Phoning it in

The last few weeks have been a bit on the rough side around here.

[side note: In what we'll call fair disclosure, there have also been some really fun and great moments as we have a French foreign exchange student, which maybe I'll blog about later!]

Anyway, there have been some not fun side effects. Higher levels of stress. And some bad news from friends and loved ones.

Boo. Hiss. Cry. Be sad.

So tonight, I'll ordered dinner. We rarely order dinner, except for pizza nights. Like, not counting pizza, I can't remember the last time I ordered dinner. But I just could. not. make. dinner. tonight.

And then I flashed to my grandmother's funeral late last summer.

My grandma was 98 years old when she passed away. She passed away in the bedroom she was born in. In the house on the farm her parents started. Eventually her and my grandfather took over.

At the funeral people were sharing memories. One of the memories shared was going to her house to wash jeans, which took a long time.

Grandma had 9 children. And a husband. On a farm.

Something really resonated with me that day, that I thought of today.

Grandma couldn't take a day off. She couldn't just decide to not make dinner. Or to wash all the jeans. Or other laundry. Or cooking food. Or all the things she had to do.

And I think about today. Where I have an electric stove, a microwave, a dishwasher, a washing machine, a dryer, a car, tons of grocery stores, only three kids, etc, etc.

Which makes me think, damn, grandma was a strong woman.
Which makes me thing, damn, I'm lazy.

Though I don't think I'm lazy.

But I wonder, did grandma ever wish she could make someone else make dinner. Did she ever call a friend or relative and say hey, today's been rough, can you help me feed all these people. Or did she serve leftovers once or twice not because it was all she had but because she didn't want to cook more food. And if she had, could she have admitted it?

What pressures were on her as a mother as the ebb and flow of life rushed on around her?

I never asked her.
I never even thought to ask her.

I wish I had, honestly.

I suppose this is a case of you didn't know what you wanted until it was gone.
Or I took for granted that she could have taken a break, or not made dinner, or skipped laundry one week.

I'll assume that when my grandma was in the throes of motherhood and had some bad days, heard bad news, got sick, that she didn't take a break. That she had to buck up and make dinner anyway.

That said, I'm glad I could literally phone in dinner tonight. And I won't take for granted the ability to do that.

Exciting news

I should have come and blogged this the moment I found out, but as you can tell, not much blogging taking place around here these days!

That aside, I have some really exciting news. I'm going to be in the Chicago's Listen To Your Mother show this year! I'm so thrilled about this. Not only is it going to be fun to take the stage again after doing it in 2012, but, this time around is going to be even better.

If you check the cast list, you might notice that another participant shares the same last name as me. My 14 year old Emma will also be in the LTYM show! She has been trying out for the last several years and wasn't cast. And I have to tell you, that I admire her for trying again and never giving up. She didn't let not being cast get her down - she kept trying.

If you remember from 2012, I almost died before the show because of nerves. And she's 14 and ready to take the stage by storm (but a friendly, happy, lovely storm!).

Anyway, we'll take the stage on Sunday, May 7. If you'd like to be in the audience, tickets are on-sale right now. And naturally, Emma and I would both love as much support from the audience as possible. I still might be terrified to take the stage this time around, just slightly less than last time.

I can't wait! Two months to go =) 

This is 37

Monday was my birthday. Yay for more birthdays!
I had lots of friends send me wishes via facebook, and so I wanted to make sure I said thank you.
My thank you post turned out to be pretty long, long enough in fact to become a blog post. So here you go, this is a straight copy & paste job!

Thank all for the lovely wishes. I've been having a great day so far - the kids made me a banner, blew up some balloons and made cupcakes. I finished the book I was reading (that was due today). We went to the library and the grocery store. Now we are getting ready to head out to Miss M's softball game, where we'll eat pizza and enjoy our cupcakes. It's not fancy, but it will be a good birthday dinner none-the-less.

Now, for the serious part.

I'm 37 years old. I can't lie, I wasn't sure that I'd see 37. I didn't share this widely at the time, but when I was diagnosed, based on my specific cancer, age, and treatment, the statistics said that there was a 27% chance that I would be alive in 5 years. That's really hard to hear.
While I know I'm not a statistic, and it didn't feel like a dramatic death sentence, it still felt like a punch in the gut to hear. I never thought "when I'm 37," it has been "If I get to 37."
 
I know sometimes when I say things like that to Eric, it is hard for him to hear. I never said it to be depressing or dramatic, but it just what was for me.
 
