Elvis, Kasie and one hell of a Death Week.

Moving to Memphis, TN at 23 years old was an eye-opening experience in many ways.  Sure, this “Yankee girl” had spent some time in the south – Charlotte, Charleston, Savannah…. but those places are the “east coast” south.  A fair amount of outside influences have soften the edges, rubbed clean the old and replaced with some shiny new parts.  Still genteel, still outlandishly hospitable with unbelievable food, yet somehow softer.  More open.  Breezy.  Very different from THE South.  THE South feels closed off.  Amid all of the wonderful southern traditions there is a layer of old pride.  It is stubborn, stifling, mysterious.  Always a bit mysterious…..

We arrived in Memphis during The Firm era.  The parallel of our arrival – a young banker joining the ranks of the long-standing financial institution – was never lost on us.  It wasn’t long after arriving, and already being called a damn Yankee by a very serious older {gentle}man, that the ultimate pop culture, mind-blowing event began to unfold right before our eyes.

Subtle at first, it was more of a hidden secret that slowly unfolded into the greatest people watching spectacle I could have ever imagined.  I had already seen a lot – Beale Street, Tunica Mississippi casinos, hole in the wall barbecue joints …I had even seen Graceland.  On a “regular” weekend.

The celebration of the death of Elvis takes over Memphis for an unbelievable amount of time.  10 days.  TEN DAYS.  The most loyal fans humanity has to offer come into the city happy as a puppy with two tails.  They are ready to pay homage to The King of Rock and Roll in ways you can only imagine. Sure, Elvis impersonators and blue suede shoes are the imagines that come to mind, but trust me when I say that seeing an entire family – babies through the granddaddy – pour out of van dressed in various forms of Elvis takes it all to a new level.

Elvis sets the standard in celebrations of the dead.

Never in a million years would I expect to have my own death week…my own surreal remembrance of someone who I call The Awesome Girl for so many reasons.  Every August, always aligned with the start of the school year, I find myself going back to 2005, tracking 7 days on the calendar that forever changed my life in ways I am still understanding.  I am religious about it.  My Death Week is marked Day 1, Day 2…and there is nothing in the word that keeps me from remembering, as best as I can anyway.   Truly, for the trauma of the events that unfolded, I remember far more than I ever thought I would.  And thank GOD I do because it is my way of honoring a woman who I loved and admired deeply.  Some say I torture myself emotionally, reliving details, walking around on the verge of tears….but how else do you handle the loss of a BFF?  At 32.  With a 2 year old.  And pregnant with Baby Elizabeth.  Who had a husband and a career and friends and family….. It is not torture – It is an honor.

It has now been 10 years.  Nine times I have walked this memory path with Kasie’s family and friends.  What I have realized is that the memories of that week are sacred to me.  What the week brought to Phil, Kasie’s parents and family…..it is truly incomprehensible.

I know now that losing Kasie holds more for me than just a tragedy and a yearly death week.  Much like Kasie there is beauty and love and magic….there is loyalty, humor, and just a bit of insanity in these memories.

This story, Kasie’s story, has been sitting on my keyboard just waiting to be shared, for years.  When I allowed myself to take the risk and share my family’s journey on a blog, it was only from drawing strength from Kasie.  She was a risk taker, a believer in herself, a cheerleader for her loved ones and friends….she would have said to me “Do this girl!  It will be AWESOME!!”  And I am starting to believe she may just be right.  But perhaps it isn;t my story alone….perhaps it is OUR story that should be shared.

Tonight we are going to celebrate the memory of a remarkable woman – someone who lived life with enthusiasm, believed in the pure gold value of family and friends, loved her son the tater tot to the moon and back…..someone who deserves more than anyone (even Elvis, King of Rock and Roll) her own Death Week.  Maybe we will come in sundresses found at Marshall’s for a song (ok, maybe not Bobby…wait…that would be hysterical!!)…..we will most certainly all come with love and daisies in our heart.

It’s time to talk about Kasie and the lessons she gives freely to all of us every single day.  She deserves nothing less.

Love you girl!

He’s Losing His Hair and I am Losing My Sh&t!

I have 3 totally irrational fears. I used to talk to my kids at school about these as a way to open up discussion for what we are really afraid of in life. I have NO doubt that someone could analyze these issues and provide me insight. Not interested. Sorry. No comment on deep seeded problems needed – I have plenty of rational fears without worrying about these. I learned from years of working with adolescents and teens that they love to see vulnerability. They want to connect in ways that are real and know on some level they are not alone. Oh, right, so do adults…..  We all have crazy in the closet – all of us. I’ll show you my crazy if you show me yours……

I am terrified of tidal waves. Not the aftermath or the impact so much but rather the sense of doom…..Looking out at the ocean and seeing an enormous swell build and build. I never quite get to the crashing part, just the anticipation of it.

