Good News, Bad News

It's been a roller coaster week. After many, many trips to the vet we have received the worst diagnosis possible for our wonderful 10 year old Fred. Cancer. He's losing weight like crazy, down to about 9 lbs or less from his starting point of 16 (he's a Maine Coon and they are big, muscular kitties) and still losing. At this point, there is nothing we can do but give him a lot of love and attention, making him as comfortable as possible and hopefully having him through the holidays. He's the greatest kitty and we are having a hard time imagining our family without him.

In the midst of all the vet visits, we are busy getting ready for the holidays. We are happy that Erica is able to swap hours with someone at her two jobs so she can come home for Thanksgiving. It won't be much time - she'll arrive at about midnight on Wednesday and have to head back after dinner on Thursday - but we will take what we can get and be happy that we'll have some fun time together. We'll have enough time to play some wild rounds of Tripoly or Uno Attack with the holiday music blaring.

Kevin's high school band program has kept us hopping and, happily, their efforts have paid off for them in a big way. This last Saturday they competed at the State level against 32 other high schools. They took 2nd place in their division (seven schools), but took the High Music Award for the entire event. Woohoo!!!!! I think it teaches the kids how much they can accomplish as a team and with practice. They are back at it today (on a school holiday) as they prepare for another field show competition in two weeks.

This all has me thinking about how much my parents missed. I remember Christmas as a child. We hung stockings one year. One. Mom suggested we wedge the edge of one of our knee-high socks in the top drawer of the buffet in the dining room. It was all very unceremonious. I recall there were a few goodies in it (I still remember the plastic flute and the Fred Flintsone toy where I pushed up on the bottom of it and he flopped around with his elasticized limbs), but she didn't think it was worth the effort to continue the practice. We never had Christmas stockings again.

As a family, we watch "A Christmas Story" every year while we decorate our tree. I think about the scene where the kids are opening presents and the dad had acquired the beloved BB gun for his son, hidden it away until last, and watched him open the gift and lose his mind from happiness. Hmmm. I wonder what that would have been like? I think about the Christmas programs in which I participated in school, including a solo in 8th grade, none of which were attended by my parents. I remember my best friend Michelle sharing her dad with me at the Father Daughter Girl Scout banquet, and how I felt so embarrassed that my father was the only one missing. He wasn't there simply because he wasn't interested and didn't care.

I have been to every single one of my children's performances at daycare and school. When I was hired at the hospital, I made sure that they understood that I HAD to be at every school event and would get back to the office as quickly as possible, but it wasn't an option. They were great and always accommodating. I sat through the same Christmas program year after year for my daughter and went because I wanted to be there and loved watching her, not out of a sense of obligation. I have attended every single field show for my son in marching band and he's happy to have me there. That's the best reason. I appreciate my children more, I think, because of how little my parents appreciated me. I watch them and wonder if my parents ever realized how much they missed, how much fun they could have had, or how much their neglect would cause me heartache for my entire life.

In the meantime, I relish the holidays, the fun we have together, and the fact that my children really want to be home with us for the holidays. Even with bad news like Fred's diagnosis, we can focus on the fact that we will be together and make sure that Fred has an extra special Christmas stocking this year.

Games People Play

As a family, we are a little nuts with our passion for playing "Slug Bug." We have learned that, for those who play, there is a wide range of rules and most everyone is pretty firm about their rules being "right." In our home, only the old Volkswagens count. As a former bug owner, I am quite firm in my opinion that the newer bugs have their engines at the wrong end, making them useless and ineligible for points. We call the buses or vans, "super slug bug" (my friend Gail calls them "Grand Daddy" bugs, and I found a web site where someone said they yell, "double slugbug") for which one earns two points; the beetles are worth one. We change the rules sometimes, but only if we agree before the game starts. Having recently discovered "Lost," we now have the "Dharma bug." That's a super slug bug that is the original faded light blue and white two-tone and it's worth three points. If we yell, "Dharma bug!" we get three points, but if we mess up and just yell, "super slugbug," we only get the regular two points. The game runs for only as long as that trip in the car. If we stop the car and get out, the game is over. And we don't hit each other! Family rule!

The thing that's so funny and got me thinking about this is that I can't refrain from playing all by myself in my head when I'm alone in the car. Kevin's friends think it's funny that when I'm playing carpool mom and driving everyone home after school that wanted a ride, I'll interrupt anyone, myself included, to yell, "Slugbug!" if I spot on en route. I absolutely vibrate and hyperventilate when I see one of those old Volkswagen graveyards and have to count on my fingers and I scream out all of my "slugbug" and "superslugbug" calls while the family just howls and laughs at me. Hey, I win! What else matters? :-)

There are some really, truly simple things in life that can't be beat for a good chuckle.