It was hard for quite some time for me to plan in the future. I'm sure it was a defense mechanism, but I stopped thinking about long term plans. I stopped thinking about how I would spend retirement, or what I would do after all the kids left the house. That was hard to do. Because thinking about it would always end with my brain coming back to that 27%.
 
So I focused on doing. Doing things (when I could, when I was able to).
 
But I'm here. I'm 37. And that tightness in my chest feels a little less tight. I'm starting to just be more, instead of doing things, instead of just filling the time.
 
I know that none of us really knows what tomorrow brings. And I know some of you are dealing with a lot more than what I do. But it was still hard. And felt like a heavy burden to carry.
 
I'm glad I'm turning 37 today. It is a birthday that some of my friends didn't get to celebrate. But I'm here. I've got great friends and family. I'm here. I'm living. And I'm working on being. And I'm working on worrying a bit less. And I'm working on trying to just enjoy the here and now instead of letting the little things nag me or the big fears consume me.
 
So, happy birthday to me. And happy unbirthday to all of you, who helped me get here through love and support and humor and all the many ways you are blessings in my life.
 
And an extra shout out to the husband Eric - my rock, my protector, the guy who would walk through fire for me. And my mom Ellyn, who never makes me feel bad when I have to call her crying, who has supported me always and has always been there for me.

 So here we go. This is 37.

5 years ... and one week

I had every intention of writing and sharing last Tuesday.
But life.
So today is better than never, right?

So. 5 years (and one week ago) I heard the words "You have cancer."

5 years.

I know, 5 years is supposed to be really exciting.

Like celebration exciting.

And yet, to be honest with you, I wasn't feeling any of it.

To be really honest, I actually kind of felt depressed about it.

I realize this might seem counter-intuitive. I realize there are some people who are scared they won't see the five year mark and are jealous of where I am now. I have friends who are no longer with us who never saw the five year mark.

I'm not trying to downplay the fact that I am lucky enough to still be here. Five years later.

But when I think about those who aren't here. Or those who are worried they might not be here in five years, it weighs heavy on my heart.

I didn't do anything special to still be here. The science that we have worked for me. There are people who at the same age, with the same cancer, with the same stage, with the same grade who the science didn't work for.

I am not still here because I am strong.
I am not still here because I stayed positive.
I am not still here because I did cancer "right."
I am not still here because God loves me.
I am not still here because I am special.
I am not still here because of any of this.

They are not here because they were weak.
They are not here because they were negative.
They are not here because they did cancer "wrong."
They are not here because God didn't love them.
They are not here because they weren't special.
They are not here because of any of this.

We have science to try to treat cancer.
Sometimes it works.
Sometimes it doesn't.

This makes it hard for me to celebrate.

Let me be clear: I am grateful. I am happy. I am glad.

But to celebrate? Celebrate something that I really had little control over? It's been hard for me to get to that point.

So, my husband and I decided over the weekend, we'd go out and get a drink. Say cheers.

At the last minute, I almost said screw it, let's just get in pajamas and stay home, but I didn't. And we got to the bar, I was surprised to see my family there - my mom, dad, sisters, and brother-in-laws. I yelled. I cried. I hugged. And I instantly felt my spirits lift.

We sat, we ate, we talked, we had a drink. A friend texted to see if she could meet us there too.

More laughter, more talking, more eating, a second drink.

I can't lie, it felt good.

I walked in that night feeling sad and overwhelmed and like it was hard to celebrate.
I walked out that night feeling happy and grateful and glad we did celebrate.

Yes, I am still mourning friends.
Yes, I have sadness for those who are dealing with illness (or other things).

But.

But.

I realized that at the same time, I can feel happy for where I am.
I can celebrate these milestones.

I don't need a big huge party. I don't need gifts. But to have loved ones around me, to say cheers, I'm here to have this drink,  that was exactly what I needed. I needed this Saturday night gathering and I didn't even know it.

I can celebrate these moments.
I can embrace these anniversaries.

This doesn't mean I'm forgetting about others who couldn't be there or couldn't have that moment. Because, I don't. And don't ever intend to.

But, you guys? It's been 5 years. And a week.
5 years.
That sometimes seem like 5 days and other times feel like 5 decades.
5 years.
Yep. I can raise a glass to that.



Before I close, I want to remember those who I'm missing
Jenny
Susan
Rachel
Jada
Barb
Dave
Lisa
Arlene
Mary
Ginny
Seporah
Katie

xoxo 

Hanging on to Hope

Last week I posted this on my facebook page

Sometimes I reach a point where not only do I think I will eventually die of cancer, but basically all of us will. Unless we're hit by a bus or some other freak accident first.
Because lately I can't seem to go a day without reading about a cancer death - from someone in my circle or a celebrity. Or learning a friend/acquaintance has just learned they have terminal cancer or that treatment has stopped working.
And while my first thoughts are about that person, my second thoughts are much more selfish. And it's hurting my heart and my head so very much.

Someone else chimed in that he was feeling the same way, but feeling like a jerk for thinking of himself. Last night at a in-person meeting, someone else said it was hard for her to hear all this news too. 

It is comforting to know that I'm not the only person who hears the recent news and doesn't feel stung by it. 

I know I didn't know any of the celebrities we've lost recently personally, and yet, if even they couldn't manage a way to out-science cancer, how can I? How can any of us? 

Right now, it feels that every time I turn around, someone is dying. Of cancer. Famous people, non-famous people, men, women, parents, children. When does it end? 

How do I hear this news and hold onto hope? Hope that I'll be here in 5 years? Hope that I'll be here in 10 years? Or 15? Will I see my kids graduate high school? College? Will I see them get married? Have children? Will I someday be sitting at a family reunion, with my children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren?

In a few months I hit my 5 year cancerversary. 

5 years.

5 years is supposed to be a magical number. Just get to five years and you're good, right? 

At my last appointment, the oncologist and I talked about how 5 years isn't the magic number. There isn't really a magic number. But, he did say, if we can get to 10 years, the chance of recurrence drops off a lot. It doesn't disappear. 

My cancer could come back in 11 years. Or 21. Or even 30. 

Money won't make my cancer not return*. Fame won't make my cancer not return. Being rich or famous doesn't mean cancer can't kill you. 

There are times where I wish I could insulate myself from learning about anyone's death from cancer. Sometimes I think I need to stop talking to people with incurable cancer. Sometimes I think I need to not watch the news. Sometimes I think I need to just hibernate, pull into myself, and ignore the wider world around me. 

And yet, that's not the answer either. I have made some really beautiful friendships with people who are dying from cancer. It is hard to lose them, but I think my life would be less if I had never met them. 

It is hard to lose family members. And friends. 

And yet. I love knowing them. I love the relationships I build with people. I love them, even if I know that there might be a hole in my heart later because I'll have to say good bye to them. 

That's just from my perspective. Can you imagine having incurable cancer and then all your friends backing away because it would be too hard to be your friend? I can't even. And I don't want to be the person who does that. 

But it's still hard. It still hurts my heart. And it still hurts my head.         
 

It's the night after Christmas

Another Christmas has come and gone.

I swear, we spend weeks preparing, and then poof! It's here. And over. And you've barely had time to take it all in!

That's not to say I don't enjoy the preparing. And I love the actual two days - Christmas Eve and Christmas day.

Our family was positively spoiled this year: both by ourselves and from others.

But I probably won't remember the specifics of this. We are spoiled every year. Every year the husband and I say that we went over the top for each other, for our kids. We have never had to have the experience of going without at Christmas or of feeling sad because we can't get our kids "enough." We've never had a Christmas where there is no where to go to celebrate the holiday with. And we've never had a Christmas apart (though it was close one year).

In ten years I might forget that this was the year I splurged and got my husband the new computer items he wanted (but would never want to spend the money on himself like that). I will probably forget that this was the year I got tons of baking supplies that I hope to use so many times that maybe in ten years they will already be replaced. I might forget that my son got a lot of dinosaur things - which he still loves and is so excited for. I might forget that I managed to somehow pick out make-up that the 16 year old actually likes. And I might forget that the 13 year old was most excited about getting a set of bed sheets with chickens printed on them.

What I hope to remember is that we baked a lot of cookies, but even better: we shared a lot of cookies. I hope I remember that my mom took me shopping and paid for cookie baking supplies so it would be one less thing for me to have to budget for the month (for while we don't go without, we also don't have unlimited spending) and that it felt like she handed me a million dollars instead of flour, sugar, butter, and some other things.

I hope I remember getting to rock our baby cousin to sleep at the Christmas Eve party. I haven't rocked a baby to sleep in a while, and her and I tucked away in a quiet room and I stole lots of baby kisses.

I hope I remember my 10 year old coming down stairs at 10:30 at night because he was just too excited to sleep! And Christmas is awesome and he just didn't know how he'd ever sleep! So we cuddled on the couch, flipped on The Christmas Story marathon and watched some tv together. And it was so sweet because at 10 he doesn't cuddle with me very often anymore. And we certainly don't get many moments where it's just the two of us.

I hope I remember the look on my mom's face as we all opened what she gave us. While what she gave us was awesome, her face of seeing us get it was priceless. For her the joy of Christmas is in seeing what happiness she can bring to others, and this year, that seemed to shine brighter than ever. Maybe it's always shone so bright, and this year is just the first year I saw it so much. But it was awesome. And I want to be like her.

I hope I remember how excited granny was that Santa brought her a present and filled her stocking too. We did this last year, but it seemed more fun this year. And I suppose it's probably been a while since granny has unpacked a stocking, but the simplest stocking stuffers made her smile.

I hope I remember that even though I didn't decorate every square inch of this house as planned - because we were having work on the house done, we couldn't decorate - that it was still a wonderful Christmas.

I hope I remember all the smiles I got to see. And all the hugs I was given and got to give. I hope I remember the happy tears - while just a few here and there - that I cried. And saw others cry, because even though things aren't perfect, and there is illness and sickness and some wish list items not purchased or received and some family isn't close enough to hug and some family members are (we like to wish) celebrating with us in Heaven, that despite the imperfections and heartbreak that exist in this world, that Christmas is still an amazing, wonderful time. And that the happiness and joy of the season seem to fill the cracks, if only for a small bit of time as you sit around the tree with your loved ones (the ones that were chosen and the ones that family ties you to). For a few moments, you look around and see smiles, and hear laughter. And sometimes there are tears in the eyes - sometimes happy tears, sometimes sad tears. But for a few moments, it's all okay.

I know we're supposed to carry the spirit of the season all year round. That's a lot of pressure though. Heck, I barely survived my great gingerbread-house-melt-down of 2015 (though I did) because it's hard to be happy and upbeat all the time. Life is just not built that way.

But for a few magical moments on Christmas, it all seems to fade away and just take a break. I am surrounded by the love of family and friends. I'm surrounded by smiles. I'm surrounded by squeals of delight.

It truly is a most wonderful time of the year for me.

I hope your holiday season was wonderful as well, even if not perfect, regardless of whatever holiday you celebrate (or don't) this time of year.

Time Goes Fast as it Slowly Marches On

Today is November 30.

The last day of November.

Tomorrow is December.

Um. I swear I blinked and November started. Then I blinked again and November ended.

These days just fly by like I can't imagine when I'm standing in the thick of them.

In the middle of the days, it feels as if time is marching slowly, just molasses rolling out over us. Tick tick tick goes the grandfather clock. 

I swear I spend hours telling the kids to get school work done. And hours folding laundry. And hours wondering what to make for dinner, not deciding, then hours thinking some more.

I count down the minutes until the husband gets home.

All the things that need to be done, take for. ever.

And our day is ruled by time.

Time to get up and wish the 16 year old a good day.
Time to get granny breakfast.
Time to tidy up just a bit.
Time to make sure the other two are up.
Time to nap because I'm still tired from the day before.
Time to get up and start schoolwork.
Time to make lunch.
Time to do more schoolwork.
Time to run to the grocery store.
Time to do more schoolwork.
Time for Jeopardy.
Time to tidy again.
Time for husband to come home.
Time to fold laundry.
Time to make dinner.
Time to clean up from dinner.
Time to watch the news.
Time to watch whatever show is on that night.
Time to get granny dessert.
Time to get things setup for bedtime.
Time to round the children up, to remind of the things they haven't quite finished yet.
Time to hug and kiss them, tell them I love them, and put them to bed.
Time for the husband to go to bed.
Time for peace and quiet.

That is of course the moment the clock starts flying and suddenly, like we're traveling in warp speed, the clock goes from ten to 12.

Time for me to get to bed!

So slow do the individual moments march on. So routine is our day.

There is comfort in the routine. Knowing what is to be done now and what should be done next.
The rhythm, albeit slow, is there and calms me. Until the moment the time is gone and we are frantically trying to get all the things done.

This is life. I take some days minute by minute. And then blink. A week is gone. A month is gone. Soon another year will pass.

Wasn't it just 2014 the other day? That day that felt like it took an entire year to pass?

But here we are. The end of November.

Another NaBloPoMo in the books.

Frankly, I'm most proud of this one. I had a good month this year.

It energized me. Hopefully, I can keep the energy going through December and into the next year. 

Because next year is coming in just another blink. And I'm going to try to not let it pass me by because time sure flies as it slowly ticks by! 

Togetherness

This weekend we spent a lot of time being together with others.

We spent time with friends, family. People we see all the time and take for granted and people we haven't seen in a longer time.

There was talking, and playing games, and shopping, and just being together.

There is something nice about being with people. And it's even nicer when it's people you like.

The last few weeks have felt heavy for me. Things going on have me feeling pulled down. Then with the news of bombings at the end of the week, it just felt like too much.

On Friday, one of my children asked me if I thought World War III would start and what would that mean to us.

I haven't often had to talk to my children about war.

It's not that we shelter them, we do talk about current events. But there always seems to be space between what is happening and us. 

Clearly, my child was not connecting things and realizing that it could happen here.

Until now, my kids have been buffered from it. My 9 year old is still.

It's so hard. Obviously I want my kids to have nothing bad happen to them. And yet, they have already had to walk roads that most of their friends have not.

So I just told her that there were bad things in the world. And I didn't know what tomorrow would bring. But to take today for what it's worth. She accepted it. We were on the way to pick up her friend. She seemed relieved and ready to talk about the next topic. 

How lucky she is that she can just jump to the next topic.

But still it weighs heavily on me. Somewhere, tonight, there are kids going to bed mourning their parents. There are parents going to bed mourning their children. 

It is heartbreaking to say the least.

So when we get a weekend full of friends and family and togetherness? It is a wonderful thing. And one I won't be taking for granted anytime soon. 

Dear Me

As part of an ongoing, very large project, I am going through all of our digital pictures. I am deleting the bad/blurry/duplicates. tagging people in them, writing captions, putting in the location they were taken at, etc.

I started working on this project two years ago. It's been a labor of love as I take a LOT of pictures.

Last night, I was in the January 2008 folder (I know, I know, that means I have like 8 years of pictures to still go through). And the memories came flooding back. I wished, so hard, that I could go back and talk to myself then. I suppose much like people write letters to themselves as a teenager, sometimes we wish we could go back and tell ourselves just a little bit about the future, just little whisperings to help plant seeds earlier, or help them grow faster, or ease our fears and worries. And so, here's a letter to my 28 year old self.


Dear Brandie,

Hi. It's me. Which is really you. And you are me. So it's me. But it's you. Is it us? I don't know, but there I go, being awkward already. I know, that's no surprise to you because I know that you often walk around and feel awkward. We'll get that in a moment though ...

I remember this picture. You were getting ready to go to the Oprah show. A big storm was moving in, so maybe you wouldn't be going. It was you and your mom going. You were going to sit in the audience, and on the off chance the camera caught you, you took this picture so friends would know what to look for.

You were filled with excitement. Going to a taping of the Oprah show? Awesome!

You were also nervous, because a storm was headed right at you. And you don't like storms. And you thought if things were bad, there was no reason to drive into the city after all.

Spoiler alert: you made it into the city just fine and you and your mom had a good time.

Anyway, you had your husband take this picture. And when you looked at it, you hated it. Your hair was too long and needed a cut. You thought you could lose 5 pounds. You hated your boobs - thought they were too big for the rest of your frame and were just so darn droopy. I think, you even commented when sharing the picture that you knew you needed a better bra.

That's just the cosmetic stuff. Internally, you felt awkward. You were sure that if you just worked harder, you could be a better mother, wife, daughter, sister. You felt positively not good enough. Truly, you weren't sure if you were worthy of being loved. Your life felt like a fairy tale, but you didn't feel smart enough, pretty enough, or kind enough to be the lead.

And you were tired. So tired. You imagined you were about as tired as someone could be! 3 kids, it's a lot of work to be sure!

You were so insecure. You felt weak. You wondered what was wrong with you. You would never think to describe yourself s brave, courageous, smart, pretty, funny.

That is not to say, you walked around in a depressed state thinking negative thoughts at all. You also had a lot of fun! Cooking with the kids, keeping up the house, your knitting and crafting. These were good things in your life. Despite all the nagging doubts and the not feeling good enough, you were for the most part happy. But we don't need to have a talk about those parts, do we? You already embraced them and loved them. You already are head over heals in love with you family. You already feel lucky to have them in your life.

Let me tell you something you haven't figured out yet though: they are lucky to have you in their life.

Oh, I see you, shaking your head and rolling your eyes right now. Oh yeah sure, you are sarcastically saying in your head, but it's true.

It's so true. Seriously. Ask them. They'll tell you. If you listen close enough, they are already telling you every day. There sweet comments to you, the hugs and kisses they freely give you, the thank yous, when they want to cuddle with you. This is your fairy tale, but it's their fairy tale too. Embrace it.

I know it's hard. For reasons out of your control, for reasons you had no control over, as a child you felt quite early that you must not be good enough. You thought you must be flawed. You thought you must be unlovable. People who were supposed to love you, did not. They were absent. Missing. The rest of your family, God bless them, stepped in and did what they could. But there was a hole that they couldn't fill. It wasn't their hole to fill. It was someone else's and that someone else, for whatever reason, was incapable of filling it. Trust broken by someone else. And once again, you placed the blame square on your shoulders.

As a child, you assumed the problem must be you. As children are want to do. Too young to see the bigger picture, we blame ourselves. I know you are just beginning to see this. But there is still a lot of hurt in there. You try to hide it. To stuff it down. It's okay to let it out some. It's okay to step back and look at the situation anew, with adult eyes. You deserve the peace that it will bring you.

Yes, this will be hard. But you know what else? You are so strong. You don't even know it.

I'm not talking in the I-can-run-for-miles-and-do-a-million-crunches-and-look-at-my-many-planks-strong. I'm talking inner strength. The strength that you pull up when you think you don't have single ounce left to give. The strength that you use to get out of bed even when you know the day ahead is full of scary, hard things. The strength to keep going, on those days when it feels like your body is fighting even the littlest step you try to take.

Oh, my sweetie, it's there. It's the strength you don't know about until you need it. You won't believe me right now. But it's there. And you will have to dig it out so much sooner than you think. You'll be scared. You'll be unsure. You'll be fearful. But you will be strong. You will take it a day at a time. You will use that strength to keep going. You will use it and find the beauty mixed in with the mess. The laughter mixed with tears. The smiles that are accompanied by sad, tired eyes. It's all there in this life. And you will face trials, as many before you have, with a strength that not even you knew you had.

Through it all, you will still doubt yourself. It's okay, you're human. Let yourself be human. Don't let it become a sign of weakness. Because that's what you will want to think, but it's not true. You are not weak. Parts of you might feel broken, but it's okay. We all have cracks. Every single one of us. But people, as you already know, are good. And they will continue to show you their goodness. And they will love you with your cracks. On your bad days. Through really tough moments.

You are loved so much more than you can even begin to understand. I'm not sure I can fully comprehend it even still today, but I've seen it. And I've felt it. And I realize it was there the whole time - so take some time to stop, to breathe, and to feel that love just wash over you. Because it's there and you deserve to feel it.

No. Really. You do. Trust me on this. I wouldn't lie to me. To you. To us.

You're pretty amazing honestly. I should probably feel a bit egotistical telling you this, but it's true. You are amazing.

Know what else you are? You're beautiful. I know you don't believe it. Okay, you don't even fully believe it yet today. From where I'm writing. But you're starting to.

This is the only body you've got. Sometimes you fight with it. The fatigue, the dark circles, the shape of it. You don't appreciate it. You want to change it, morph it, smooth things out. Oh, the laundry list you think of every time you look at your body of what you'd change. It's long. Shorten it.

Love your body. Learn to be comfortable in your own skin. You aren't going to look airbrushed in real life anyway, so let's throw that standard out the window. Someday in the future, you will find yourself looking at an old picture. And you will laugh, because then you wanted to lose 5 pounds (by the way, from where?!). And as you reflect on that picture, you wish you could go back to that body. On that day.

The point is, even if you did lose 5 pounds. You'd find something else to nitpick. And even if you gain 5 pounds, or, um, 10, it's not the end of the world. It might feel like it as you strive to look "perfect." But babe, there's no "perfect" out there. There's just you. Exactly how you are. And not only is that enough, it's more than enough. It is, actually, perfect.

Listen, I know I'm only 8/9 years in the future. I still haven't figured it all out. I am still not as comfortable in my own skin as I wish I was. I am still holding a spot in my heart where old hurts have not yet healed. But I've learned some things over the last few years.

Some of the things to come, I wish I could spare you from. But life doesn't work that way. We can't go backwards. We can only go forwards.

I can't really go back in time and share this with you. But I can write it today. And maybe in a month, a year, a few years, maybe I'll come back and read this again. I'll remind myself of where I was. And where I've been. And where I'm going.

I'll try to remember that I am not only loved dearly, but worthy of that love.
I'll try to remember that my body isn't perfect, but it is mine and I want to embrace it.

I'll try to remember to talk kinder to myself, to tell myself good job every now and then.
I'll try to remember to believe it when I tell myself these things.

Life is crazy! But you, you are fun. And you've got a lot to give others.

Now, go to sleep. I know you want to stay up late and watch the weather to see what the storm is doing, but it's not going to be bad enough to stop you and your mom from your fun morning. So go, rest. You look gorgeous! And you are going to have a fabulous time.

Smooches and love,
Brandie

Love

Last week, I had a particularly bad day.

And it happened on dance class day.

The husband and I signed up for dance classes this fall. Every Thursday, we head over to the local park district, where a lovely woman teaches us and an ever-shrinking number of other couples how to dance. Fox trot, waltz, two step, swing, and even some polka.

I have wanted to take dance classes with my husband our entire marriage, so when it finally became reality - thanks to him - I was over the moon.

So every Thursday I do my best to be feeling really good. I save my spoons for dance class. I need this dance class. I look forward to it. It's a time for him and I to do something together.

Last week, my Thursday was a long day. I didn't save my spoons. And in the middle of dance class, I got sick. We had to leave. And I was devastated. Just devastated.

I quickly moved into apologizing mode. And I said I was sorry more than several times to my husband, who felt no sorry was necessary and told me.

At some point he looked at me, and my breath was taken away.

Have you ever had this moment? Where someone looks at you? And you can just feel this immense amount of love coming from that person? In that moment, you can do no wrong, you are so loved. His love for me just oozed out of every pore in his body and I swear, I could feel it enveloping me. In, of course, love.

My goodness. There's not many people who can give you that feeling: your parents, your significant other, your children, a really really good friend. And even then, it's not a look you get every day. Oh, I know there's love there every day. I sense it, but not like this. Feeling it so strongly.

I cried. I cried because I was so frustrated at how I was feeling. I was so angry at my body, which sometimes feels more like an enemy than a friend. But I also cried because I just knew I was so deeply loved. I had this man who loved me more than should be possible, right next to me, standing by me - literally and figuratively.

I didn't do anything to deserve this. It just is. And I'm lucky enough to feel it.

I know how many people pine for that moment. How fleeting it can be. I know that tragic things can happen in the blink of an eye that put an instant wall up between even the strongest kind of love. I know that life throws curve balls and that that kind of love is not guaranteed in this life and if you've found it, it's not guaranteed to last. 

But my goodness. I've got it. Dance class or not. Healthy or not. Bad days or good days.

I feel lucky to have this.

I feel grateful to have this.

My husband is not perfect. Nor am I. But somehow, we are perfect together.

I want the world to know this. I want the world to know that I'm so thankful to have this moment, because mostly, I want my husband to know. I want him to know I don't take this for granted. I want him to know how absolutely loved he makes me feel. I want him to know that I'm so thankful.

I do tell him. Not often enough, but I do tell him these things. But writing it down? It's more permanent. It's more real. I won't live on forever, but these words will last longer than me. 

So in this month in which we are focused on all we are thankful for, I am thankful for him. I hope he knows it. I hope our kids know it. And I hope, that somehow, I can make him feel half as loved as he makes me feel.

Sleepless In Chicago

It's about 2am around these parts, and here I sit. At the computer. There is a storm raging outside. I think it's passed our house, but a few of those strikes felt a little to close to home for comfort. The light flickered several times. I have my phone next to me to use a flashlight, just in case. And the computer is unplugged and running on it's battery. A migraine is pounding my head so hard, I'm not sure it will ever go away. And I'm not sure one can be in this much pain without permanent damage. It all mixes in with all the other pain - chronic and new - that attacks my body every day.

This would be a fabulous first few minutes of a horror film, or some crime-drama on tv. While it is neither of those things, I do feel like I'm living in my own personal nightmare.

I just want to sleep.

I just want my head to stop hurting.

I just want my leg to stop hurting.

I just want the storm to stop. I mean this both literally and figuratively.

I currently feel adrift at sea ... being tossed by the waves ... hanging on to the railing for dear life ... praying I don't fall off ... hoping that calm waters are just up ahead ... that soon we'll be yelling "land ho."

I can only imagine it's the changing of the weather, but everything is off. I've got a migraine I can't kick. My meds just don't touch it. This leads to sleepless nights. Which means I feel just worn out and exhausted.

****

I wrote this a few weeks ago, in the midst of a major migraine that just wouldn't go away. It was awful. I stopped it when I just couldn't write anymore. I shut the computer down, hobbled up to my room and woke my husband. I told him I might need to go the ER but I just didn't know.

We didn't end up going. I wonder now if we should have. There was no relief from the headache for a few days after this. I finally went to the doctor, and got some different medicines and some other things to try.

I'm telling you: these days are hard. These are the days I want to just crawl into bed and hide for a month or two. I can't do that, of course, but I can take a nap here or there as needed.

And still, it's just beyond frustrating.

I think of the things I don't accomplish.
The stories I don't read with my kids.
The dinners I don't make.
The laundry I don't do.
The events I miss out on.
The time wasted.

When I went to the doctor, I had to fight back tears. And after talking about symptoms, how I was feeling, etc. After I got through it all, I stared at the floor as I told her "I just want to be a good mom. I'm not now, but I want to be."

My doctor, who is pretty fabulous and is our family doctor, hugged me and told me I already was a good mom. I appreciated the hug. I appreciated the words. It lessens the sting of all of this just a little bit.

Still. It's hard. Which I say a lot, but it is. I'm still trying to navigate it all. But today, today I am headache free and even though I'm exhausted, I'll take headache free for as long as it will last!

A Break

I know I took an unplanned break from blogging, but summer is busy and I needed time to just be with the family.

I wrote over at Cure Diva about it. Feel free to hop on over and check it out.

Dragons! Dragons! Everywhere!

*As a reminder, I am part of the  Netflix Streamteam. I am being compensated for sharing with you, but as  always, all thoughts and opinions are my own (or my children's ... they are not coached or told what to say!).
 
So, not that long ago, we learned that Netflix was coming out with a new show Dragons: Race to the Edge.

I kid you not, the first day it came out, my 9yo watched every episode! Granted, it was another rainy day around these parts (which we've had a lot of this summer). And he loved it!

Not that long after, we got some goodies in the mail from Netflix to celebrate Dragons: Race to the Edge and I'm pretty sure Mister 9 year old thought he was the luckiest kid in the world!

So, he wanted to share about Dragons with you on this blog, but writing isn't exactly his favorite thing to do. It's not even in his top 10 favorite things to do, so we decided to make this little video for you!

I hope you enjoy it and check out Dragons: Race to the Edge!

P.S. At the end of the video he said "Now  I'm off to the sky" and he flew away and I accidentally cut it off! So pretend it's there ;-)  

I think I'm more sad than them!

So, as every spring and start of summer, we've had kids playing ball.

One baseball player. One softball player.

I've been to almost all of their games - only missing a couple when they both play on the same night (and husband and I have to split games). I missed a few from not feeling that well. But I've been to almost every single game.

This year, I've also had the pleasure of taking pictures of them playing. Actually, the whole team. Both sets of coaches allowed me to stand on the sidelines of the field and shoot the whole team. And so more game than not I shot anywhere from 800-2000 pictures.

I learned more about my camera during this season than I have since I got it. I was proud of some of the pictures that I took. Every once in a while I get a picture that is just phenomenal and I'm shocked I took it! 

But taking pictures of all these kids, I feel invested in both of their teams.

My husband has been coaching for many years and I think I finally understand how he feels about coaching. I got to really know the kids on the teams this year and it's been a good thing.

But I haven't just gotten to know the kids, I've gotten to chat with a lot of the parents. These might be the best team parents I've had the pleasure of interacting with - not to say past teams have been bad! Because we've never been on a bad team (thankfully!)

I know I've talked about this before, but I struggle to meet people, to make friends, to feel a part of the group.

This year I felt that. I felt a part of the group.

It's been heaven.

Both my kids have either one or two games left.

And I think I might be more sad that the season is ending than my kids are. It's been such a fun season. In a perfect world, we'd stay with these teams for, oh, ever!

If we're lucky, we'll see a few of these kids on our team next year, but it's not guaranteed. And I hope that we can just get together after the season ends - both kids and parents - to keep the friendships growing.

Because it's been a good year. And I'm going to miss it!