Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!
November 22, 2012
Stuffed
Here's proof that even without a turkey dinner, one can pass out after a Thanksgiving Day meal.
November 18, 2012
Worms & Dirt & Trucks
When you're nearly four and your mama approaches you with regard to planning your birthday party, you speak from the heart. 'What kind of a birthday party do you want to have this year, Channing?' After weeks of going round and round and round, this question finally started getting a consistent answer. Worms & dirt & trucks.
He asked. We delivered. Party prep started in earnest on Thursday, the day of the week our family now refers to as Leanne Day. Thursday afternoon, Leo gets loved on by Grandma Fran while Leanne gives more than generously of her time and her spirit. This week, Sarah & Haley joined us too. We chopped, stirred, whipped, printed, packed and taped our way through the better part of the afternoon while Grandma Meredith flitted in and out helping with kitchen duties as needy babies allowed. By afternoon's end, we'd prepped ingredients for Cincinnati chili, baked both corn muffins and a chocolate cake that contained an entire pound of butter and bagged up worms, dirt and trucks for tiny party guests to take home.
Saturday didn't disappoint. The birthday boy and his guests thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
The cake was deemed a tremendous hit. The last of the guests didn't leave until just before Davanni's delivered pizza and hoagies for dinner.
Today, play time began in earnest, each new book and toy carefully inspected by Channing and played with in turn. So far, the favorite seems to be the green goo given to him by Libby & Kendra. We weren't brave enough to fill the bath tub with it. Instead, the popcorn bowl became it's home.
There was goo up to his armpits. Buzz Lightyear, Woody and a blue dinosaur got sucked into the mire time and time again. Channing was utterly delighted. It's nearing bedtime as I type. He's already asked if he can play with the goo before he goes to school in the morning. I guarantee he'll ask to play with it 'for just two minutes...pretty please?' before he even sits down to breakfast.
Four. It's good to turn four. With worms & dirt & trucks.
He asked. We delivered. Party prep started in earnest on Thursday, the day of the week our family now refers to as Leanne Day. Thursday afternoon, Leo gets loved on by Grandma Fran while Leanne gives more than generously of her time and her spirit. This week, Sarah & Haley joined us too. We chopped, stirred, whipped, printed, packed and taped our way through the better part of the afternoon while Grandma Meredith flitted in and out helping with kitchen duties as needy babies allowed. By afternoon's end, we'd prepped ingredients for Cincinnati chili, baked both corn muffins and a chocolate cake that contained an entire pound of butter and bagged up worms, dirt and trucks for tiny party guests to take home.
Saturday didn't disappoint. The birthday boy and his guests thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
The cake was deemed a tremendous hit. The last of the guests didn't leave until just before Davanni's delivered pizza and hoagies for dinner.
Today, play time began in earnest, each new book and toy carefully inspected by Channing and played with in turn. So far, the favorite seems to be the green goo given to him by Libby & Kendra. We weren't brave enough to fill the bath tub with it. Instead, the popcorn bowl became it's home.
There was goo up to his armpits. Buzz Lightyear, Woody and a blue dinosaur got sucked into the mire time and time again. Channing was utterly delighted. It's nearing bedtime as I type. He's already asked if he can play with the goo before he goes to school in the morning. I guarantee he'll ask to play with it 'for just two minutes...pretty please?' before he even sits down to breakfast.
Four. It's good to turn four. With worms & dirt & trucks.
November 15, 2012
Four
My intention when this post started writing itself in my head was to share my favorite Channing quotes from his third year. Some of them were humdingers. Take for example our trip to FL in March during which Channing expressed his concern for WM's well being.
We walked into our hotel room. Channing took one look at the single king-size bed in the room, looked at me and asked, 'Where's Daddy going to sleep?'
On the same trip, he took to giving fair warning. His delivery was like no other. 'Mom, I love you, but I'm going to be naughty now.'
Kids, as I'm sure you know, say the darndest things. However, a picture still says a thousand words. So, here's another 13,000 words, give or take a few to round out this post.
