B.A.U.A.C.P.W.L.C (no really you need to read)

Many days I wonder where my children came from. Often people will suggest that they are a mix between Mike and I. Maybe so, but I also know that they come with special, quirky personalities all of their own.

Case in point:
My 10 year old daughter is a weirdo. She is beautiful, smart, does a mean robot, and totally in her own world. She wants to be a baker. Yes, I know, nothing sounds quirky or weird about it except she has been developing her own business plan, ON HER OWN. Today she brought me an application that she made for her potential employees.
Let's get started.
The name of her company is B.A.U.A.C.P.W.L.C. which of course stands for "Bakery Association of Underestimated Amazingly Cool People Who Love Chocolate"....obviously.

If any of you reading this, want to apply they will have to complete the following application. Lets get started.

1. Do you want to join the B.A.U.A.C.P.W.L.C?
2. Are you fit to be a baker?
   a) YES
   b) NO :(
   c) Maybe So
   d) I really don't know
3. Are you an underestimated cool person? Why?
4. Do you LOVE chocolate?
   a) YES!!! How dare you even ask!
   b) yah it's ok I guess
   c) No! Never!
5. Can you complete this application?
6. Are you good with computers?
7. Are you great on the phone?
8. Do you have any recipes you want to share?
9. Do you like making friends?
   a) Yes I love everyone
   b) Eh...ok
   c) I HATE THE WORLD! NO!
10. Are you good at cleaning up your space when you are done? Rate yourself 1-10
11. Are you good with the business, economy, money, etc?
12. What mood are you in today? Draw  :) if happy,  :(  if sad,  :<< if frustrated, and ? if none of the options fit you.
13. You are almost done. I want you to draw a picture of anything you want. Just make it good. (the best)


So really, I may have had a little influence on my daughter's personality but the above exercise was all her.
I think she is ready for her new business.

Love Notes.......

I remember a period in my life from the age of 5 to around 21 that I was always deeply in love. Yes, I was that girl. So, when my 12 year old son started to have a crush of his own, I felt his pain.
He has always had a small crush on one girl in his class each year. Only he and his mother knew of his crush each year.
Until now.
This year it is a little different, he has upped the ante. Not only has he developed a crush, he has written love notes, the first one anonymous and the most recent one he actually signed his name. It is fun to watch the poetic side of my 12 year old come out as he is trying to impress his new crush. Just to let you know, this 12 yr old boy is the sweetest thing, so to him, this day, must be love.

WARNING: Before reading the following love notes, be aware that my 12 year old son is DEEPLY into GREEK MYTHOLOGY.

Love Note #1

Dear Melanie,
You are as sweet as Greek honeycakes. If I were a god and I was immortal I would make you immortal so we could be together. If you were Medusa I would still date you. You are as beautiful as Aphrodite.
Love,
GM (greek myth)

Before I start love note #2 I have to say that I did not let him deliver this note, we talked about being friends and about giving each other space.

Love Note #2

Dear Melanie,
If I were a slave and you my master, I would do whatever you say, even if it means death. If I were Alexander and you the Persian princess, named Roxanne, I would marry you on the spot. If I were Perseus and you Medusa, I would rather die a bloody death by the Kraken than chop off your head. I would do whatever it takes to tickle your heart until death falls upon  us.
Love,
(his name)

These may seem a little serious, but with his love of Greek myths and tragedies, what other frame of reference does he have for love? (I guess other than my husband and I, but we are not nearly this dramatic)

It is so funny to look back and think of those major crushes. The very excitement you feel as you are going through young adulthood, just how serious and eternal they seem. How watching your crush laugh and giggle without knowing what is in your heart. 

Soul Mates

A little over 13 years ago just 2 months before my husband and I were married, we adopted our first child. She was the runt of the litter, a beautiful chocolate color, and had a tail that never stopped wagging.

Our chocolate lab Roxy has been with us for every move, every new home, every child's birth. She was very annoyed by each new dog we added to our home, but ultimately invited and mothered each of them as well.

After 13 years, she died yesterday. She no longer could use her back legs and had gone as long as she could. In the early morning, just before Mike took her to the vet, the children loved her, took pictures and said goodbye. Although my brain knew her time had come, my heart was broken. My very husband, who in the past was unable to show emotion, cried the entire time he dug her grave in the back yard.

