OMG

I can't believe I skipped posting in February! Why? I think I had my head up my @#$@#$ to avoid complete and total visible melt-down. February rushed by me like a squirrel on crack - whatever that's like - I can only imagine. The kids were shuffled, fed and in-bed - while I spent many sleepless night agonizing over work, relationships, health, skin, etc.

I have come to the conclusion that we know life only in the present - because the future does not exist yet. So, I have a MARCH RESOLUTION. I will not waste a day in March. I will enjoy my little moments and have the second cup of coffee, drink the extra cups of water, enjoy the red wine, eat too much cheese and say the F-word out loud (a lot.) (Not in front of the kids :)

OK - so I do these things anyway - but in MARCH, I will not feel guilty about a single F@#$ing moment of it.

BTW - Francisco (the tormenting 9-yr old) had a lovely (ha) school project due in February. After an emotional tsunami (his, then mine) we produced a knight costume and a journal written in 1st person as if he were a knight. We spent hours searching maps, jousting tournaments and costumes on the internet. We learned about Uzbeks Turks (which he now says at least once daily.) I learned that Francisco particularly enjoyed the maps and we found a wonderful website with interactive tools that showed invasions and shifting boundaries. Umberto (the dramatic 5 year old) proved to be a natural ice-skater this month and learned to skate like a little pro in only a few hours on a back-yard ice rink. I, of course, couldn't watch. I had visions of concussions, blood and broken bones. A hockey Mom - I will never be. Oh! Canada. Arrgh.

When Mom is Down

Recently, I began a round of antibiotics that produced terrible side effects. Without being explicitly gross, let's just say that the water bill at my house will be tripled this month. With absolutely no energy and no desire to move from the reclining position, my household is struggling to maintain some sort of normalcy.

I have had a number of health issues over the years that have been set-backs in my life - and I haven't focused on my health - especially with exercise. Since the day that I had to stop running because of 'wrecked' knees, I never started anything else. I gave up. My mother told me that not paying attention to the signs and signals that my body gave me - would eventually come back to haunt me - and it has.

But I am absolutely determined to focus on my health this year. I may start small - with stretching - but I have to start. At 41, I cannot wait any longer - and neither can my boys.

The Mammogram

Yesterday, I went for my first Mammogram. I had 'put it off' for over a year now. I was simply afraid. The apprehension covered me like fog on a south Arkansas spring morning. After the typical rush to school - I arrived at the lab 30 minutes early. There was a line down the hall and every chair was occupied. The laboratory is in the basement of an old building, and as a designer, I know that it is over capacity. The warm carbon dioxide leaves me almost breathless, as I quickly exit the room to gasp for air on the street. At 9:30, I reluctantly walk down to the registration desk to give them my name. After a few moments of waiting, I am called to a little 2'X2' curtained cubicle to undress and gown. I wait to be called. After only a few moments that seem extraordinarily long, I am ushered down a dark corridor to a room with a huge gray machine. It has dim pink metal accents, but they are not comforting. The technician asks me to sit in a chair across the room. She stands approximately 12 feet away and quizzes my about my personal and family history. The personal history is brief, but the family history is a dissertation. After its completion, I am asked to stand in front of the machine, and align myself to a plastic tablet with center-line marks. My sister refers to this machine as the 'booby squishing' machine and has assured my that with my generous DDs that it won't be painful. I am docile as the technician holds my right breast, aligns it and places it on the tablet. She reaches for some soft of adjusting device and the breast is squeezed between two plates. The top plate is transparent. I am not thrilled that I can see my breast being squeezed and flattened like a hamburger patty being readied for a summertime grill. The uncomfortable 'factor' is more from the stretching of the skin and the pulling of the tissue. It is slightly painful, but the experience is devoid of dignity. I imagine that if there is a medical test that requires a man's penis to be flattened like a roll of sugar cookie dough - it would be a short lived medical device. Yet, here I am standing in a cold, clinical room with my breasts trapped in the booby squashing device - just as my fellow females have for decades. I think of Ellen Kay, my cousin, battling breast cancer - who has a cheerful optimism like sunshine. I think of her mother, Ernestine, who lost her battle to breast cancer so long ago. I think of my Grandmother, who was diagnosed early on and survived. I think of my cousin, Cecile, who's breast cancer was discovered in stage 4. Her body was overcome with tumors. I think of my vivacious sister, Pam, who's doctor just reported her mammogram as abnormal. She awaits an ultrasound. I am diminished. And I wait.

Welcome 2010!

Happy New Year Everyone!

The last five weeks have been like the center of a hurricane. We rushed into a vacation before Christmas holiday with a cruise to the Caribbean. Sounds like a great idea, right? The cruise was super cheap, so we thought it was the perfect way to have some family time together and relax. Little did we know that there is a reason why cruises from NYC are super cheap during the winter. Let's just say that I am thankful for Dramamine. However, Dramamine does little good when there are 20 ft swells and 50 MPH winds! I can sum up the cruise with one word: VOMIT.

OK - let me get past the super gross stuff. The holidays were good. God answered my prayer for no snow and for the first time since I moved to Toronto, we had a barren Christmas. Woo Hoo! I did marathon shopping, marathon wrapping (thanks to dear friend Christina) and marathon clean-up. I even got one BIG CHORE done when I cleaned out the kitchen cupboards and the fridge. We squeezed in two movies: Squeakuel and Nine. Both were slightly disappointing, but who cares? I had a moment's peace and quiet and a big bag of popcorn.

During the holiday parties, I was thoroughly entertained watching friends get inebriated and make ridiculous comments. But, I missed my friends from work and I missed my 'own' family, i.e, sister, nephews and sister-in-law. And I dreamed about my parents - strange long, twisted dreams of conversations that never happened. The past five weeks flew by with record speed and the elapsed time made me year for days sitting under a tree in the warm Arkansas spring - where time slows an indiscernible pace.

Speaking of dreams, last night I dreamed that I met the Pope at a VIP party in a large elevator in Houston. My date was a cowboy who was afraid that he wasn't dressed up enough. I entered the party on the 89 floor of a tower and impressed the Pope because I was the only one who could make the sign of the cross. During the party, I made an astute comment about football (like that could ever happen!) and was disturbed that the Pope seemed to 'take a liking' to a glamorous guest in a long yellow gown. I was happy to get the SWAG bag, which contained a saffron colored silk Sari, which they were giving away to promote the South Asian community. Crazy right? I am usually really good at analyzing dreams, but that one takes the cake!

Tomorrow begins the 'routine' of school for the boys and work for me. I use the word 'routine' loosely, because my life is anything but repetitive. Repetition is not for me. I live on the edge of reason - but I like it that way.