11.11.2009

everything and the kitchen sink.

Since this is our week off of chemo I thought I'd pretend to be normal for a moment, skirt my household responsibilities and BLOG!

Phil and I were on WTKA this morning talking about multiple myeloma. It was fun getting back on the air, seeing how it's been about a decade since I dabbled in broadcasting. Now I dabble in making tasty grilled cheese sandwiches, wiping butts and building awesome Thomas the Tank Engine tracks. Which is super fun of course, just a different kind of fun. Never fear, because we did our best to rock the cause and Phil will probably stop back by during OSU week to talk a little more.

I took some clothes out of the dryer last week only to realize that someone had crayons in their pockets. Complete. Disaster. All three pairs of my jeans, most of the kids clothes and some serious bedtime loveys were damaged beyond repair, it seemed. I called my mom gasping, "Crayons! Dryer! No pants... Heeeeelllllllllllllp!" After talking me down she reminded me about Lestoil which worked beautifully. I took it a few garments at a time, and just finished the batch over the weekend with my BFF Lindsay. (Don't worry, concerned citizens... we were outside on the porch. Lestoil fumes are nothing that two pregnant women should be breathing.)

Iris's second birthday is coming up in about ten days. Last night I asked her what she wants for her birthday and she said, "Mimi make me a cake!" Shocking, isn't it, that:

1. She knows someone has to make cakes and they don't just magically appear out of thin air before you put them into your shopping cart.
2. She knows that someone isn't Mommy.

Of course this could be due to Ocean's recent obsession with asking me of everything he puts into his mouth, "How did you make this?" Usually, lately, the answer is I didn't. Either someone else made it and brought it to us (Thank you, loved ones!) or it's, like, a granola bar and I have to explain who Kashi is and why she isn't exactly one of my friends.

No matter... Iris will be getting pre-made cupcakes from Whole Foods because that's how I roll here in the myeloma age, folks. She said she wants a Thomas cake, so I'll probably just stick one of her many Thomas the Trains on top of her cupcake and call it a day. A very happy birthday that is. Either I'm a terrible mother or I'm a very tired- but very resourceful- genius.

In non-birthday news, yesterday I was rinsing out a glass at the kitchen sink and suddenly the water stopped coming out of the tap. Interestingly, I could still hear water running. Or rather, spraying. I turned it off and opened up the cabinet and immediately said a very bad word because all the random, useless crap I hide underneath my kitchen sink was soaking wet and I just don't have the time to sit and dry all of that, people. This happened a few months ago to the other hose under there and Phil's dad was able to fix it for us (the guy who plumbed our house when it was built a year and a half ago wasn't exactly thorough. Obviously.) so Phil decided he was going to do the same thing his dad had done. Because I typically swing the hammer around this homestead, I got nervous. But he and Ocean went out to get the parts they needed and started the job. Towards the end of the project some assistance was required so I immediately put out an A.P.B. on Facebook for plumbing help and Jill, my coupon comrade and coffee companion, sent her husband Kevin over stat to help assess the situation. Long story short... dude totally fixed our sink with my hair dryer. Not kidding. The universe keeps trying to give us wet willies but our friends keep coming through. Booyah, universe! Shout out to Jill and Kevin... you guys totally saved the day my sink what's left of my sanity.

While all of this was going on, I was trying to get ahold of Comcast to get our rates lowered. We already have the most basic of the basic cable packages. I think they call it the cheapskate package because it just includes the networks and my beloved, can't-live-without-Curious-George-and-Clifford PBS. Plus somehow HGTV snuck itself right on in there too, which is always a fun distraction from laundry in the evenings. Our internet though, basic as it is, was still ridiculous. We also recently decided, since Phil has begun working from home and needs a phone line, to get rid of our expensive cell phones and just get an old fashioned, honest-to-goodness house phone. So when I got through to Comcast I told them I wanted to cancel our internet. Naturally Alfonso started in on the hard sell and I stuck to my story that it's just too expensive, Alfonso, and the economy is terrible here in Michigan and have you even heard about Pfizer and the Big Three and we want- no NEED- to cancel our internet. It didn't take long for him to lower our payment by almost $20, and he offered us digital phone service for $15 a month with no set-up fees. Which will save us roughly beaucoup bucks a month. All I'm saying is, Alfonso is my new homeboy. And also maybe you should call your cable company like NOW and tell them you want to cancel and just see what they say? And if you do get your rate lowered, let me know. We'll run a little Spilled Milk cable company recession experiment.

