The Demise of the Tooth Fairy

I knew this would happen eventually. I knew that no matter how hard I tried to stop him, one day JT would grow up. This morning he grew just a bit too much for my taste, I may have to look into shrinking him...

Two weeks ago I was rummaging in my jewelry box for a bracelet when I noticed JT had come up behind me and was picking through the pile of random things I had tossed onto the bed. I realized what he would find only a split second too late, and watched helplessly as he opened the tiny box that held all of his baby teeth. He stared into the box for a moment, and in that moment I am positive he knew the entire truth. Still, he hesitated, and asked me what was in the box. I tried to be dismissive and redirect his attention (pay no attention to the teeth behind the curtain!) but my Mommy tricks were of no use. He demanded to know why I had stolen his teeth from the Tooth Fairy? I told him the truth, obviously. After the Tooth Fairy takes a tooth, she gives it to the Mommy for safekeeping. JT cocked his head to the side as he absorbed this and then asked why the Tooth Fairy would pay for teeth she doesn't keep? I was backed into a corner by now. Literally, my jewelry box is in a corner. I asked him where he expected the Tooth Fairy to stash all the bajillions of teeth she collected each night, and confidently told him the Tooth Fairy had entrusted his teeth to me, and then I pretended not to understand any further questions. (Sorry, I can't hear you when you mumble!)

The day before yesterday JT lost one of his front teeth, and as always he placed it in a ziplock bag under his pillow before he drifted off to sleep. In the morning when he woke up the tooth was still there. I am ashamed to admit this Tooth Fairy dropped the ball. I completely and totally forgot about the tooth transaction. In the morning JT woke me up and shoved the plastic bag in my face with the tooth still inside, a bit petulantly actually, but I couldn't blame him. I grimaced internally before flashing a reassuring Mommy smile and explained that since he had gotten up to sleep with me in the middle of the night the Tooth Fairy hadn't been able to come. I told him he had to stay in his own bed all night. He snipped back that he had stayed in his own bed all the way until 4am as he stalked off to get ready for school.

Last night, I crept into JT's room at 2am and balanced precariously on an IKEA chair next to his loft bed. I slipped out the tooth and replaced it with a fresh $5 bill, then added the tooth to my little collection.

This morning JT walked straight up to me and announced that he didn't think the Tooth Fairy had really come. He said "You know what I think? I think you have been taking my teeth! Where are they? I want to see my teeth!" Like I had been holding them hostage? Finally, I let it go. I told him that I was indeed the Tooth Fairy. I expected him to be disappointed, but instead he looked pleased with himself, as though he had solved a great mystery.

Mica's teeth should start falling out soon, until then I plan on sleeping through the night and spending my spare cash on Starbucks rather than a creepy collection of baby teeth.

(Someone explain to me why I still have the teeth!?)

A Very Un-Fabulous Day

I know I promised to post my own "Eat This, Not That," and that you all have been waiting with baited breathe throughout the day for my little post, but today is just not the day. Today was one of THOSE days. So today you see the not-very-fabulous-running mommy's diet when I snap and need carbs. A lot of them. I am going to place the food in chronological order, along with its excuse.

Wake up to find the kids' lamp fell and shattered all over the carpet in their now pitch black room. The kids are still asleep from being up late for my birthday dinner the evening before, and all 3 of us need showers. It's also my volunteer day at Mica's class...

Breakfast: apple and 1 slice of cold leftover vegan pizza in the van while driving to Mica's school, an hour late.

Snack: Spent chasing 4 year olds and heaving them all across the monkey bars once they realized Mica's Mommy is a sucker.

Got home and received a text from my Dad that he lost a piece of JT's broken glasses (long, unimportant story.) JT is blind without glasses, need to get to Sears for a replacement, but no time to get there and back before JT gets out of school. In the meantime the dog bites Mica, and as I am punishing him Mica has an "accident."

