Mama Wisdom for the Holdiay Break

Preschool is closed until the new year.

I should probably be excited about the opportunity to spend two whole weeks with my beautiful children, playing and celebrating the holidays. Instead, I'm a little bit terrified.

Did I mention it's two whole weeks, plus two more days?

But instead of quaking in my slippers and trying to figure out how to get Sesame Street to play on continuous loop, I'm making plans with friends and remembering this note that came home from Junius's preschool teacher last week:

"As my children get older, I struggle more and more to fit into their schedule. It doesn't seem that long ago that they were happy to sit with me on the sofa and watch Charlie Brown or read a Christmas story. At the time, I remember thinking that what I really needed was time to run to the mall or wrap a gift. I didn't realize how quickly the time would fly. While your children are small and still think you are the greatest thing ever, please take the time to make those memories that will last. Make cookies together, let your child help you wrap gifts for the family, read a Christmas story, sit on the bed and tell your child what Christmas was like when you were a child. Before long your children will be grabbing the car keys and running out the door. You only have them for a short time -- make it count!"

So now we're heading out for a fun morning with friends at the Museum of Life and Science, where I won't be distracted by my computer or the 782 things that need to be done around the house before everyone arrives later this week. We'll have a great time with minimal whining (by me or them) and lots of activities.

And hopefully all this fun togetherness will have another side benefit -- a good naptime for the kids so I can still have a few minutes to myself when we return home.

Hooray for Birthdays!

December is my birth month. And yes, I like to stretch out the celebrating as long as possible. I'm a huge fan of birthdays in general, but mine in particular. When people complain about birthdays as a marker of getting older, my response is always, "It's better than the alternative."

The American Cancer Society has started a campaign for more birthdays, proclaiming that "there's no such thing as too many candles!" And even if I do get a little nervous about growing older, I completely agree with that slogan. I know that my friends who are cancer survivors are celebrating every candle, and I'm cheering right along with them.

In honor of my birthday, I hope you'll take a moment to read the guest post below from a great blogger, mom, scientist and cancer survivor. You might also want to read her more recent post in defense of mammograms, following the new guidelines released by the U.S. Preventative Services Task Force -- as a scientist and a survivor, she knows what she's talking about.

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From WhyMommy at Toddler Planet:

Inflammatory breast cancer

There’s more than one kind of breast cancer. Did you know that? During October, we’re so often flooded with “buy pink” campaigns, and reminders to check ourselves for lumps, that it’s become almost commonplace. We all know that we should do regular self exams, and we’ve heard it so often that the urgency often fades into the background of children, spouses, laundry, and work. But did you know that there’s a kind of breast cancer that forms without a tell-tale lump?

It’s called inflammatory breast cancer, and it spreads FAST. The cancer forms in thin sheets, or in nests, like a bird’s nest of cancer growing inside your breast. There are few external signals or symptoms, and they’re sneaky too, since most of them are similar to mastitis, which many of us have experienced while breastfeeding a baby, or bug bites, or sunburn. But taken together, one or more of these symptoms can signal a dangerous cancer lurking in your breast.

What are the symptoms? Here’s a list, from the IBC Research Foundation:

* Swelling, usually sudden, sometimes a cup size in a few days

* Itching

* Pink, red, or dark colored area (called erythema) sometimes with texture similar to the skin of an orange (called peau d’orange)

* Ridges and thickened areas of the skin

* Nipple retraction

* Nipple discharge, may or may not be bloody

* Breast is warm to the touch

* Breast pain (from a constant ache to stabbing pains)

* Change in color and texture of the areola

There’s a great illustration of these symptoms over at Worldwide Breast Cancer that is guaranteed to be not like anything you’ve seen before….

In my mind, it boils down to this. If you notice ANYTHING DIFFERENT on one breast that’s not on the other breast, please CALL YOUR DOCTOR. Today. Because this cancer moves fast, faster than almost any other cancer, and is deadly. Only 40% of patients survive 5 years after diagnosis.