Proud Mom Moment

My son came home from school yesterday upset about an incident that involved a classmate trying to push him to buy drugs. Today the school intervened, discovered drugs on the boy and expelled him from school. I was proud and relieved that Kevin felt he could talk to me, happy that he reacted by letting me know what happened instead of, as many kids do, taking the drugs and giving them a try. As a parent, we hope and pray that the things we tell our children really sink in and that they listen. More importantly, I hoped that I had instilled in my children the morals about which I feel so strongly and today my son proved that I have done alright as a mother.

My rules for life are simple. Do the right thing. Don't lie. If someone gives you too much money in change, give the extra back. Be a good friend. Appreciate your friends. Don't take what you have for granted. Be generous and give for the sake of giving, not because you expect anything in return. Be grateful for every little thing, not just big stuff. Tell the people you love that you love them often. Don't complain so much! Tell people the good things you think about them - everyone wants to hear the good things. Be a good companion. Hold the door open for others. Life is good when we are good people.

My son is a good person. My daughter is a good person. What more could a mom ask for?

Staying Positive

A couple of months ago I saw Jenny McCarthy in an interview where she talked about the fact that they don't watch the news in their home because it's just bad. Not that being informed is bad, but that the local "news" tends to be just a lot of ugliness, gossip, and certainly not "need to know" kind of stuff. I was just getting my car repaired and listened to the absolute blithering for an hour by newscasters about a local brush fire. The fact that there is a fire by the freeway and providing information about any evacuation or road closure is critical, but that's not what they were doing. They were asking anyone who lived in the area to call, tell "us" what they're seeing (even though the news helicopters were broadcasting a live picture), talk about what they, personally, had packed up if they needed to evacuate...absolutely idiotic banter with no useful information. Not once did they mention the portion of the freeway that was closed. Earlier today, I saw a news bulletin about a shooting in L.A. with SWAT team members trying to end the encounter. Of course the news is broadcasting a live image of all the SWAT guys on the roof tops, showing their location (complete with shots of the street signs), while stating that they wanted to be careful and not give the bad guys any information about where the SWAT team was positioned. OMG. What idiots.

When I got home this afternoon, I don't know what possessed me to turn on the tv. I had been stressed from the window falling in my car door while at the grocery store (thank goodness I could get it repaired in the hour that I was listening to the newscasters blither) and wanted to relax. As I flipped through the channels, I paid attention to how many really depraved, negative and just ugly programs are on TV. There were reality shows about people hiring private investigators to catch their cheating spouses, shows like Bridezillas that promote the most revolting of bad manners and language, shows like Maury where hundreds of women every year are seeking to find out who the fathers of their children are (and I do mean that plurally - it's gross). How can anyone maintain a positive attitude in life watching all of this horrible nastiness?

Today I'm making a pledge to not watch any more of that kind of television. I find that when I turn it off and turn on music or put on a light hearted program, I'm in a much better mood. There are so many ways to be entertained and informed in a positive way. It is hard to imagine that constant exposure to this depravity has no impact on the people who watch. I'm going to ask the family to join me in turning off and turning away from the negative stuff and see if it doesn't help us stay in a more positive frame of mind. It couldn't hurt!

Life is good

OK, I got over the fuss of having my husband buying my artwork at the auction. He's been coming home telling me about the comments he's received. At first, I cringe when he says that someone commented. But all the comments have been positive. Not that someone would crap on the boss's wife's artwork ;-)

Yesterday was my birthday. It was odd to be alone all day. I miss birthdays at the office when everyone made a fuss, my husband sent the most gorgeous flowers that made everyone jealous (he sent even more gorgeous flowers this year, but there's no one but me to enjoy them - I love them anyway!), and we always had silly decorations or went out to lunch together. I had a lot of time to reflect on life. A dear friend called to wish me happy birthday and ended up sharing a lot of personal struggles she's wrestling with. I wish I'd had something profound to say to make her feel better. It put my own fussing in perspective and helped me appreciate the things that go well every day.