Lunch: The rest of the cold vegan pizza, carrots, strawberries, a bag of trail mix, a half a pot of coffee, and the crusts off Mica's PB&J.

Get JT and get to Sears, no they don't have the frames, it would take a week to get them. Need to go to Lenscrafters.... forgot the prescription at home. Home... Lenscrafters... wait for my Dad who graciously covered the glasses since he lost the piece from the other glasses. 5pm, headed home to make dinner (planning Moroccan Couscous) and realize the kids' room is still pitch black. Swing by Kmart for a lamp... get stalked by weird little man who I finally turn and stare directly at, he then asks me if I speak Spanish and scampers away when I growl NO (in Spanish.) See a Lil Ceasars in the Kmart and grab a pizza for the kids, I'll finish off the Chana Masala.

Get to the car, JT spills the entire pizza on the passenger seat of my van. I snap and start yelling at him only to realize he burned himself, and I have to totally apologize and help him clean up. Saved most the pizza, get home, serve the kids and...

Dinner: Half a slice of pizza with (most) the cheese and ALL the pepperoni peeled off. The crust of 2 other slices. A large glass of white wine.

Dinner #2: Now if you'll excuse me I am about to finish off that Chana Masala with a Smart Bagel smeared with Tofutti cream cheese.

Dessert: Another glass of white wine with some dark chocolate while I watch Greys Anatomy and pass out!

JT's First Run!

I banished another lazy day today with a sudden fabulous idea. I was attempting to lace up my running shoes and simultaneously read Perez Hilton when I noticed JT laying around in his pajamas at 11am. I told him to go get his running shoes, we were going for a run. His first run! He hopped right to it and before I knew it we were jogging out of the complex for a 2 mile jog around the block. He took off fast and burned out early as I knew he would, but constant encouragement and cheering kept him moving. I told him if we do this often he can run with me at my next event, and he says he wants to run a marathon! I have no doubt one day he will, and I will eat his dust! I left my watch at home but we made surprisingly good time, and in way under a half hour JT sprinted the last quarter mile to give a strong finish to his first run! Go JT!

We will be running the NF Walk at the CTF Patient Forum next month! Who's in?

Breathe

For the last month every breath I have taken has settled deep into my chest, weighing me down and crushing my every step. Everything beautiful seemed cruel and daily tasks became painfully redundant. The world stopped, and I wanted nothing more but to turn it back further into time when my son was a tiny baby full of promise and potential. Each night as I have tucked him in I've lingered just a bit too long at his bedside, planting kisses on his warm cheeks and whispering promises and prayers over his head. Today Tish and I took JT to CHOC to learn more about JT's brain tumor behind his right eye. Always a joy to be around, JT skipped into the MRI room and held his own sedation mask, pretending to sleep immediately and stealing smiles at the anesthesiologist. Everyone was smitten with him, his personality is infectious, and as he faded into twilight his hand dropped limply from mine.

He was heavily sedated this time around and struggled into consciousness, crying and shivering, only to fall back asleep sporadically over my shoulder. Time ticked by slowly and soon he sat up with that gorgeous smile, asking for a popsicle and apple juice. His tears already forgotten, we wheeled him across the hospital to see Dr. Loudon, his pediatric neurologist. Tish and I nervously sat passing the time as JT happily played on the floor. Soon it was his turn, I walked into the exam room and prepared for the worst...

Dr. Loudon swooped in with a smile and a firm handshake. I immediately asked what was going on with his eye, and Dr. Loudon looked at me completely perplexed. His eye? What about it? I asked if he had reviewed the MRIs yet and he said he had, and what was I talking about. I said his neuro ophthalmologist diagnosed him with a brain tumor behind his right eye last month and Dr. Loudon immediately brought us back with him to his computer and reopened the scans. Tish and I stood there awkwardly, stealing meaningful glances and assuming that at any moment Dr. Loudon would turn to us and say oh there it is. Instead, after taking a very thorough look, he turned and said he had no idea why his eye would be bulging because there is no tumor. He then suggested I find a new eye doctor.