In the 2.5 years since my diagnosis, I’ve already lost a dozen friends to cancer. Many of them were moms and bloggers, readers just like you. They fought hard. They fought with everything they had. But cancer treatment is largely still in the experimental stages, and it’s a tough road. Just to be here today, I had to not only survive cancer, but also survive 6 months of chemotherapy, 7 weeks of daily radiation, 2 surgeries to remove my breasts and ovaries, and a lot of physical therapy to deal with lymphedema, which makes my arm swell in the heat when I step outside (as a lovely side effect of the mastectomy that took all my lymph nodes on that side). It’s been a hard, hard road, but I’m grateful for the chance to be here today, to hug my children, to play their games, to laugh at their knock-knock jokes.

There is joy after cancer. But first we have to get there. So please, take a moment, call/email/blog/tweet/update your friends, and SHARE the SIGNS of inflammatory breast cancer with the people you care about. You never know. You might just save a life.

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Just in case that's not enough to motivate you, check out this fantastic video courtesy of Ilina. She reports that "Emily Somers created, directed and choreographed this video in Portland for her Medline glove division as a fundraiser for breast cancer awareness. This was all her idea to help promote their new pink gloves. I don't know how she got so many employees, doctors and patients to participate, but it started to really catch on and they all had a lot of fun doing it. When the video gets 1 million hits, Medline will be making a huge contribution to the hospital, as well as offering free mammograms for the community."

Handsome Guy Wins Heart of Younger Girl, Romance Ensues

News of Patrick Swayze's death this week has no doubt prompted thousands of blog posts. This post comes by specific request from one of my BFFs, with whom I watched Dirty Dancing many times and who emailed me yesterday to say, "If I still had a Netflix subscription, I would move it to the top of my queue."

When Dirty Dancing came out in 1987, I was in 9th grade. It was an awkward, but hopeful time for me. As a high school freshman, the movie played nicely into my imaginary world (along with Sixteen Candles and Pretty in Pink), where the handsome, popular, older guy suddenly noticed quiet, smart, younger (and let's be honest, somewhat dorky) me and swept me off my feet and into the time of my life.

Sadly, that never quite happened in high school. But it didn't stop me from watching Dirty Dancing over and over and over again, particularly at sleepover parties with my girlfriends. Although we never discussed it, I assume we were all thinking the same thing:

"If it can happen to Baby, it can happen to me! No one will put me in a corner!"

As it turned out, the handsome, popular, older guy did notice me in (grad) school one day, years later when I'd convinced myself that those things didn't happen in real life. There was less leaping and dancing in my version (and fewer cut-off jean shorts), but just as much knee-weakening and heart-fluttering. Now when Pippi is old enough to watch Dirty Dancing, I'll be able to tell her -- after she finishes mocking the 80s -- to believe in the dream, to trust that true love will find her, to know that she is beautiful.

Of course, then I'll tell her that she has a 10 o'clock curfew and isn't allowed to go anywhere alone with a boy. And just like that, I'll find myself identifying less with Baby and more with Baby's parents. Wow.

Photo from Virgin Media.

He says it there and it comes out here

Junius loves to talk. I have no idea where he got that from (*ahem*), but he really does. Even when he's wrestling with the stutter that occasionally comes and goes (apparently a normal developmental thing for 2- to 5-year-olds, especially boys), he still keeps talking. And talking.
And talking.

As he gets older and his vocabulary expands, it's fascinating to listen to what he comes up with and try to decipher where the ideas or words came from. I feel like I'm working some strange puzzle, searching for the links to things we've done or books we've read or shows we've watched until I can make sense of his story.

Here are two favorite excerpts from the past few days:

In a conversation with a grown-up friend over the weekend...
Junius: The Red Wings and the Penguins played for the Stanley Cup last night, but the Penguins won.
Ms. S: Oh really? Did you want the Penguins to win?
J: No, I wanted the Red Wings to win.
Ms. S: So did that make you sad?
J: No... [and then he paused, looked at her and said very carefully and clearly] I was disappointed.
[Strangely I found myself tearing up at this moment. Not because I was so upset for the Red Wings, but because my baby sounded so grown up. Also, we have no idea why he became a Red Wings fan, but it could be the red uniforms remind him of the 'Canes.]