As I watched her carried from the truck to the grave, it was clear that her spirit had left her body. Watching her laid gently in the ground, wrapped in her rose printed sheet, still wearing her pink rhinestone collar, was almost unbearable.

The children and I found comfort in knowing that she would be in heaven, wagging her tail, smiling at those that need comfort and begging for hot dogs from those that she knew would give in to her powers. She was our first addition to our family and will always be with us. It is amazing to me how these sweet creatures touch our hearts. We love you Roxy.

Lessons from Roxy:

Show joy and happiness each day.
Love those around you.

Happiness can be found in a great meal, family, and a good scratch.

Never trust those that don't like dogs.

I did it for a girl.

I have an eleven year old boy. He struggles with his weight. He is 5'6", 170 lbs, size 11 men's shoe and just finished the 5th grade. I have tried not to make him feel self conscious, but we do try to limit mindless snacking and my husband and I have been waking early with him to do workouts, bike rides, "Just Dance 2", whatever we feel like doing to get some exercise. Shamefully I must say that sometimes he wakes himself and works out on his own when I am too tired to move. So, before we started this regimen every morning, we were doing it occasionally (we now are more diligent). But, one morning I woke to what sounded like elephants in the living room. My 11 yr old was dancing away to "Rasputin". Note: I had not heard this song until the Just Dance video game provided it as one of the selections. The song is disco and sings words to the effect of "Ra-Ra-Rasputin, lover of the Russian queen, there was a cat that really was gone. Ra-Ra-Rasputin Russia's greatest love machine, it was a shame how he carried on..." I know, so wrong, yet so right.
Back to the story, so there he is dancing his little heart out. I smile at him and start breakfast. Later that day after school, my son tells me that he has decided to work out for "personal reasons". But he also gives me look like he would like to tell me more. So, I ask him what "personal reasons" means and he states to me that he can tell me when his father, little sister and little brother are out of the room. I then ask them to leave.
Once we were alone my son says that he "did it for a girl". He wanted to work out for a girl. I ask him if she knows he likes her. He tells me that he told her after school that he "likes, likes her". I asked what she said back and he said that she said "thanks",  he said "but in a nice way, not like a snotty thanks".
So, he has decided to turn himself into a workout fool, dancing to tale of Rasputin, for the love of his life that he intends to play Magic cards with later.
To be 11again. 

I was 26 and I had the best cancer.

Unfortunately in today's world, we all compete. We even compete in the sickest of ways. "You are on Prozac, that is nothing, they give me _______ (fill it in) which is inevitably worse than your Prozac." "Oh, you had a finger amputated, I lost an entire leg and I live with the pain everyday."

Since I am not innocent or immune to this weird phenomenon, I will start this blog out with "I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer" (this was told to me to be the best kind of cancer to have, extremely low mortality rate).

So for the many of you that endured more, I am sorry. I wish I could of been there beside you. I am however going to tell a little bit of my story.

I was 26, I had two boys at the time of my diagnosis ages 3 and 1. My thyroid tests had all come up normal but I was still exhausted and couldn't lose any weight.  I went into the doctor and he was busy so the office provided me with the services of his nurse practitioner. She listened to my symptoms, saw my "normal" blood tests and then did a physical exam. She felt the lymph nodes in my neck which were mildly swollen but not tender, and then she stopped. Took a small breath and told me that I had a lump. She continued to inform me that this may be many different things and that I should see a doctor when I returned back home. (Did I mention I was visiting my mother at the time)