My son was very thoughtful and wanted to get a gift that was related to my artwork. My husband knew that I'd been resisting working on more clay projects because I just have a hard time working the clay by hand (my fingers are getting older than the rest of me) and the manual pasta roller I have is a dilapidated piece of junk. He did a lot of research, unbeknownst to me, and conspired with my son to give me a pasta roller attachment for the big Kitchenaid mixer in the kitchen. It was funny - when I opened the package and saw what it was, all I could think of was the fact that my son hates pasta. He also got me a wooden rack for draping the fresh pasta as well, making me even more confused. I guess I wasn't hiding it well and my husband told me that he'd read a lot of comments by artists on the internet about how they used this attachment just for their clay and found the wooden draping gizmo to be very helpful in terms of where to put their sheets of clay. What a thoughtful bunch! He doesn't have time to blink these days, but took the time (as non-techie as he is) to do the research. I am in a much better position to get started on another art doll with a mechanical means of conditioning the clay. Yeah!

As a charming end to my birthday, Kevin announced as he was about to go to bed, "Oh yeah, I get to give you 49 whacks!" and we proceeded to have the most hysterically funny ten minutes of running around the house and whooping each other until he felt he got to 49 (with some very creative counting and after I got in a few tweaks myself).

Now all I have to do is get through Halloween with a houseful of teenagers carving pumpkins, eating pizza and watching a dreadful horror movie while I cower in another room. I wonder how many pounds of pumpkin seeds are going to be tossed during the feisty seed fight that I'm sure is going to take place. Argh. :-)

My daughter wasn't able to come home for my birthday, and told us that she lost the draw for time off for Thanksgiving and Christmas as well. It has begun. She's been on her own for a while, but we've always managed to do something like have Thanksgiving on Friday or have her drive up on Christmas morning. As long as we were together, it didn't matter when. I laughed at her last year when she asked me to take a photo of her with her cell phone while she tore into a big turkey leg. She sent it to her vegetarian boyfriend with a caption that read something along the lines of, "MEAT!!!" I know that the time will come when she will have her own family and start her own traditions that won't include coming home. Kevin is in high school now, so we know time is growing shorter with him as well. Thank heavens I have my art to keep me busy. I think I'll be taking a million classes when he's gone, although right now he says, "What do you mean leave and live on my own? You guys are awesome!" :-) What a cutie. I'll enjoy what I can get.

What was the point?

I was so proud of myself contributing two pieces of my artwork to the Boys & Girls Club auction event this past weekend. This is the favorite of all of the art dolls I've made. Showing my work in public and having my name on it was really, really hard for me. However, my husband, in his effort to make me feel good, decided he was going to bid on the work so that he could buy one or both pieces for his display in his office. I didn't even get the chance to see if there was any interest or what others may have felt was a reasonable bid for the artwork of someone they didn't know. All I know is that he made high enough bids that he "won" both pieces. I don't even know if there was a single bid on either piece.

He just didn't get it. How does one sigh on ones blog?

Inspiration requires waterproof mascara

Inspired to try something new after watching a show about artists, I wandered into our local (and usually sadly lacking) fabric & craft store. I found a few books that I thought would encourage exploring materials I don't usually work with and figured, what the heck, they would be good reading while I sat waiting (and waiting and waiting) in the car to pick up Kevin after school. I can't say I've ever been moved by an art or craft book to the point of tears, but I was - twice in two days - with the book, "Taking Flight" by Kelly Rae Roberts. She wrote in my voice, articulating my thoughts and fears and worries, but also encouraged pushing to get beyond those things that hold us back. I must admit that this is the first time I've ever read one of my art books from cover to cover. I cried in the car (thank goodness for dark sunglasses), and then got weepy again this morning as I read. The realization that I'm not alone in these very specific fears gave me a sense of inspiration that I have not experienced before. I totally related to her expression of fear of producing art that people might not like, or that they might not want to buy. I have a real fear of others thinking that I've got real nerve putting a dollar figure on my work because it's not worthy. I am nervous about attending a class or workshop, worried that I'll be the only person in the room with no ideas, I won't know anyone, will feel like a dork sitting by myself at lunch - all the silly stuff that we experience in junior high! Kelly made specific suggestions to get past all of this, including online groups and getting up the courage to attend classes and workshops. While I've asked my friend Amy, and will ask Susie M, to attend as well, I am determined to break out and go whether it's with friends there or alone. Truthfully, it would be more fun with friends (especially because the courses all teach stuff outside of all our areas of experience), but I think I'll have tons of fun anyway.

I owe Kelly Rae Roberts a big, fat thank you.