Spinning Yellow

My Mother-In-Law, Survivor

I almost titled this "My Mother In Law Has Cancer", but I didn't want the cancer to define her.  I hesitate to even say "Survivor" but a blogosphere person, who just found out  she has cancer, is looking for inspiration.  And the survivor that I think of is my very own MIL. 

So when I say my MIL has cancer, I mean, had, technically, I guess.  But not just once or even twice, but many times.  In her breast, then her colon, and her lung and then her breast again and well, lots of cancer.  Cancer that first appeared many years before I knew her and then most of it over the past eight years that she and I have become family.

Cancer that has completely changed her life.  Cancer that has sent her to the hospital countless times.  Cancer that has required her to endure major surgery, over and over.  Cancer that took away a big part of her colon and now both of her breasts.  Cancer that has made her so sick all she can do is lie on the sofa and wish the hours away.

When I first met my MIL, shortly after I met my husband, she seemed healthy and vibrant.  Within months, just as Matt and I were getting engaged, she found out that she had colon cancer.  I didn't know her very well then.  I felt for her, but I was concerned about my fiance.  I didn't understand the magnitude of what she was going through, nor can I really comprehend it now.

Obviously, I didn't want her to die, nor did I want her to suffer.  But that's long before I knew her like I do now.  Like a friend.  I would say, like a mom, since I know that's what you are supposed to say about your MIL.  But I don't see her that way.

My mom is right here, two blocks away.  I talk to her all the time.  She knows me well, but will always regard me as the child she gave birth to and raised.  How could she not?  But my MIL didn't know me when I was young.  She wasn't there to experience a lifetime of me.  She has no feelings of regret or frustration with who I am or what I have done.  She just knows me as the person who married her son and is the mother of her grandchildren.

When people complain about their MILs, how they butt in and take their husband's side.  I shake my head, not so with me.  And then they say, but she tries to be my mom.  Again, not my MIL.  She is her own person and regards me the same way.  I do not feel that she talks down to me in any way.  There is mutual respect and from me, without a doubt, admiration.

My MIL dropped out of college to have a family.  Her own mother died young and she has had many obstacles along the way.  But after the colon cancer surgery and subsequent grueling chemo and radiation, she is every bit a survivor.  She decided to go back to school and pursue her dream of getting a college degree.

Always the smartest person in the room, it was hard to believe that she could have possibly not finished college.  So, while she would get scans and check ups, she went to school.  Earning first her undergraduate and now, in May 2007, a Masters degree.  She excelled in college in every way.  Receiving top marks and recognition for outstanding work.  And through it all she continued to battle cancer.

As a result of her initial colon cancer surgery, she had scar tissue that would cause her to get a "blockage" which would mean she had to stay in a hospital for days, in horrible pain, until it passed.  She always completed her required school work.  She had to have more surgery to correct the situation, then had cancer removed from her lung.  And just before the start of this year, she found out that she had breast cancer.

While getting a double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery, she completed her Masters Degree (with Honors).  Nothing was going to stop her from pursuing her goal and living her life.  She is an expert on cancer.  She researched and knows as much as a patient can.

Not long ago, I told her that she was such a great resource for cancer patients.  She surprised me by saying that, although she is happy to help (and she is involved in many ways), she also didn't really want to be a poster child for cancer.  That sometimes she is sad and scared and overwhelmed just like all other people who have or have had cancer.  That she didn't want people to be frightened by her multiple bouts of cancer and recurrences.  She didn't want their pity.  She didn't want them to look at her and fear the worst.   That she was tired and weary of always having to be strong.  That she knows she will always be fighting this disease.  It has been difficult and terrifying.  It still is.

And I think she was also trying to say that she didn't want the cancer to define her.  And it hasn't.  It has made her better.  It is part of her.  And even though she and I do not share any blood, the cancer is now part of me, too.  Because I see how someone can live through it and with it and despite of it. 

I will always be inspired by her courage, her steadfastness, her strong will, her openness.  And I am grateful that she is my MIL and my friend.

I have been meaning to write this post (what else is new?) and was inspired to put other tasks aside for a fellow blogger, Whymommy, from Toddler Planet, who won a pass to BlogHer 2007 and now can't go.  You see, she just found out she has breast cancer and needs to start treatment right away.  I hope this helps to give her a little bit of encouragement.

Look! I Have a Cross Post!

Hey!  This is exciting, I have a cross post over at askpatty.com.  It is my Honda Pilot story that I submitted for the BlogHer 2007 conference pass contest.  So, go check it out and while you are there, surf around at Ask Patty, a web site for woman about car stuff. 

