Letter Days

When I was about 9 or 10, I read this book called Night of the Twisters. I was obsessed with/terrified of storms, mainly tornadoes. Not too strange since we typically have a few hit our area each year. Anyway...I remember how the book begins, talking about red letter days and black letter days. About how they almost always start out like any other day. You wake up, get ready, go about your business, and then BAM, something happens to make it memorable, for the good or the bad.

I was reminded of that opening, to a book I read 20+ years ago, when my mom called me tonight.

She told me that her doctor feels that she has some indications of ovarian cancer.

My mom. Black. Letter. Day.

Her doctor is not diagnosing her, but sending her out for a special kind of scan. Never mind that before I had kids, I worked in the medical field, but the name/type of the scan escapes me. I've noticed that medical knowledge tends to flee when it concerns a family member.

Normally I would not be upset about this. My mom is one of those people who is always going to the doctor for some weird thing. If she doesn't like the answer one doc gives her, she'll go to another, and another. It sounds harsh, but when she's talking about her medical woes, I've kind of learned to tune it out, or take it with a grain of salt.

This is different.

A few weeks ago I almost called her and told her she needed to get tested for ovarian cancer. I had the most overwhelming feeling that I needed to tell her this. I had watched a segment of a talk show, and a doctor on the show said something that resonated so well with one of my mom's mysterious symptoms, and then he said it was a good indicator of ovarian cancer. Apparently doctors are learning more and more about this cancer, and they are starting to recognize some warning signs. Anyway...I didn't call. I didn't want to create drama, as I knew it would freak my mom out. I mean, it would freak me out if someone called me and told me that. Besides, her mysterious symptom had been diagnosed as something else and treated. Still, I felt that I should call her, but I didn't.

The lesson here is to listen to your intuition. How many times am I going to have to be shown that?!

Mom also has a few other seemingly (and hopefully) random symptoms that could indicate ovarian cancer. Scary

Her scan is Monday. That's a long time to wait. I can't believe I'm writing this down, but my mom and I have a bit of a rift in our relationship. I'm not sure what the source of it is, but it's there. When I think about our relationship, I feel like a total and complete sh*t. Excuse me for saying so. I've been a bit of a witch to my mom over the years. Not overtly, not purposely, but still. I will be immediately working on that.

My prayer is that this will all blow over and everything will be okay. That maybe this is the nudge I've needed to chuck all the baggage out the window and just wholly love my mom for who she is, flaws and all. She certainly loves me for who I am, flaws and all. I've been praying lately for something to give in out relationship and that we could somehow manage to be closer, like we used to be. Maybe this is God's answer. I have been told before to be careful what you ask for, you just might get it, but not the way you expected.

I'm hoping that in hindsight, I will see this as a Red Letter Day after all.

*Praying*

I love you, too, Baby Girl. :)

I know I just wrote the post about how Little Man initiated saying "I love you" for the first time.

This one's about you, Baby Girl.

My sweet girl loves the song, "Skinny marinky dinky dink, skinny marinky doo. III looovvve yoouu...." We sing it nearly every day, and she always sings along, especially the "I love you..." part. I mean it's mostly vowels, which are super easy for a baby to sing along to. "Eye uuu ooo." Adorable, adorable, adorable, adorable!

Today we sang the song as I was putting her down for a nap. After we were done, I gave her one last squeezy hug and laid her in her crib. We did that lovey-dovey gazing and smiling at each other for a bit, then I stroked her cheek and said, "Night, night, Baby Girl." Her reply? To take the paci out of her mouth, look into my eyes, and say in the sweetest voice I ever heard,

"I uuu ooo."

Followed by a bashful, proud smile.

Oh Baby Girl, I love you, too. I love you to pieces!