What could I even say? The moment was ridiculously anticlimactic. I had a list of questions about tumor fighting drugs and radiation therapies, and instead was being referred back to a normal pediatrician to test for simple non-tumor related eye issues. My heart was exultant, but my head wont let the news sink in. If I believe it is true am I going to have my heart broken again? I feel vulnerable and suspicious, jaded by years of bad news I don't know how to be grateful for amazing news. We left the building and walked toward our van, laughing and chattering as though nothing had just happened. Nothing happened, the world never stopped, it was there all along, and suddenly I can breath.

And so it begins...

I am angry at the Universe. Angry at God. Angry at my husband, at the doctors, at myself, and at anyone around me who doesn't realize the sky is falling. This isn't about me, my anger is self centered and pointless. Right now I need to be the facade that shapes JT's perspective. The rock that teaches him resiliency. The lie that tells him everything is okay.

My son JT is the 5th person in my family to be born with NF2, and I had convinced myself that with technology advancing as rapidly as it has there would be some sort of treatment available before JT even grew a tumor. Everyone else in my family started growing tumors around their pre-teens. So why was my baby diagnosed with a brain tumor yesterday?

In November Tish and I both noticed JT's right eye was bulging. (If you are not up to date on why this is a problem you can catch up here) I fought to get him in immediately at Dr. Borchert's, and he was kind enough to squeeze us in after the rest of his appointments yesterday after 5. I sat quietly, assuming he would turn and tell me JT is fine and it was a case of over bearing motherhood. Instead he turned with a concerned look and asked when JT was going to have MRI's. He goes in the 25th of this month and the doctor said that is really good because.... JT has a tumor behind his eye in his brain. The doctor wrote, "[The tumor behind his right eye] swells when tired because blood vessels in the tumor drain slowly after lying down." He needs an MRI to find out the size and type of tumor. Tumors are named for the type of cell they originate from, and there are several different types of cells behind the eye. The doctor assured me that NF2 tumors behind the eye are generally benign and slow growing. I have been assured by doctors one too many times in my life to swallow his placations.

My concern is that there was a marked change in appearance in JT's eye from only November to New Year's Eve when Tish saw him and was immediately concerned. She hadn't seen him and the change was more apparent to her than to me, being that I see him every day. Until the 25th I have no real answers, and even then will most likely be advised to simply "watch and wait."

I am flooded with prayer promises and I cannot help but fleetingly think they are nothing but words to keep our empathy busy. How many prayers does it take to get an answer? Yet as I form the thought I pray for forgiveness for that weakness of faith. To this God whispers a hug, the God I know only loves us more when we are angry.

Now is not the time for childish suppositions of invincibility, now is the time for reality. Obviously JT has a complicated case of NF2. Developing tumors pre-pubescently generally means a person has a severe case, what does that mean for JT today? Absolutely nothing. What does it mean for him in a year? I cannot answer that. The worst part of NF2 is the idea that you are always broken but never really sick. He is not in pain nor is he going to have treatment any time soon. When faced with a challenge as a Mother I want to meet it head on, and instead I can do nothing but watch as my child grows more tumors and lives their consequences. I look at JT and I see his potential. He just scored in the 84th percentile state wide on the standard testings, he taught himself to spin like Michael Jackson on the ice in an hour his first time skating, he is ridiculously handsome and so amazingly special. I have a deep rooted and hopefully irrational fear that the Universe wants to claim him for itself, too bright a star to walk amongst us.

So I pray, and I feel that I am doing something, anything, rather than absolutely nothing.

Fall out...