Talking to his dad at bedtime...
"Alex used to be my big brother, but he's not anymore.
Now my big brother is Walt Henderlite.
And Pippi's big sister is Dot Henderlite."
[This is funnier when you know where the names came from. Alex is his best friend from preschool, who happens to be about nine months older than Junius. Walt is my friend from college who met us for lunch earlier this month -- it was the only time I've seen him in more than a decade, but he's tall and apparently that made quite an impression on Juni. Dot is a character in A Bug's Life, which is the movie we recently let Juni watch -- she's the little sister ant. And Henderlite is the surname of a family in our neighborhood whose house we'd passed that morning on our walk.]

Side note: The photo is Junius playing hockey. I'm noting that for you just in case you can't tell because he has a golf club, a baseball glove, a soccer goal and a footbal helmet. But it's hockey. He's being Cam Ward.

Becoming Grandparents

One of the many interesting things about becoming a parent has been watching my parents become grandparents. The transition appears to have been a fun one for them, but it's a joy for me, too.

Last weekend was our first beach trip with Nanna and PopPop since Pippi was born, which made it all the more wonderful to be there with them. I'd forgotten how exhausting it is to be at the beach with a sand-eating, shell-tasting, seaweed-sampling toddler who likes to wake up before sunrise (literally).

Even though it was supposed to be my parents' vacation, they happily took my two little crazies on bike rides around the island and walks on the beach, built sand-roads and sand-hockey arenas (no castles for Junius this year), shared watermelon and cooked meals. They snuggled and wrestled and raced and practiced yoga together. It must have been the most exhausting three days of vacation my parents ever had.

But no matter how much we must have worn them out, they were really enjoying their role as grandparents and beach playmates. When we left on Tuesday so that they could have the last part of the week to themselves, I actually believed my parents when they said they'd miss us.

Still, I think they'll somehow find a way -- between watching peacefully from their deck as the sun rises and sets over the sound -- to get by without us.

You want a piece of me?

Does it mean I'm getting old if, every time I go to the doctor, I leave something behind? Not my keys or my phone -- those I seem to remember. Instead, I keep having to abandon some small part of myself.

At first, it was just my dermatologist. She'd take one or two little slivers of skin each time I went to see her (which was every six months for the first two years). I'm rather fair-skinned and freckle-y -- that combined with some bad sunburns in my wild and crazy tanning youth makes me a prime candidate for regular skin checks. For several years, she'd take the sliver and call me a couple weeks later to say it was "all clear."

Then last summer I went in for my annual check and mentioned the spot in the middle of my forehead, which I assumed was a persistent pimple left from my pregnancy. I figured she'd give me a cream and send me on my way. Instead, she peered at my forehead and said, "Hmm. We'll need to biopsy that, but it looks like a carcinoma."

I'm sorry, did you just say "biopsy"? And isn't "carcinoma" a fancy word for "cancer"?

Long story short, it was in fact a basal cell carcinoma, which I later had removed by a Mohs skin surgeon who seemed startled to see someone young like me in her office. Once she cut out the layers of cancerous cells from beneath the pimple, I was "all clear" again. The small scar that stares back at me each morning is my reminder to put on sunscreen.

Now it turns out my dentist wants in on the action. When the hygienist noticed a red spot on my lower gum at my check-up last month, my dentist told me to watch it for a few weeks and call him if it wasn't gone. Probably nothing, he said, but keep an eye on it. A month later I was back in his office getting a referral to a periodontist.

Second long story short, the periodontist removed the spot -- probably nothing, he said, but let's biopsy it to be sure.

Ahem, "biopsy"? Again?!

He called on Friday to tell me it was inflammatory epithelial and fibrous hyperplasia. Also known as a pregnancy tumor. Which sounds scary, but actually means it's nothing but some "overgrowth" in my gums caused by the raging hormones of pregnancy and breastfeeding.

All clear.

Thank goodness there aren't any doctor appointments on my calendar until September.