It's Gone Too Far

For breakfast - Cookie Crisp and a glass of milk with a generous shot of chocolate syrup
Snack - Jellybeans
Lunch - McDonald's Happy Meal (hamburger, fries, chocolate milk, cookies)
Snack - Pringles, Dove chocolate, more Cookie Crisp, a Kool-Aid drink (basically water, flavor, food coloring, and HFCS) and candy
Misc. - numerous undiluted sippy cups full of juice, chips, crackers and cookies here and there

A junk food addict's dream?

No.

Sadly, this is what Little Man ate at his grandma's house today. (which grandma is was doesn't really matter)

(I witnessed the afternoon snack food orgy myself. Little Man, Baby Girl, and Grandma all stuffing their faces with junk as fast as they could before I came back into the room. Really???)

I'm a bit in shock about the amount of junk, of non-food, that my sweet baby ate.

He's been miserable all night. His sugar high turned into a sugar low. He was tired, cranky, his stomach hurt. It's 9:30 at night and he's still awake and complaining of a stomach ache. He wouldn't touch his healthy dinner I made for him, even the stuff he loves.

I totally understand how a grandma would want to spoil her grandson, to give him the treats he desires. But come on, boundaries anyone? At least offer the kid some fruit with his junk.

Sheesh.

Sadly, this is pretty typical of what Little Man eats when he sees this particular grandma. The Husband and I have talked and pleaded with her not to feed him mass quantities of this non-food. A treat - sure, junk all day long - no. We've informed her of what this kind of food does to his little body. How eating non-food like this is priming him to develop diabetes and is for sure causing him to develop bad eating habits. Using the expression, "we talked until we were blue in the face" is appropriate here. Unfortunately, it's done nothing. We've also brought food over to her house, made lists of yummy, healthy snacks that Little Man loves and will eat, and gone grocery shopping with her.

It still hasn't helped, she feeds him this non-food anyway. Hasn't made a difference, not at all.

Now I know that The Husband and I aren't perfect examples of perfect eating, I'll admit to that. However, if we feed Little Man chocolate muffins for breakfast, we pair it with some fruit, and later on provide a healthy snack and lunch. Trust me, there's no deprivation in this house, but it's not a free-for-all, either.

I'm not sure what to do. I can't just let it go anymore, not at this level. Little Man sees this grandma on a regular enough basis that this kind of feeding is not acceptable. She is teaching him horrible eating habits, not the least of which is to hide what he is eating from his parents and to sneak food behind our backs. Not okay, not at all.

What to do, what to do?

I'm at a loss. Ideas anyone?

Love-o-meter Goes Through the Roof

Today, at 3 3/4 years of age, for the first time ever, Little Man initiated saying "I love you, Mommy."


Sweetest words I ever heard.


Just like a boy, to make a girl wait (and wait, and wait, and wait). It was worth it, Little Man. I love you, too.

An Addition to "Why I'm always cleaning and yet it's always a mess..."

First there's the normal stuff -

Baby Girl loves to rearrange my bookcase every chance she gets:




I guess this is normal, too, for a house with little imps -

Little Man and Baby Girl removed all the clean clothes I had neatly placed over the side of the pack n' play and dumped them on the floor. Then they moved the pn'p here and there, finally settling by the bed. The Husband later found the clothes (clean, remember!) on the floor and unceremoniously heaped them on the bed. Yes, they will have to be rewashed.

Then there's what seems like "over the top" -

You know those furry things that fall from the trees each spring? In our house we call them Woolly Worms or Twirlies. Regardless of what one calls them, I loathe them. Our dogs roll in the grass and come inside absolutely covered in them. To my dismay, this is a common sight on the couch, the bed, all over the rug, the floor, etc., in my house each spring. Shudder:

Hope you're having a good laugh, if you want more check out Part 1 and Part 2.

A Hungry Boy

At the McDonald's window a while back,

Little Man (yelling): "Hey, Lady, gimme some food!"

So unexpected from my somewhat shy, somewhat quiet young son.

So terribly cute. He was very proud of himself.

I think next we will work on a few manners. Before you know it Little Man will be saying, "Excuse me, Ma'am, may I have some food?"

Hmm, maybe not. ;)