My stove is sticky, my laundry is in a huge pile, my kids are eating Top Ramen (again), and my acrylics are ready to fall off... I have a midterm, a paper due, and a week long trip to pack for. I have been so focused on this marathon, and supporting the team, that my home has fallen apart a bit. I wouldn't be too worried, except that my Nana is staying here with the kids while I am gone next week, and as Tish pointed out, this place should be as clean as a hotel... um how about a motel?

Instead of really accomplishing much today I have puttered, sipped coffee, and moved piles around. I am really good at reorganizing piles. Go me! However, I did get my marathon wrap up emails out to both the team and my supporters! I also found out that I was mentioned in the Long Beach Press-Telegram's write up of the Long Beach Marathon! Front page! I plan to play the "I ran a marathon" card for another day, and yes that does include wearing my medal everywhere.

Now I must peel myself off of this desk and actually accomplish something concrete before Paul comes home. If he gives me the look, I'll just wave my medal in his face.

10 Signs You're a Fabulous Running Mommy!

1. You wear a fanny pack and insist on calling it a "Hydration Belt."

2. Even on a beautiful day you are stuck running on the treadmill.

3. You own biker shorts you've had since the 80's.

4. You absolutely love the race expos and spend time there... shopping.

5. Your fastest mile is 8mn on the treadmill and you are insanely proud of it! (as you should be!)

6. You tried following a marathon training schedule, but the long runs were longer than your preschooler's schoolday.

7. You "accidentally" leave the timing chip tag on your running shoes for a week after the race and sport it at the gym.

8. You want to scream at the young girls on the race course... "It's a sports BRA it goes under your shirt!"

9. You call your girlfriends when your Runner's World arrives, and let your subscription to Marie Claire run out.

10. When you get back from a run you... start laundry, do the dishes, feed the kids, make the beds, clean the bathrooms, have a shake, take a shower (with the baby), go to Target, go to a birthday party, stop by Trader Joes, come home, start dinner and have a big ass glass of wine!

Donut Day

Lopsided pigtails peek over my bed and a tiny mohawk outline creeps past my feet. Suddenly a puppy is excitedly licking my ear and JT and Mica bound onto the bed, jumping on me and signing D right in my face with unabashed expectancy... It's Sunday Mommy! It's DONUT DAY!!! Mica rubs her protruding belly and says I hogrey and JT sticks his lips out in mock sadness as though I haven't fed him in days. I tell them ok, tell Daddy it's time! When Daddy comes back in the door with that little pink box we're all ready and waiting with our pajamas and smiles. Those little piles of sugar may cost just a few dollars, but to us represent the end of another week together, and the beginning of things to come. Donut Day frames our existence and gives us permanence. Even if Daddy is at work all week, or Mommy has been sick, there at the end of the week is a routine that gives us all stability. That is what makes these 4 random people a family. Who knew a donut could be so powerful?

JTs Annual Neuro Opthalmology Visit!

On Tuesday JT finally saw the neuro opthalmologist at Children's Hospital Los Angeles. It took several months to get him in to be seen by Dr. Borchert, and I was incredibly happy with the exam and information I received.

JT and I drove the hour long trip to Los Angeles on the same day as the Michael Jackson memorial, which of course was only a few miles away from the hospital. I was so worried about traffic, but that turned out to be unecessary. As we drove JT asked me if Michael was a boy or a girl. When I told him he was a boy, he said well then why did he look like a girl? How do I answer that?

So we reached the hospital and JT was a bit tense, he hates having his eyes examined, especially having them dilated. So of course I was tense as well and in full Momma Bear mode. The nurse who took us back profusely apologized for our relatively short wait, everyone was helpful and friendly. They took a full history on JT and communicated with me by typing on a computer in the room.

Dr. Borchert came in after a couple of hours and did not really speak to me until after JT had been examined, dilated, and then examined again. JT seemed to like him, and did not struggle with the drops at all this time! I was so proud of him, he took it like a champ. After the doctor and the residents shadowing him each peered into JTs eyes, he picked up a pen and wrote, and what he wrote in 4 minutes if more information than I have ever gotten in the last 3 years of biannual vision exams JT has had...