This is how the year began. Into the green chair he went for the traditional picture, a place we'd been so many times before to mark the passing of time. He was more pliable than not, agreeing to the pictures, to what I asked him to wear and smiling a genuine smile.
December and the magic of the holiday season was exponentially more magical. Channing, being old enough to 'get it' was in awe of everything Christmas. Everything. Right down to the last shimmering light.
Swimming lessons, started in September, continued into January and right through those coldest, snowiest months. The heat and humidity of the local pool was a welcome reprieve from what Mother Nature provided us.
Come February, we came to the realization that winter citrus was often best enjoyed as a toy rather than a food, or more often as a toy first and then food. Orange goggles, an age appropriate alternative to beer goggles.
March allowed for a winter escape complete with the crunch of snow, something that eluded us at home. Channing still talks of this weekend, how we arrived to thigh-deep snow in the middle of the night. It was to him 'the best adventure in the whole wide world.'
Even in need of a spruce up, this kid's cute. Very cute. I'm not completely biased either. Those brown eyes melt this mama time and time again. He knows it too.
Gertens beckoned in May. We took both grandmas with us to shop for plants to spruce up the porch. These purple petunias passed the 'do they hide me well enough to make monster faces and to jump out and rawr people' test with flying colors.
June = bubble machine. Channing's obsession.
The heat of July often kept us (me being VERY pregnant at this point) indoors and gave perfect reason for Chef Channing to don his hat and to lend a hand in the kitchen i.e. eat sugar out of the canister by the spoonful.
August passed in a blur of muddy red boots, shovels and dirt as the quest for toads and worms seemed unending. He'd still be out there right now if we'd have left him to his own devices.
September brought new life into our household, something readily and totally embraced by big brother Channing. The boys practiced their wrestling moves on the first day Max was home from the hospital. It hasn't stopped. I wouldn't have it any other way.
See...this is one proud big brother. I was trying to take a one month picture of Max. Channing kept creeping in. I'll remind him of this in another three years when he absolutely refuses to let me take his picture. Let's be realistic. That day is coming.
We've come full circle. This time, I was not allowed to pick out the clothes. I couldn't even hint at what I'd have grabbed from the dresser drawers. He was little Mr. Independent. I'm beyond excited to see what this year brings. Beyond excited. Each year, I think 'this is my favorite age' then the next comes along and I like it even better.
Happy birthday, Walter Channing Flynn. You are SO loved.
November 5, 2012
Red Umbrella-Wavering
I try, with this blog, to hold myself to my blog promises. To follow up with posts that I say I will write soon. I made one of those promises to myself and to you with regard to my surgery and a post-surgery update. It isn't easy to put it all into words, the highs and the lows, the elation and the fears, the known and the unknown. It's taken far too long to sit down in front of the computer to put it into words. I need to get this post behind me.
Where to start...
The surgery was deemed a success. My breast tissue was removed. The old scar from my lumpectomy was excised. To see if the cancer had spread, my sentinel lymph nodes (the first one out from each breast) were removed along with several more on my left and cancerous side. As I opted for reconstruction, expanders were placed under my pectoral muscles in preparation for stretching muscle and skin to accommodate permanent implants down the road.
The pain is not nearly as bad as I anticipated. I braced myself for the worst. It was tolerable right from the get-go. That was a pleasant and very welcome surprise.
What was not pleasant or welcome was the recurrence of cancer in the original site. A 6 cm mass was found, and while not solid cancer, it was back. Yes, lumps had reappeared both during chemo and in the months that followed. Each time, radiologists examined the lumps and declared them benign.
I still feel sick at the thought of WM and my parents being ushered from the waiting room into a consultation room, my surgeon ready to deliver the crushing blow. He knew what was coming. We'd been here many times before with little Sophie and I, for the first time, was not there to hold his hand and wipe away the tears all the while whispering and crooning, 'It's OK. We're strong & we'll get through this.' I am so sorry, Love. So very sorry. Since then, there have been scans and consultations and a change in oncologists. Each time, the plan changes a little bit more.