And bears. Not in the tidal waves or on the beach but just lurking around…. Looking up on a run and seeing a bear nearby. Or knowing that I am in my house and they are OUT THERE….. Damn bears. Sneaky little mothers…

Madness. I’m afraid of going mad and not knowing it. I joke that I am afraid I am the person walking down the street or in the grocery store having full on imaginary conversations out loud. And I don’t know it!  It’s possible, right? I catch myself talking out loud sometimes. What if that is just the tip of the iceberg? My head is a noisy place most of the time. Maybe some of that noise leaks out…. While going mad, can you even know what is happening? Is the madness so all consuming, so concrete and real, that you don’t even know…can’t even be told what is happening? Is writing about madness the first indicator of madness!?

I am pretty sure I have not gone mad yet…but I do lose my shit from time to time.

Let’s tackle this past week – radiation decides that it is about time to let the world know, in an in-your-face, can’t-deny-it way, that Eric is being treated for a brain tumor. This is a first. Never before have my EYES shown me what me head knows is true – my husband has a brain tumor. And my heart…well my heart was broken.

That small little bald spot grew like kudzu. Fast and furious until it was a big ‘ole patch on the side of his head. It had to go. Patchy bald spots are substantially worse than a fully shaved head we both agreed. And so it went.

I could not care less about hair. It means nothing to me (ask Lauri Ann,my hair stylist…my favorite request for her is that she not cut my hair too short because I need to pull it up nearly everyday in what I call my cancer ponytail). But I do care about giving this brain tumor an audience. Attention. A stage. That is what made me lose my shit. I had to see it staring back at me. I have to see people look at Eric and know they wondered….choice or necessity? I see the shock in a person’s eyes. It is quick for some – just a fleeting flicker of being caught off guard. Others avert their eyes completely (really? c’mon.) I don’t blame anyone – I am still caught off guard sometimes.

So my heart was broken. I was sad. I felt like I was losing my shit and getting close to mumbling out loud in Whole Foods….and then I healed.

I acknowledged my hurt. I welcomed it in and let it stay for a bit. No denial. No push to suck it up and be strong. No pressure to stop thinking about it. I let it be. I accepted it. I cried easily and a lot.

And then I loved on it….

Yep. I loved on that hurt and heartbreak. I took away its power by showing it, and myself, love. When it was time I wiped my tears, woke up the next morning and chose love. It came in the form of creating a really funny picture collage of Eric’s bald head, alongside Pitbull and Dr. Evil, and posting it as a way to show our friends and family our new “look”. Humor and laughter and love. Take that tumor!

I focused HARD on the children God has given me to love. Always, always AK and C and their friends and our family….but I am speaking of other children, children in desperate need of my time, talent and treasures. My Rockstars. I turned every bit of my heartache and worry and concern into love for them.

• Ashlyn who needed physical strength this week so we asked our community for prayers and inspiration. We surrounded her with “You go girl” and “Kick that cancer booty”. She is now out of the hospital and getting stronger every minute at home.  She has a key necklace from Rohr Rockstars with the word “love” engraved as a reminder that she holds the key to unlock any door she wants because she is surrounded by love.
• Monique who desperately needs an adult in her life that believes in her and will help her get her HS diploma.  I promised her I will be there to get those credits, meet with her school, teach her to count money….I gave her my phone number and we text now.  She tells me how much she wants an education.  Her key has notches – the ups and downs of life – but it still works.  It can still open the doors – it is never too late.
• Dyasia, the little whippersnapper, who snuggled and cuddled on my lap because having someone read to her is a rare treat.  I read to her this week, played pretend with some string and water and a cup and had worms as pets.  I’ll hold on to her Rockstar key until she is ready….

It is OK to lose your shit.  It happens.  The real work, the real “stuff” is in the recovering.  How are you transitioning from one mindset to another?  What are you doing with that negativity?

Far be it from me to assume I know anything except my experience BUT….I think true happiness comes from the space that is created in your heart and soul when you reach out to others in need.  It is taking your own shit and finding focus elsewhere.  It is being kind to your own heart and allowing it to hurt and then choosing to move beyond.  It is not in denial – I still feel the same way about Eric’s bald head – but I do know that my time of allowing those feelings to take up my time are gone.  They now come and go, acknowledged, but set free.

Want to CRUSH a brain tumor? Refuse. And Move.