In JT's left eye is what appears to be a very small tumor called an astrocytic hamartoma. Dr. Borchert has seen these commonly in his NF2 patients. For now, it is not affecting his vision and is very small. It needs to be monitored as it could potentially grow.

JT has been legally blind in his right eye, possibly since birth. We call it his "bad eye" and he tells me it is broken all the time. Dr. Borchert is the first doctor to tell me he has what is called a combined hamartoma of the retina and RPE (retinal pigment epithelium.) This is incredibly rare, even in NF2. The rarity comes from the involvement of the retina as well as the epithelium from what I understood on Google! If you look closely at the photo in the center of the eye, you will see a large grey mass taking up most of JT's retina. It will stay the same size his entire life and continue to block 80% of his retina as it has since birth.

This seems like a lot of information, but technically it is just details on what I already knew. Neither lesion has grown and JT has adjusted very well to having limited vision.

Happy 3rd Birthday Mica!

Mica turns 3 today! I cannot believe it has been 3 years since my precious crazy Mica Stinka came into my life. When I was pregnant, I was sure the name would be Isabella Michelle. The moment she was born Paul and I both looked at her and just said she looks nothing like a Bella! Micaela Estelle, at first Paul was skeptical, but then I said we can call her MICA and he was sold. She has been precocious from the start, growling at her visiting guests and rolling her eyes before she could walk. She has no patience for stupidity, and pushes her way around with a little Shirley Temple stomp. She still sucks her thumb, I hate to admit, and when I tell her to get it out of her mouth she laughs mischieviously at me as she wiggles it around. She tells Paul, "You're not funny Daddy," and looks off into the air as though she doesn't hear me when I ask her to do anything not on her agenda. Every night she demands a bedtime story, then we sing songs from Cinderella, and lately she has been singing the last lines... a dweem that you wish, will... come... twuuuuuuu. She is stubborn and adorable, a little ball of fire. She is perfect to me, and I cannot imagine my life without my little princess, she is my dream come true.

Musings of a 6 Year Old

JT is seriously getting theological on me. Today as we walked home from school I commented to him that he has been behaving so much better the last few weeks of school. The teacher's complaints have stopped, he has been finishing all of his work without (too much) whining. I am very proud of him. I asked him, what changed? He said he prayed to God to make him a good boy. I was so flabbergasted... yes I said flabbergasted! I never taught him to pray, and was immediately ashamed that I had not fostered his obviously natural spiritual inclination. So I told him I pray every night, and he said that he does too, as he falls asleep. I asked him what he prays, he said he prays for the morning to come, and for a plasma TV for his room... I tried so hard not to laugh, but will definitely be encouraging this newfound good habit of his.

Over dinner he told me he doesn't want me to get old and die. I told him, everyone has to be born, and everyone has to die, but I wont die for a very very long time, so eat your burrito. It didn't really work this time, worry etched his smooth brown face. He said he doesn't want to die either, and where will he go? I said I don't know, nobody knows, but I think you will get to go see God. That mollified him a bit. A moment later he asked when I was a baby, where was he? I said he didn't exist at the time. He could not grasp that. I finally gave in a bit and told him he was in my heart. I hate giving him unrealistic answers to honest questions, but he really had me backed into a corner. I can't exactly tell a 6 year old all about life and death. It would be so much easier if we were Christian, or Muslim, or Jewish... really any religion with specific answers to his questions, but I refuse to give him religion as a crutch. I'd rather give him sentimental cliches, such as being in my heart, and when he is old enough I hope he will appreciate that I never chose his spiritual path for him.