The PET scan last week was negative in all the normal places breast cancer would spread to. However, there was one odd spot that lit up on my neck near my thyroid. A CT will be done tomorrow to investigate that further. What could it be? Well, at this point, that is unknown. Yes, the aforementioned unknowns... I have a special loathing for both the 'unknowns' and the 'wait and sees'. It's a hatred like no other.
My plastic surgeon feels I'm doing 'remarkably well.' The incisions are healing as they should be. He has actually allowed me to lift slightly more than the prescribed 10 pound limit, something that lifts this troubled mama's heart. It means I can pick up and hold Maxwell on my own. I return to his office Thursday to have the drains removed and to receive my first fill.
My oncologist has a new plan, one that involves both systemic and localized treatment. It begins with 12 weeks of Taxol. Yes, I'll be back in the infusion suite every Friday from November 9 through January 25. UGH. Chemo. (If there is a plus side to this, it's that my cancer is very fast growing and chemo has been shown to be more effective on the fast growing cancer than on the slow growing cancer.) The idea behind more chemo is to destroy every last little bit of cancer that could possibly be hiding in my body. While the PET didn't show any, there could still be micro mets lurking in a dark corner. This should take care of them. Following chemo, will be radiation to target the area that was specifically affected. And, as my cancer is hormone fed (estrogen positive), measures will be taken to suppress my estrogen production. Let's not feed the beast, right? Tamoxifen will be prescribed. Perhaps there will be shots given to shut down my ovaries. Perhaps they will be removed altogether. That part of the plan has not been settled upon yet.
My boobs. Well, I affectionately call them my Frankenboobs now. There are three inch wide incisions right in the middle of each one. They are bloody and covered in steri-strips. If you think having your nipples show through your shirt is embarrassing, try these. It looks like I have caterpillars in my bra. No joke. One day, I will show you. Yes, I feel it is important. Look at The Scar Project. Please click on those words. Yes, click on over to that link. Just don't forget to come back and finish reading my post.
That's the why and the how.
I waver between fierce determination that I can do this again and that we'll get it right this time and wondering who I pissed off or why our family can't seem to catch a break. I hug my kids a little tighter and kiss them with even more frequency. My patience has grown and my temper diminished. I am slowly learning that it is OK to let others do things for me. It is humbling to accept help. I have a new appreciation for WM and my parents who have taken up residence in our guest room with the intention of staying until Thanksgiving maybe longer. They help with everything. I hardly lift a finger. I am blessed by friends, dear sweet friends, who have filled our freezer with meal after meal, who spend the afternoon loving on my kids so I can go to the doctor, who answer the phone before the first ring ends with 'What can I do for you?' rather than a simple hello. And the prayers and some not so kind words that have been offered up to Him, they bring me peace and fill my heart to its very brim. Yes, there are a few who have been shouting just as much as they've been praying. Keep it up. Please.
Just before my surgery, we spent an afternoon with Mandy Birdwell, a very talented local photographer. For the first time EVER we had professional photos taken of us. She did an amazing job capturing the essence of our family. I obsessively checked my inbox from the minute I got home from the hospital, eagerly awaiting the images. Before our photos were uploaded to her site for viewing, she sent the following video, a reminder that I can carry with me for those moments when my resolve starts to waver. As I cannot write a post without including at least one photo, here she is in action. And just below the image is a link to the slideshow she put together.
Strength Video: Click Here.
It's pure emotion and I just love it.
Where to start...
The surgery was deemed a success. My breast tissue was removed. The old scar from my lumpectomy was excised. To see if the cancer had spread, my sentinel lymph nodes (the first one out from each breast) were removed along with several more on my left and cancerous side. As I opted for reconstruction, expanders were placed under my pectoral muscles in preparation for stretching muscle and skin to accommodate permanent implants down the road.
The pain is not nearly as bad as I anticipated. I braced myself for the worst. It was tolerable right from the get-go. That was a pleasant and very welcome surprise.
