.
But anything electronic or hobby-ish he’d prefer to pick out himself and doesn’t tend to hold back on buying. He’s pretty stocked on clothes – way more than me at the moment – and his only real activity, other than racquetball and gaming, is drinking coffee.
It’s his new addiction – and Caribou is feeding it nicely. Now, I’m helping Caribou along and my thrifty husband will be enjoying coffee for at least a week or two on someone else’s dime.
For him, that’s a win-win.
I won’t say the day wasn’t depressing in a way.
Now that we’re married I’m quickly heading towards devastated that we aren’t together yet. But.
I’m still counting my blessings – and there are many.
Not enjoying much of Fat Tuesday – never do.
Though this year I think I’m going to try the mother of all sacrifices for Lent.
SODA.
I know.
I wasn’t sure about putting it in print. This would take more willpower than I’ve ever shown towards anything in my life. So. I don’t want to put it in print and have people nag me about it.
But. I’m thinking this may be the real deal – the big attempt.
I don’t want to. Who wants to give up their addictions?
But I will. I can. If I just say it often enough.
Now, if my husband would give up internet gaming we’d be at full sacrifice mode. But he isn’t likely to do so – I don’t think the symbolism means much to him.
But. I’m growing in some ways that I never expected and it’s become important to me for me to make a Real Gesture. Not just for myself or my faith, but for other people as well. And for the me that I’m becoming.
The notion that I get to choose what I go without doesn’t sit well with me, especially when I think of those in Haiti and what change this path month has brought to their lives. People all over the world are sacrificing things that I take for granted and the notion that I am so incredibly lucky that I’ve been able to have a chance to become addicted to something as soda – when so many can’t even get clean drinking water – well… that’s pathetic.
I need this, I think, to teach me about taking material things for granted and to help me get in touch with my lost willpower.
Such a small thing to symbolize so much, I suppose.
It may even sound stupid.
But it’s a start.
And it’s definitely much harder than it sounds.
I currently drink a little over a gallon of water a day, two gallons of milk a week and soda every day. I’m like a camel with a liquid fetish.
So, this is Big for me. And some people may not survive my attempt. (She says as she takes a swig of her Coke.)
Ah yes. This next month or so should be interesting.
Pray for my family.
Layla.
February 11, 2010
I’m not going to lie.
I want to scream.
SCREAM.
I have faith too – I love God. I pray. I believe.
But I am so darned angry – not at Him, not at anyone in particular, just angry!
How can everyone be so darned positive and hopeful?
I don’t even know Layla Grace.
I don’t know her family.
If I’m viciously honest, I’ll tell you that I have absolutely nothing personally vested in the Marsh family.
And yet, my heart is breaking.
I do know someone who loves this family, loves Layla very much.
And I remember her telling me when she first found out about her diagnosis.
And I started watching. Little by little, until I check the blog and twitter constantly on the hopes of a positive update – ANYTHING that gives this girl more time, more chances.
It’s hard not to care for a family that loves so openly and so much.
Loves God, each other, their children.
And these wonderful positive people with their friends and family have put together fund raisers, get togethers, prayer meetings, and have brightened the world with their ability to deal with crisis and heartache.
And me, some selfish bystander, all I want to do is scream about how unfair this is.
No, that wouldn’t help anyone. They might have the urge to, but I’m the one saying it out loud.
This is NOT fair.
This baby should NOT have had to go through this.
This family should be experiencing tantrums and bedwetting and arguments over food for dinner.
They should NOT be trying to balance hope and pragmatism about this darling girl’s life.
There should be something someone can do.
To fix this, to make it better, to heal her, to help them cope.
WHY isn’t there?
Lord, Please bless the Marsh family. Please help Layla’s parents continue to put one foot in front of the other, please help Layla become pain-free. Please help the people who know and love these people hurt a little less and hope a little more – because YOU CAN heal all things. And little Layla can be perfect again – and even if that doesn’t happen the way we wish it would, it will happen. And that’s what matters. Layla Grace. Please help them, Lord.