Thus Spoke JT

God is dead. This is what my 6 year old came and told me the other day. It wasn't the first time, but this time he seemed a bit more determined to get some answers out of me. His best friend is Christian, and in reference to Jesus keeps insisting God is dead. JT has no idea who Jesus is, or how he could be God, and seems confused by the entire idea. Really, who isn't? So I told JT God is not dead, She will live forever, and we all came from her. In the past this was sufficient, but this time he dug his little heels in, and said no, God is dead! I really am not ready to discuss with him the complexities of philosophy. I don't want to tell him that people worship different variations of God. I don't want to tell him people go to war over it, and vote over it, and generally do not agree on it at all. How can I tell him one minute that all love comes from God, and the next inform him that most war does as well? He is too little to separate the idea of religion from spirituality. So I give him the same answer we all believed when we were little: God created you, He loves you, He will live forever, and He cannot die.

Why can't we all keep it that simple?

Looking Forward

I am officially registered as a student at Chaffey College... again. I have my AA already, but want to go back and take the classes that interested me, but were not useful toward my degree. I am nervous to sit in a classroom full of students a bit younger than I am, with a transcriptionist following me to each class setting up and typing everything being said for me. I am incredibly lucky to be able to attend classes and have a transcriptionist, but no one wants everyone to turn and stare at them on the first day of school!

I have to let the negative just fall behind me, as I always do, and look ahead to my goals. I already have taken several fashion design classes, and plan to take all of the sewing classes so I can make extra cash doing alterations and private sales. At the same time I plan on taking more ASL classes, philosophy, religion, and of course creative writing!! I think it would be great if everyone had the chance to pursue an education that includes the things that really interest them, I am so blessed to be able to, and am anxious to get started! Fall is going to be amazing, Mica will be in school in the mornings, allowing me to train for my marathon without having to leave her with a sitter. My mornings will be filled with higher learning and faster running! *Never give up hope*

Solitarily

With my husband working out of town I find myself alone for long stretches of time. During the day the kids and training keep me busy, after we all spill back into the condo and follow the usual routine, minus the part where Paul walks in and we all jump on him. I'm getting some real quality time with the kids playing Life after dinner at the table, Paul's empty chair the pink elephant in the room. At 8 my babies are tucked in tight and I face my empty living room or cold bed, unsure of what to do with myself. I try to text Paul, and get back a few flimsy messages, I give up and let him be. I stare at Facebook for a while, realizing I just don't care. I think of all the things I could be working on, fundraising, brainstorming... and settle for some Tivo time instead. At the funny parts I awkwardly laugh, feeling like I am talking to myself, and finally give up and drag myself to bed. I'm still afraid of the dark after all these years, and as each room is darkened behind me my pace quickens until I leap into our bed. I worry my deafness will cause me to sleep through the worst of emergencies. Shadows dance in our hallway, and I miss the curve of Paul's shoulders breaking my moonlight view of the creepy closet. I hug my pillow tight and sleep, what else would there be to do? Fitful, restless sleep, waking with a start only to drift back off. I wake up around 2 to find both my babies have crawled into bed with me, and along with the dog we make a warm little pile of happiness. I finally sleep a dreamless sleep.

The Tish

My Mom once told me she was happy I have a stepmom like Tish to help me through the rest of my life I would have to live without her. She knew that the day I got married, Tish would fit my veil and fluff my dress, and that Tish would be at my college graduation, and that I would turn to her for the advice my Mom would be unable to provide. I can't imagine, as a Mother, how painful that would be. Tish is the one who pointed all of this out to me. Tish is the first one in my life to ever give me an ongoing stable source of constructive criticism. She has become the rock in our family, the person who doesn't allow my Dad and I to feel sorry for ourselves or get away with the debauchery of years past. Before Tish, there were no expectations, only a liberal-hippie parallel existence between my Dad and I. She swept in quietly, respectful of her boundaries, and then slowly knocked them all down and slapped a bit of sense into us all. She's brutally honest, and as the saying goes she suffers no fools. She's also really fun to get drunk with and always provides free liquor and food, people love her for that, especially me! She did fluff my dress on my wedding day, the wedding that she planned within a week and people still talk about to this day. She did celebrate my college graduation with me, and bought me pearls while telling me that every woman needs pearls. I do turn to her for advice, and when I don't, she still gives it to me, and I don't know what I would do without it.