What was not pleasant or welcome was the recurrence of cancer in the original site. A 6 cm mass was found, and while not solid cancer, it was back. Yes, lumps had reappeared both during chemo and in the months that followed. Each time, radiologists examined the lumps and declared them benign.
I still feel sick at the thought of WM and my parents being ushered from the waiting room into a consultation room, my surgeon ready to deliver the crushing blow. He knew what was coming. We'd been here many times before with little Sophie and I, for the first time, was not there to hold his hand and wipe away the tears all the while whispering and crooning, 'It's OK. We're strong & we'll get through this.' I am so sorry, Love. So very sorry. Since then, there have been scans and consultations and a change in oncologists. Each time, the plan changes a little bit more.
The PET scan last week was negative in all the normal places breast cancer would spread to. However, there was one odd spot that lit up on my neck near my thyroid. A CT will be done tomorrow to investigate that further. What could it be? Well, at this point, that is unknown. Yes, the aforementioned unknowns... I have a special loathing for both the 'unknowns' and the 'wait and sees'. It's a hatred like no other.
My plastic surgeon feels I'm doing 'remarkably well.' The incisions are healing as they should be. He has actually allowed me to lift slightly more than the prescribed 10 pound limit, something that lifts this troubled mama's heart. It means I can pick up and hold Maxwell on my own. I return to his office Thursday to have the drains removed and to receive my first fill.
My oncologist has a new plan, one that involves both systemic and localized treatment. It begins with 12 weeks of Taxol. Yes, I'll be back in the infusion suite every Friday from November 9 through January 25. UGH. Chemo. (If there is a plus side to this, it's that my cancer is very fast growing and chemo has been shown to be more effective on the fast growing cancer than on the slow growing cancer.) The idea behind more chemo is to destroy every last little bit of cancer that could possibly be hiding in my body. While the PET didn't show any, there could still be micro mets lurking in a dark corner. This should take care of them. Following chemo, will be radiation to target the area that was specifically affected. And, as my cancer is hormone fed (estrogen positive), measures will be taken to suppress my estrogen production. Let's not feed the beast, right? Tamoxifen will be prescribed. Perhaps there will be shots given to shut down my ovaries. Perhaps they will be removed altogether. That part of the plan has not been settled upon yet.
My boobs. Well, I affectionately call them my Frankenboobs now. There are three inch wide incisions right in the middle of each one. They are bloody and covered in steri-strips. If you think having your nipples show through your shirt is embarrassing, try these. It looks like I have caterpillars in my bra. No joke. One day, I will show you. Yes, I feel it is important. Look at The Scar Project. Please click on those words. Yes, click on over to that link. Just don't forget to come back and finish reading my post.
That's the why and the how.
I waver between fierce determination that I can do this again and that we'll get it right this time and wondering who I pissed off or why our family can't seem to catch a break. I hug my kids a little tighter and kiss them with even more frequency. My patience has grown and my temper diminished. I am slowly learning that it is OK to let others do things for me. It is humbling to accept help. I have a new appreciation for WM and my parents who have taken up residence in our guest room with the intention of staying until Thanksgiving maybe longer. They help with everything. I hardly lift a finger. I am blessed by friends, dear sweet friends, who have filled our freezer with meal after meal, who spend the afternoon loving on my kids so I can go to the doctor, who answer the phone before the first ring ends with 'What can I do for you?' rather than a simple hello. And the prayers and some not so kind words that have been offered up to Him, they bring me peace and fill my heart to its very brim. Yes, there are a few who have been shouting just as much as they've been praying. Keep it up. Please.
Just before my surgery, we spent an afternoon with Mandy Birdwell, a very talented local photographer. For the first time EVER we had professional photos taken of us. She did an amazing job capturing the essence of our family. I obsessively checked my inbox from the minute I got home from the hospital, eagerly awaiting the images. Before our photos were uploaded to her site for viewing, she sent the following video, a reminder that I can carry with me for those moments when my resolve starts to waver. As I cannot write a post without including at least one photo, here she is in action. And just below the image is a link to the slideshow she put together.
Strength Video: Click Here.
It's pure emotion and I just love it.
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