Ironically, we may be adding a minivan to our household.  No, I am not pregnant, as I think I made clear in my last post.  Can't give you any more information than that right now, sorry.

And cross your fingers for me, maybe I will win the free pass and get to the BlogHer conference after all.

Ode To My Honda Pilot

I've never been a car girl.  When coworkers would start to describe and compare their cars or discuss which car they wanted when they made a million dollars, I would stop listening.  I could care less.   A car was a vehicle to get from one place to another but I never felt this car love that others had.

Growing up my father was a salesman.  He would get a new Buick every year or so and we  had trouble remembering what his most recent car looked like.  My mother always drove a big station wagon.  The one I recall the best was an Oldsmobile Custom Cruiser complete with wood panel styling.  We used to call it the "S.S. Belle" because it was such a boat.  All three children learned to drive in it.  It survived many family road trips and sporting events.

When I was in college I didn't even want a car like all my friends did.  When I was home I would just use my parent's car or sometimes my brother's beat up old "Yellow Bean" Volvo.  I didn't drive it very well because it had a tricky clutch and I was distracted by the honks from Dead Heads noticing his bumper stickers. 

So it should come as no surprise that, when I HAD to buy a car because my job moved to a place that I couldn't get to by public transportation, I wasn't sure what to get.  I went with the inexpensive, practical, good gas mileage, small, Toyota Corolla.  Having a car stressed me out.  I was worried about it and feared I would do something wrong.  After awhile a grew mildly attached to it, naming the car "Candy Apple" based on its maroon-ish color.  I took it on trips and on errands.  I felt cool owning a stick shift and liked that it never broke down.

When it came time to sell the car, I felt like I was losing a part of my no-strings-attached, single, career girl life.  I had to convert to my parent's used, automatic Subaru Outback Wagon so that I had a safe place for the baby on the way.  I got used to the practicality quickly and was not interested in changing cars when the second baby was about to be born.

My husband was vehemently opposed to owning a minivan and frankly, I didn't want one either.  I thought it was silly to take such a large, unwieldy vehicle to the grocery store and carpool line.  People told us that we would love a minivan.  I wouldn't even consider one that didn't have 4-wheel drive.  I wasn't going to be one of those stupid moms with two little kids skidding out going up the hill to the doctor's office.  Enter the Honda Pilot.

My husband started campaigning for a Pilot after he saw his friend's.  He even sent me a funny article about how to convince yourself to get a Pilot when you really need a minivan.  My husband is tall and he needed a car with ample lag and head room.  With two kids and a dog we knew we needed a decent size car, an SUV or a Minivan.  The Pilot seemed to fit all the things we wanted including fold away third row seats.  We call it "The Truck".

It was always intended to be my car and I adjusted to the size fairly quickly.  I liked that I was up high and got used to climbing into the car.  I loved that it was a snow capable truck.  We took it on trips and I drove it around town.  It can still be difficult to squeeze it into our garage, but, overall, I have been pleased with it.  Until I got stuck in a late season, traffic-jam producing storm.  Then, I fell in love.

I had taken my almost three year old daughter to visit a friend and her triplets about an hour away.  As we were driving there, the weather report said that the snow was going to continue, mix with rain and become problematic for commuters.  I figured we weren't going too far and, besides, we would leave well before rush hour.  No worries.

We had a wonderful visit that included my daughter falling asleep when the triplets went down for a nap.  Around 3pm we realized it was getting late, checked the road conditions and I prepared myself for what could possibly be a long trip home.

Little did I know that it would take over 4 hours for me and my daughter to get back to our house.   The trip home was harrowing, frustrating and long, but I never once felt unsafe, secure in my Pilot.  As my daughter listened to the Easter Bunny music CD over and over, I checked in on my cell phone and tried to avoid the other cars on the road.  At first we were at an almost complete stand still.  Blocked by cars that had spun out and were stranded perpendicular to traffic.  When we did inch along I was concerned that another driver would slide into the side of our truck.  I was not worried that we would be hurt or that our car would slip, I just didn't want anyone else to run into us and leaving us unable to return home.

My daughter never fell asleep and only got a little bit restless.  I knew her car seat was tethered in properly.  I was warm, safe and mostly comfortable (there was no way I could stop for the bathroom).  I felt fortunate to have a car that handled so well in the snow and ice.  I felt safe being up high and also, because it is a big, sturdy car.

I should have stayed home that day, but I didn't.  I am glad that my Honda Pilot brought us home safely even if a little rattled.  I will never defect to a Minivan. 