Happy Mother's Day Grantish!!

Disattachment Parenting

As a child I was forced to eat the vegetables on my plate, and I don't suffer from allergies or anorexia. I was spanked when I didn't behave, and I am not violent or damaged. My parents would fight and make up in front of me, and I have a perfectly healthy marriage. My mom didn't carry me around all the time and I am completely secure. I was teased, I was made to do chores, and I knew if I ran my mouth I would get smacked. There are way too many bratty whiny crayola named kids running around in Crocs covered head to toe in sun block on a cold winter day with hawkish Moms begging them to please behave. I actually don't blame these Moms, I blame the media for attempting to instill fear in us at every turn. (Know anyone with Swine Flu?) When I turned to the internet to find a remedy for Mica's thumb-sucking I read that if I force her to stop she may suffer from self-esteem issues and to gently discuss with her the ramifications of thumb sucking instead. She is 2. I'm going to put duct tape on her thumb and flick her hand everytime it goes near her mouth. If she calls me stupid (again) I'm going to whack her on the butt. If JT doesn't finish his dinner, and is hungry an hour later, he is going to be hungry. Don't fear for my children, I am pretty sure they will survive.

Milk is for Babies

No other species drinks the milk of another species. No other animal drinks milk past infanthood. Milk is meant to encourage growth in the offspring of the nursing creature. Dairy cows are kept in horrible, tight, cramped conditions. They are unable to even turn around or lay down for hours at a time. When they give birth to a calf the baby is immediately taken away, and the cows are known to cry and bellow, kicking the walls in their tiny dirty stalls in pain. If you don't care about how the cows are treated, then consider the disgusting health conditions of thousands of dirty cows in the heat covered with flies dripping their mastitis infected pus into the milk that is forced out of them by hormone abuse. Milk is nothing but fat and cholesterol, all the nutrients the dairy association has convinced you that you "need" from milk can easily be attained by other healthier sources. The calcium so highly touted by the dairy conglomerates actually comes from the plants the cows eat! Cheese, butter, all other dairy products contain even higher levels of cholesterol and fat than plain milk. Stop drinking dairy, and see how quickly you stop bloating throughout the week.

Personally I still struggle with cheese. I have easily replaced milk with vitamin enriched rice milk, and yogurt with SO Good coconut milk yogurt. But cheese, my evil lover, I give you up and you are back the next day, covering a delicious piece of veggie pizza. Hey, I'm working on it, and I will get there!

I don't give my children milk either, and limit their other dairy intake. I like to think I am raising them to view animals and simple creatures who inhabit the Earth the same as we do, not walking vending machines put here for our unappreciative abuse. My kids don't go to the circus, where beautiful wild animals are dragged from town to town in cages. They only eat meat when we visit other people's houses, and I hope that eventually they choose not to eat carcass at all. I do leave that decision up to them, and as of now JT is a proud little carnivore.

My little Mica, Paul thought he had her on his nasty flesh eating side, but Mica adores animals. She has since she was very litte, and I have a feeling as insensitive as she can be that God's furry creatures are her soft spot. At Amy's Farm yesterday we saw a cow, and the other Moms asked their children what comes from cows, to which they smartly replied Milk! I asked Mica, baby what comes from a cow? She said... "a baby cow!" That's my girl.