So there you have it. Crayon-free clothes, a lower cable bill and a working kitchen sink. What more could a girl ask for?

11.09.2009

a teensy update

Gosh, life sure has gotten in the way of blogging lately. My days are full of choices: Eat or blog? Sleep or blog? Breathe or blog? I'm still alive, so blogging has been the clear loser here.

I've been consumed with all the cancer... yet still, life marches on. Iris is saying things like, "Are you so cute, little kitty? Yes you are!" and "You're my best friend!" and "Is it awesome?" And Ocean is so into Spiderman that it's almost scary, especially because he has no frame of reference for it, and thinks the guy in the suit is Peter Piper.

The new little nugget is just over 16 weeks along, and is starting with the fetal acrobatics, though not as intensely as my other two were at this point. I'm taking that as gospel that I will have one laid-back child. Pray for me. I forget that I'm pregnant most of the time, which is a good thing right now I suppose. Ocean is very serious about naming the baby Socka. We will see about that.

As for me? I'm tired. I don't even have the energy to pretend I'm not. I asked Ocean today if he could play quietly at my feet while I closed my eyes for a minute and he said, "Sure Mommy. Look at this! Did you see that Mom? Look, Mom!" Naps just aren't in the cards right now, and may never be again, I'm realizing.

But none of that really matters too much. The kids, antagonistic as they are to one another, are generally happy. Phil is on the road to health. I am plugging along. And we're doing okay, all of us. So in the grand scheme of grand schemes, I can't really complain.

I hope you're all well. Or, as Iris would say, Awesome.

10.22.2009

my precious peeps

When I go in to get Iris out of bed in the morning she says, as soon as I open the door, "You're kidding me."


We can't call Iris anything but Iris. Not funny, smart, fast, cute or sweet. If we refer to her as anything other than her name, she insists, "NO! I'm Iris!"


When you tell Ocean anything that he doesn't agree with, he responds enthusiastically and insistently with "Sure."
Examples-
Me: Ocean, Iris is saying no because wants you to stop doing that.
Ocean: Sure she doesn't.

Me: Ocean, you need to take two more bites before you can be done.
Ocean: Sure I don't.

Me: Ocean, it's time to go to bed.
Ocean: Sure it's not.

Me: Ocean, I don't want you going outside without a coat.
Ocean: Sure you do.


Here's a scene that unfolded the other night while we were in the playroom. I had a tummy ache and was laying on the floor, and the flower tattoo on my lower back was apparently exposed. Ocean was playing football and wearing his helmet, and Iris was brewing something in the play kitchen using Ocean's Memory game.

Curtain.
Ocean: Mommy, play football!
Me: My tummy hurts.
Ocean: (sympathetically patting my stomach) Oooooohhhh, I'll take care of your wittle puffy tummy.
Iris: I'm makin' soup!
Me: What kind of soup?
Iris: (comes over to us) Memory Soup! Whatcha doing, mom?
Me: Laying on the floor.
Iris: (looking horrified and tugging at my shirt) Cover up your flowers! COVER up your FLOWERS!
Ocean: (throws his football at my rear end) BUTT CHECK!
Ocean: (grabs the football) Here comes nothin'... (punts it across the playroom)
Ocean: I WON THE GAME! Iris, I won the game, you little genius!
End scene.

10.08.2009

a modern day fairy tale to send you off into your weekend.

When two people who've been married for five years and make pretty adorable children together and like each other enough most of the time have a cancer crisis and need to make decisions around what to do once chemotherapy probably sterilizes one of them, they do what any rational, not mentally ill people would do.