Unless, of course, we have more kids.  Then I may have to reconsider.  Car Love can be fickle that way.

This post was entered in the askpatty contest to win a pass to BlogHer2007.  Can you tell I really want to go?

I Blog, Therefore I Am

I have a story to tell.  It is why I started blogging a few months ago.  The story is mostly written.  I have four posts that are nearly complete chronicling the ordeal we went through.  I have not published it yet.  I have been busy writing other things.  And living my life. 

I know I will get to it because it is important to share.  But a surprising thing has happened since I started a blog.  I am writing more about my life now than what has already transpired.  I am learning about who I am as much as I am sharing what I've learned.

I have awakened in myself a side I had kind of forgotten about in the midst of all the family and child-raising overload.  It is the idealistic, youthful, part of me that wants to save the world.  The one that used to lament, but I want to have a cause, when I was a young adult.  The teenager who just knew that I was meant to somehow, some way make a difference. 

Having children made me feel this in a personal way.  That I was creating life and could impact a person so completely.  My life would be carried on through another human being.  But blogging has made me feel it outside of my immediate family once again.  And I realized I missed it.

So I am happy to say that blogging has made me feel inspired to do new things.  Take chances like running a race and writing to the New York Times.  I think I knew that would be the case, because trying one hard thing begets trying more.  One step leads to another.

I am pleased, though, that I am enjoying it so much.  That it feels much more like an artistic endeavor than a chore.  It reminds me of drawing or even doing a puzzle, things that I have trouble pulling myself away from.  I feel driven to write as therapy and for pure enjoyment.  Not just to share my story to help others, but to share myself.

The dialog that has been going on inside my head has now been made public.  I am putting myself out there for everyone to see.  Complete strangers, if they want.  But mostly a few friends and relatives that I feel comfortable sharing this blog with.  I am feeling more confident.  I am posting comments on other people's blogs and getting messages back.  I feel the power of community.  The sense of enlarging my circle of influence and of being influenced.  Reading what others are posting and wanting to add my perspective to their conversation.

I am not a writer.  I was a business major.  I knew that to tell the story I wouldn't be able to do it by writing a book or an article in a magazine.  I have no experience or qualifications for that.  Having a blog has given me the opportunity that I would not otherwise have had.  People can find me and what I have to say, if they want.

Blogging has given me credibility.  A place to record and share my thoughts.  For understanding, validation, compassion and community.  I am compelled to do this.  To make a difference, contribute, keep seeking answers and live fully.  I am empowered.  My voice is now heard.  I will tell my story.  It is larger than I had originally thought.  Blogging has shown me that.  It has changed my life already.  And I know it is just the beginning.

This post was written for submission in the mommyblogstoronto and Her Bad Mother win a trip to BlogHer2007 contest.  The writing topic was "(how) does blogging empower women?" 

Where Does My Time Go? or Does This Count As Wasting Time?

Whoa oh, what I want to know is Where does the time go? - Uncle John's Band, The Grateful Dead

I had a great post planned for this topic.  All about the things that suck up my time like preparing and cleaning up meals, sweeping the floor, putting things away, and doing laundry.  About annoying shit like incompetent township employees and when baby sitters don't show up.  About what I should be doing with my time like getting a job, cleaning the house, organizing the office, sorting the clothes in the kid's closet (yeah, I know, they don't need sweaters anymore), being more of an SPD advocate, and looking at web sites like Light Iris which claim they will help me make better use of my time.

About the evolution of my time management from the straight-A high school student who ridiculously scheduled every ten minutes of my day.  To the over-achieving collegiate who felt guilty lounging around watching TV when I could be studying.  Morphing into the young professional who, as a consultant, used to turn in a time sheet with details of every minute of my day, joking about where to bill the 2 hour discussion we had about so-and-so's failed relationship.  To the mom I've become who is always running behind, promising to get done something I should have ages ago.  This has gotten considerably worse as I had one child and then another.

About how infuriating it is to have my husband come home and say, "What did you do all day?"  To which my friends have offered the replay, "Well, the children are alive and I did manage to get to Target to buy the toilet paper that wipes your ass!"  And I start to wonder myself, what exactly did I do?  Changed diapers, listened to complaints, broke up sibling squabbles, picked up dog poop outside, answered questions about what place the Phillies are in or why, if death is bad, that people are always talking about it.  Doing those things and more along with all the regular stuff.