Defined

2 nine minute miles followed by 2 miles of 2 minute hard intervals. That is my favorite new run! Hard enough to make my abs ache when I try to run after Mica, but short enough that I am not motivated to eat everything in my house within hours of finishing my protein shake. With Paul home a lot more lately my workout routine has been de-prioritized, and I am struggling to find the time to run the 20 miles a week I have committed too. People have told me running is just my hobby, and such is life. If you ever call running a hobby, then you don't know me very well. Runner defines me as much as Mother does, and we all have the right to be the person we see ourselves as. So I squeeze in my hard run and breathe deeply 3 times instead of 5 in each yoga pose, I sneak in my 200 sit ups while the kids take a bath, and politely decline a 2nd glass of wine over dinner. So every moment I am consumed by my responsibilities I am still living as a runner, because when you run you are a runner between runs no matter how far in between they may be.

It's all about the Family

JT just keeps getting into more and more trouble at school. I've explained that little boys who don't behave in class never get into college and end up homeless. I have spanked his butt red. I have put Xbox into a box and given him a toothbrush to scrub the floor. I don't know if I should be proud he is so strong-willed or angry he cannot control his impulses. Currently JT is grounded from living... well we allow him to breathe and read, but that is it. Our 50" flatscreen (had to drop the shout out) has been curiously dark since the last bout of punishment. Over the subsequent week an odd thing has happened... we got used to it! With the TV off the kids have discovered they own several boardgames, wrestled around with our chihuahua as much as safely possible, and drawn intricate tribal designs (or so I assume) with sidewalk chalk on our patio. We went for a family swim today and JT has told me he wants to start running with me! Tonight at our 3rd dinner at the table of this week I announced that from now on all dinners would be at the table. After some discussion we have made several changes to our family:

The TV is no longer on without specific permission, and there will be absolutley no TV in the morning, and until all chores, homework, dinner, and showers are completed nightly.

Tuesday night is Family Game Night! No TV at all, with board games after dinner.

Friday night is Family Movie Night, the one night of the week we will eat in front of the TV, with a family movie.

Eating out will be limited to one night a week, either Saturday or Sunday depending on our schedule.

I feel refreshed and look forward to implementing our new schedule. I see my children appreciating our time spent together, and recognizing that family always has priority. Maybe that was a lesson Paul and I needed to learn as well, and I can only hope we will be rewarded with well behaved and grateful children.

Now if only I can convince Paul to stop eating meat! Paul would say if only now Olivia would get off the computer... oops....

MRI Dreams

It's 8 am and I just woke up, have been asleep since 4 pm yesterday. My online mommy friends comment how lucky I am and I murmur a smile as the grogginess fogs my thoughts. My body feels slow, like a grape falling through not quite set jello. I forced myself to run yesterday, and my feet carried me across hot pavement until I doubled over the bright green spring grass, wretching the last bit of home made pumpkin bread unsettled by my awkward gait. I took a swish of water and kept going, forcing my eyes to ignore the hot burning rays of sun creating criss cross patterns on the sidewalk between the shadows of leaves. I ran straight to the gym and went through all the usual motions and repetitions, 3 sets of 12 on every machine I have figured out, yoga, more sit ups, and finished just as Paul pulled up in the van. I plopped down inside, sweaty, out of breath, and nodded off on the 3 mile drive that felt so far just an hour ago. Just a quick shower later and I found myself in the MRI room. Has it been 6 months already, or have the last 6 been a dream and I have never left to begin with? 2 muscle relaxers later that MRI bed is like a womb, I floated in and out of consciousness until finally I emerged and walked back out into the harsh light, again into the van and whisked away home. Did I ever leave the van or was the MRI a dream? I tried to humor the kids, asking questions about their day, only to find myself sent to bed and falling into a deep sleep. I woke suddenly and it was pitch black, it couldn't possibly be 2am? I tossed and turned the remainder of the night, finally rising as the sun creeped through my blinds and tossed slivers of warmth across my pillow. How can I be so tired when I have been dreaming since 12pm yesterday? Now I have to go act as if I am fully present and get through another day, Mica smiles will help, and JT hugs when I get him from school. MRI results later this week, and then I can pretend to be whole for an entire 6 months...