Half of you are probably thinking, "Hooray!" And the other half are probably thinking, "Hooray but... what the hell is wrong with you?!" So to answer your questions: Yes, we are crazy. No, in fact I do not know what I'm doing. Yes, we have thought about the long term and short term problems that this may present. No, a fear of the future cannot and will not rob us of our present joy.

It's sad that I feel like I need to defend this choice, but it comes because I've already had to do it a few times. So just to put to rest any doubt or worry that anyone may have about how we'll manage with everything we have going on, let me explain.

It is a luxury to sit down and have a discussion with your spouse about if and when to have the next baby. It must be fun to have a few months or a year to plan it, time it just right and execute said plan. That, however, is a luxury we just didn't have. We're still very young. We knew we weren't done having children. Those who know us well know we've wanted to adopt but that option became highly unlikely with an incurable cancer diagnosis. The doctors said treatment in a month so bank your sperm. We said let's give it a shot this month. And it worked out. And even though the timing may seem less than ideal to some, we are elated. Because the baby will be coming at a time when Phil will be on the upswing from his transplant. Because no matter what happens, we will never, ever regret having a third child. And because, really, who wouldn't want another one of these?


So I'll be 12 weeks on Saturday and I've known for eight whole weeks now! Which is why I haven't been posting much because I'd probably give it away with all the "Barfing Again" and "I'm soooooooo tired I could just zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..." Honestly, though, I've been feeling very well considering the stress, and being at the beach for the two roughest weeks was a major plus. (Thanks, Mom and Dad!)

There are several of you out there whom I haven't yet seen in order to tell in person and for that I apologize. Let's just say I'm at the point where hiding it is nearly impossible and I actually had a nurse at the hospital on Tuesday declare, "Oh wow! You're pregnant!" (I guess my philosophy of not making assumptions about pregnancy until the baby is actually crowning isn't universal.) So I hope this will remove some of the awkward Is she pregnant or did she just eat a HUGE breakfast internal debate you would be having with yourself the next time you saw me. You're welcome.

Lots of love to you all, and lots of baby updates to come I'm sure. Should we get a gender poll going?

10.07.2009

*cricket, cricket*

I'm posting a lot more over here these days. Ideally I'd love to combine both blogs but I don't see it happening. Phil is under the impression that each blog may have a different audience. He's right, but it makes my life more complicated. So I just hope you all will join me there occasionally and hang tight over here also. I'll have more posts coming at the end of the week. Promise!

9.25.2009

fragments of funny

Many ridiculous things have been going on and if I currently had the ability or desire to form a cohesive thought I'd probably have a more clever way to present them. But really I just want to get them written down so I can throw away all of these durn post-it notes. So here they be.

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Ocean and Iris were chatting on the porch in their swimsuits. 
Iris: [points at Ocean's nipple] What's that?
Ocean: It's my mole.
Me: It's your nipple.
Ocean: It's my nipple.
Iris: Ooooooh! Nipple!
Ocean: Yeah, it's for the milk.
Iris: Milk?
Ocean: Yeah, for my baby.
Iris: [looks horrified, probably because she never liked nursing anyway]

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Iris calls lasagna Zanana.

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When Ocean doesn't hear you he asks, "What you said?"

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Any item bearing the label "Spot Clean Only" is practically an open invitation for one of my children to urinate all over said item. Thankfully, I don't pay attention to labels. In other words, Ocean's stuffed zebra will never be the same.

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Ocean: [yaaaaaaaaaaaawn]
Iris: [looking disgusted] Excuse you. Ex. Cuse.

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My mom: Ocean, I was watching you run around on the beach earlier and you just looked like such a big boy!
Ocean: Maybe it's the sunglasses?


9.20.2009

more pictures.

Iris and my dad. She isn't enjoying this vacation as much as I would like. In other words, she screams every time we try to take her down to the beach.


Naked lunch:


Ocean and I in the pool:


Phil and I on our 5 year anniversary date (it was Thursday):


Ocean doing a shark imitation at the aquarium: