I Can't Believe It's Been 5 Years....

since we found out my mom cancer. Her health was never great, but in the beginning of 2004, it went into a paid decline. She couldn't walk and was in constant pain. We both assumed it was bone related, maybe osteoperosis. She finally made the decision to see her doctor, who then sent her for an MRI. I remember sitting with her in the waiting room while she drank the 'Pina Colada' shake. I even took a sip to show her it wasn't bad. She knew I was full of shit. She weighed about 85 pounds at this point and her stomach couldn't handle as much as they wanted her to drink. I remember her puking on the technicians shoes after they forced another cup down her. Then I remember the call. She was writing everything down as she talked. Translated, they found a cluster of tumors on her hip bone. Her doctor had already made her an appointment with the oncologist; we had a long road ahead of us. As she talked, I Googled. Then, I panicked and cried. She held me in her lap(not an easy feat since I must have felt like an elephant on her fragile lap) and told me it would be okay. In the days leading up to her first oncology visit, she became increasingly confused and forgetful. She wet her pants and tried to hide it from me. She refused to see the doctor. She told me she didn't want me at the oncologist visit. My aunt was going to take her instead. At the time of her appointment, I got a phone call from my aunt. My mom didn't recognize her and collapsed off the couch. There began her month long stint in the cancer ward. After weeks of idiot doctors, mean nurses and crappy treatment, my mom made the decision to come home. I took loads of time off work, working in tandem with my fiancee and hospice to care for her. Her final days were crazy. I made funeral arrangements when she thought I was grocery shopping. My family told me to do it then because I would have no head for it once all was said and done. I laid out her favorite magenta pants suit; an outfit she adored and I hated. She wore it when I graduated college. I sat with her as she nursed her last beer and a microwave pretzel. She fell asleep and went somewhere in between. I call it between. There is no other way to describe it. It seems she was somewhere peaceful, but as much as she wanted to, she could not come back to where I was. I held her hand as she let out her last breath. Those last minutes were so powerful. That memory is never far from my mind.

Just Treadmillin'

I decided I would start up my old workout routine. I had my husband set up the treadmill in front of the flat screen in the basement and popped in Heroes, Season One. So far, so good! Lots of male eye candy on this show, which helps. As I was doing my thing on the treadmill, my son looked up at me and said, "Mommy, you go too slow." My husband cracked up because he doesn't understand just walking on a treadmill. He thinks if you don't start out with a full fledge jog, it's ineffective. NOT TRUE. If he stands by with a slice of pizza dangling from a fishing pole, barely within my reach while I am on the 'mill, I might break into a run. Maybe.

Orange. Lots of Orange

Well, I have an appointment next month to get some 'suspicious' moles looked at on my back. I am not a sun worshiper, use sunscreen, and burn pretty easily. But for some insane -o reason, I decided to use a self tanner this year instead of being pale all spring and summer. I did my research and drug store brand won out. Now, I have read hundreds of articles on how to apply the lotion, so you'd think I would be an expert, right?WRONG. SO WRONG. I did the basics - clean & exfoliate skin. Check. Remember to wash my hands in between applying? NOPE. Carefully apply to ankles, knees and elbows? NOPE. Put it on evenly? NOPE. I must add pictures to this post because you have to see it to believe it. Orange palms, one white knee, one orange knee, streaky thighs and arms, & crazy ankles. My husband first called me 'yellow' and once it totally set - 'sparkly orange', thanks to the bronzing crystals in the lotion. This is a must see to believe. Before I undo the damage, I will include some pictures for you all to laugh at :)

Ever heard of a 'Butt Stomach'?

I've seen them. Usually if you had an old school scar, lengthwise from navel to pubes, from an appendix removal or Caesarian. You gain a few pounds AROUND the scar and two butt cheeks are shaped on either side of it. It can be spotted in any shirt, sweater or dress that is way too tight.Well, I have no such scar, but truth be told, I had a 'butt stomach' in my Easter dress. My dear, sweet husband convinced me to wear the dress, which is two sizes too small and 5 years old. A lot has changed since then and boy, did it show. It was a wrap dress, with a black and white print, so that helped disguise it a little bit. It was there alright. I stared in shock, horror and then finally, I laughed. My BFF & I made fun of butt stomachs for a long time and now I had one. If she could only see me now. Fortunately, dinner at my family's house was casual, so I threw on the jeans and sweat shirt I had thrown in the car 'just in case'. And the jeans and sweat shirt stayed on at my in-laws since my daughter had spit up on my pretty dress and I thankfully had those clothes in the car. If you believe that, I have a bridge to sell you.
Note to self: Burn black & white wrap dress and start pilates.

Diet and Exercise are a Pain In the Neck...Literally.

I wound up at the chiropractor today due to wagon/Bjorn related injuries(See previous post about the wagon workout). He went easy on me with stretching out the tough spots. We have a great chiro - he would have to be - he doesn't blink an eye when my husband rips one while getting adjusted. Maybe Doc M doesn't have an olfactory nerve either, which would also help in that situation.
Speaking of my husband, he was the reason my son peed in his shoes yesterday. Darling husband was in a hurry to get to a fantasy baseball draft (fantasy for him, nightmare for me) and attempted to change the 3 year old's diaper. His effort was a waste, since he didn't put the diaper on correctly. Five minutes after he walked out the door, I hear a sound like water hitting the floor and then the famous,"Uh Oh!". So I had to clean my son, the floor, his pants, socks and shoes. Thanks Dear!
Anyway, I digress....How is my diet a pain in the neck? Could it be the whiplash I sustained while spotting a KFC and demanding my husband stop to pick up dinner? You bet my big biscuit & extra crispy arse it is!

Picture Day Hairy Scary

I had to get down to business using hairspray,water and a brush. Not on me. On the boy. It was picture day and his hair decided not to cooperate. After out usual clothing debate, I still had the hair to attend to. As he pretended to brush his teeth, I set to work wetting the hair he had so carefully styled with his pillow last night. The more I wet, the worse it became. Ryan was even frustrated with his hair. I wipped out the hair spray. I wet again. I combed. I was working up a sweat - this was definitely my exercise for the day. Finally, with only a few strays poking out, I gave up. The weather was not about to help me either. It was pouring buckets, so I was forced to put a hood over my masterpiece. We finally get inside school and my son yanks his hood off. It was like a cartoon - hair sticking out in every direction. I can't wait to see these pictures.

Wild & Humbling Wagon Workout

I decided today would be a nice day for outdoor activity. The two kids and I could enjoy the nice weather and get in some exercise. I got the brilliant idea of putting the baby in a baby carrier and my three year old in his Radio Flyer Wagon. Sounds simple enough, right? Wrong. It took me about 20 minutes to get little Katie in the carrier. First off, I never carried an 8 month old in it. After awhile of me cursing, threatening to throw it out the window, and playing with straps and buttons, the baby was my new appendage. Then I realized I forgot her coat and had to start all over. I waited patiently for Ryan to pack his backpack and get on his coat. There was a long struggle over getting his arms in the correct sleeves.("No Ry, you can't wear the coat with both arms in one sleeve."). Finally, we were on our way. I opened the garage to get the wagon and my son stood by the car, demanding to get in and go to school. I finally convinced him a wagon ride would be more fun. It would be for him and Katie, but not for mommy. I had fifteen pounds of extra weight from my chest to my pelvis, which kicked me the entire time. I should rename this kid "Happy Feet", since she is more than thrilled to continually kick and dance. My son tried to stand up repeatedly, and steer. So behind me I pulled 20 pounds of wagon and 30 pounds of child. Can you say PAIN? I finally got my groove a little; struggled with some uneven pavement and steep driveways, but we were doing fine. As I was about to pat myself on the back for 20 minutes of movement, I saw a woman, jogging with a twin jogging stroller, while walking her dog.