About what I wish I was doing like watching one of the 50 or so Oprah episodes I have TiVo'd, going out on a date with my husband, or playing with my children.  Reading my current book group selection, taking up drawing again, finishing (I mean starting) the kids scrap books, and redoing the 3 year old photo board.  Or even what I am really doing which is obsessively checking my blog stats and trying to win a pass from the Parent Bloggers Network to the BlogHer 2007 conference.

But what I've decided to write about is what I've been doing lately, which is read blogs and, more specifically, follow Duckiegate.

This started innocently enough.  A post by Motherhood Uncensored about her daughter's accidental theft of one little stuffed duck that has blown up into a large debate and blog linking bonanza.  I have been following the coverage with an outsider's eye, keeping myself above the lure of posting my own thoughts. 

Which are actually mixed on this.  On the one hand I would never have woken up my sleeping child to return the duck as some people have claimed they would do.  But on the other hand, I would have felt guilty about keeping it and especially about using my stolen (even if accidental) property to make a profit.  I wonder if the GAP gets a kick back on any "Keep the Duck" products sold.  This presumes, of course, that no one would actually buy the "Return the Duck" t-shirt unless they were too stupid to realize they were actually supporting the whole thing.

Kristen's children are so young they have no idea about the ethics of stealing.  I guess I might have reminded the older child that she cannot take anything from a store, but more than that, you're wasting your breath.  It is down right ridiculous that people are getting all high and mighty that this is an indication of the downfall of our society.  Maybe Kristen has a reputation for being immoral, she does write a sex column (gasp!) after all, and post things like this.

When Scott was around 4 years old he walked out of Target with a candy bar in his hand.  It was deliberately stolen and he guiltily showed it to me as we were getting in the car.  I took him back in the store but spared him any discussion with an employee because he was so terrified.  I am sure he thought he would get sent to jail immediately and never see his home again.  We did not discuss this incident with Jane, who was only one at the time.  I think that needs no explanation.

We've also damaged items at the grocery store, accidentally, of course.  Dropped fruit or stomped on items that were already on the floor.  One time when Scott was a baby I let him hold the yellow items, bananas and a cereal box.  He chewed through both.  And Janie reached behind her and grabbed a carton of eggs, which oozed all over the contents of our cart and the floor.  I never paid for these damaged goods, figuring that that was the price of having moms who shop.  I drop over $100 weekly there, I think I am entitled to a few slip ups.  Accidents happen and they write off the loss anyway.

What I find most intriguing about the whole duck thing is that so many people are spending their time on it.  Tons of comments, plenty of links, discussions all over the place.  A blogging field day of sorts.  Is this a good way for people to spend their time?  Is it any different than the water cooler discussions just held on the blogosphere in witty, sarcastic glory? 

I love the blogging forum for discussion from anyone out there who has an internet connection.  If you want to talk about stolen ducks you can, no matter who you are.  And no one knows what you are doing, so far be it for anyone to decide if you should be doing something else with your time.  But, what if all these people were doing something else instead of linking and lurking around?  I'm sure a time management professional would not approve.

And how do the bloggers find time to blog anyway?  Don't they have little kids?  I am finding myself sneaking into our office several times a day just to check my blog for comments.  I have so much to write about that I don't think I'd run out of ideas even if I could blog all day long.  See, I need to go to the conference to figure out how people fit blogging in with their life.  And blog reading.  Because I can't quite keep up.

But life is not all about deadlines and to do lists as we all know.  It is about wasting time here and there on things that make you think or just laugh.  So if I am judged by the company I keep, I am glad to be reading the likes of such clever, thoughtful, controversial, insightful, and just plain old hysterical bloggers (those links are just a few examples!). 

As the Judybats say,

"And good taste
And a taste for wasting time
I love you wasting mine
You fill the empty hours just fine"

I know I'm taking the lyrics out of context, I'm not in love with these bloggers.  But you get the idea.  As in, go ahead, waste my time, it's fine!

So the question remains as to whether this Duckiegate following is a waste of my time.  It is entertaining, sure, and I dig a good discussion about what is right and wrong.  But really, all this coverage about it?  Am I guilty for engaging in it or is it good research for a novice blogger who wants nothing more than to write something that gets so much attention?  And if, by writing about it, I get to win a pass to BlogHer 2007, then, well, wasn't it worth my time?

And if I don't win the contest, can I at least get some credit for such blatant, shameless ass-kissing? 

Note:  And now I feel guilty after reading mothergousemouse's post about her daughter's possible need for Early Intervention and whether she has lost time by not getting her help earlier, which is really what I understand and probably what I should have written about!  Look for a post about that soon, when I find the time.