Because of the lack of excitement, I didn't worry. However, I was surprised that I didn't know the lump was there, but once pointed out to me, seemed so obvious.
I returned home and made an appointment with a surgeon who did a biopsy. He looked at the biopsy in his clinic and then said we had to send it out for testing. Not even an hour later I was informed that the lump was indeed cancer, very slow growing and the best kind of cancer to have. From that statement I decided I would not worry, cry or get excited. This cancer was not a big deal and it was the "best kind of cancer" to have. I am not going to die. I need to get over it.
I go home call my mother, of course she cries, tell my best friend, again crying, tell my husband, he shows absolutely no emotion and all the while I am thinking to myself, "What the hell is wrong with these people, it is the best kind of cancer."
Surgery was scheduled and more testing was done. I then learned all I could about the different kinds of thyroid cancer. There are a couple that are very common and two others that are significantly more rare and tougher to treat. I am going to rate them from 1-4, 1 being the best kind, 4 being the worst. My first call about the biopsy had stated that the cancer was #1, the next call was, we made a mistake, it is #2. This is fine, these are totally common, I thought to myself.
They rolled me into the surgical room early in the morning. My husband had a final that day (oh did I tell you we were still in college?) and would run over to the hospital as soon as it was done. A few weeks had passed by from diagnosiss to the surgery and my hubby still had no emotion over the entire event. I told him to study for his final, this is the "best kind" of cancer, and I will be fine.
I wake up from surgery, my best friend at my bedside with pictures from her wedding a few months before. We thumbed through pictures, made small talk and she seemed to get teary occasionally, but mostly we pretended that all was well. I asked her about Mike, my husband. Did he get back from his final? She said he did, but has be strolling the lobby and the halls like a zombie. He still had no emotion and couldn't form coherent sentences.
Weeks after the surgery another biopsy came back of the thyroid gland and two lymph nodes. One node had cancer as did the thyroid, the thyroid despite testing normal was completely diseased, Hashimotos, and the tumor was no longer the second best kind of thyroid cancer but it was #3, the third worst. This kind of tumor does not react to radiation or chemo, so if the surgery got the entire tumor, I would not need either of those things, if the tumor had spread past the lymph nodes, we would just have to chase it and cut it out. Yay.....

6 weeks after my surgery I was pregnant with my third child, not quite ready, I had a little of a melt down.
During that melt down, I realized I couldn't stop crying. I started evaluating my recent events and realized that I never allowed myself to get scared, worried or cry about my ordeal. And because it was "the best kind" I never felt that I had the right to blow it out of proportion. But there was no stopping the worry, angst and fear forever, it finally came. It didn't matter if it was the best or the worst kind of cancer, it was cancer just the same and emotions and realizations had to come along with the diagnosis, if I liked it or not.
I am 7 years clear of cancer and I am sure that it was one of the simplest of cancer cases, but I still had to allow myself to feel it. As my idiotic radiologist said, it might be the big "C".
So, as I wrap up this memory, I want to tell all those that may read this, allow yourself to feel. Whether it is depression, or bankruptcy, or cancer or fear. As hard as you try to stay strong, there is a time you have to allow your self to feel as well.
As for all doctors out there, please don't use the term Big "C" or the "best kind", don't sugar coat, just address the issue so we ( the patient ) can properly address the issue as well.
Lastly, allow those men in your life to handle and cope how they can, Mike never shed a tear but did morph into a zombie of a sort. That was ok, that was how he needed to deal. He taught the three yr old to make sandwiches so he could have something when I wasn't feeling well. I can not forget to love those that love me, even if I am confused on how they show it. Life is definitely too short.

Hare Krishna Festival of colors of 2011

What a fun time we had. Family and I are in Utah visiting extended family and doing some work stuff. My beautiful cousin called and had a fun activity for us to do together. The Hare Krishna Festival. No, we weren't required to chant, although the mixtures of rock music and chanting were interesting. There were thousands of attendees covered in multi color chalk, dancing, singing.
But, the most fun was to see my own children unwind. Making friends with other chalk colors.

OK I will explain. The festival celebrates the triumph of good over bad with music, chanting and dancing.
"It's a festival of love where people can come and love each other face to face and that's why it's so popular," said festival coordinator Charu Das.

Every two hours, there is a countdown where everyone, when reaching that all so common, 3,2,1.....throw all colors of chalk  in the air. People are cheering and dancing. The cloud of chalk is like a rainbow dream. There was no drinking, which to some would be a disappointment, but with thousands in attendance, we were still able to bring our children.

We purchased our chalk in the pavilion, we did not get to pick our colors, so we had two different pinks, and yellow to throw in the air and at each other. Unfortunately, everything I do needs to be pretty, although pretty is relative when you are trotting around in the mud and covered in chalk, but you could be prettier and have the "right" colors thrown on you. So what did I do, I collected colors. Those walking by that had green, purple or orange, I would throw my chalk on them and they would reciprocate. So there I am, eyeing each passerby to ascertain their "color". Only I can take a festival of happiness and joy and turn it into a sting operation. Nevertheless this was such a fun day to spend with the family. Enjoy the pictures...