My husband is having daily radiation and chemo.  I choked on those words the first couple of weeks.  I sat on pins and needles waiting.  Waiting for him to feel sick.  Waiting on him to be tired.  Waiting on him to…change.  Just waiting.  And then, as with every part of this journey, I found my new (again) footing.  I found it in the stories he brought home from his radiation visits.  I found it in the friendships he was making with everyone at Levine.  I found it in the jokes he was cracking, the love he was giving and the life he was leading.  As I always do, I found all my strength in Eric.  I found my strength in our love for one another, for our children, for our life and most definitely I found strength in our laughter.

Three recent moments have fortified me and allowed me to shift from waiting to living – all occurred during yoga (yeah, no surprise there.  seriously y’all, yoga is the bomb.)  One was a sense of being of surrounded by STRENGTH.  The word filled my head and my heart and gave me incredible peace.  I am strong.  Eric is strong.  Y’all are strong for us.  I came home to tell Eric and as it turns out he experienced a very similar moment (different message) at the same time.  Never doubt the power of the Holy Spirit to give exactly what you need when your heart is open to receiving.

The second moment came when I was checking my phone during yoga.  Don’t judge.  I have a husband with a brain tumor, and I grant myself permission to check my phone any damn time I want – even during yoga! 🙂  He told me he REFUSED to be tired from the radiation (even if his hair was beginning to fall out).  I focused on that word the rest of class – it became my intention for 90 minutes of movement.  An excellent word and one I find myself reflecting on often.  What can we refuse?  We can refuse negativity.  We can refuse to give up.  We can refuse to back down.  We can refuse to stay silent.  We can refuse to run away.  We can refuse defeat.  It is an empowering word – a word of choice and strength.  We refuse.  And when we refuse the negative, the ugly, that which does not serve us in a positive way….then what?  We MOVE.  We move toward the positive.  We move toward action.  We move toward joy.  We move into peace.

The last moment is actually one I experience every single time I go to my yoga studio.  It is quite amazing really.  Here I am with a group of once strangers who now feel like family.  I have become very close to some, others I know by their first names.  Still others I know their face and we smile.  We have a rhythm.  We have a shared purpose and connection.  It is simply the safest place I have ever felt.  The magic to me is alive within that space.  I laugh every day.  Every day there is something funny, something joyful and pure.  Laughter.  It lightens my soul and brings me happiness.  Once I began to see it, I started to crave it.  Along with all the other wonderful yoga benefits, I have a place that I can laugh every day.

I’m not waiting anymore for the bad stuff to happen.  I have found my STRENGTH to REFUSE and to MOVE toward LAUGHTER.  That is how you crush a brain tumor!

Blogging strategery :: 10 easy tips for writing the best blog EVER (and how to not give a sh&t about a brain tumor)

First, strategery is not a word. Neither is irregardless.

Secondly, there are no 10 magical tips for the best blog EVER. There is no best blog EVER. There is only your blog. And if you don’t think you are rocking that shit then you have a problem….

Oh, yes, there are not 5 effortless steps to happiness, or thin thighs, or perfect children, either.

There are, however, title templates that seem to be working. It’s a marketing trend in the blog/article world – the essential, top, easy, magical, life-altering, salvation-inducing top tips for anything. Really? We have to stop being so EASY, y’all.

(a little gem from Facebook this morning…)

Considering how much people fascinate me, blogging itself has become a very unexpected source of inspiration and insight. If you have a blog then you know you can learn ALOT about what people want to read, what they do not want to read, as well as a million other little things. Here is what I have found out about YOU dear readers…. (And you thought you were just spying on MY life – ba ha ha ha)

Facebook and Twitter are the best marketing tools available.

Hey, I am right there with you. It is sad that on many days, Facebook is as far as I get in term of world news. (I follow CNN…it counts). Did you know I can see that you clicked from Facebook? And that I can see which posts you read and how often? Nope, you didn’t have to sign in or sign up….the Internet knows EVERYTHING…..and now I know a lot more….. Scary? It should be. I mean, keep reading my stuff because I am safe and witty and inspiring….but just know you are part of a big info-gathering, statistic and marketing machine.

While we are on the subject, Facebook is a nightmare for innocent, sweet bloggers like myself who just want to make the world a better place. It would be awesome if you would click a like or share button from time to time. It’s a complicated game to play, so thanks in advance.

People give a shit about brain tumors but not spirituality.

Most most popular post to date….”Why I No Longer Give a Sh*t About My Husband’s Brain Tumor”

My least popular post by far to date…”Finding My Spirituality {in spite of my religion}”

Finding joy and happiness seem to resonate (which is great because I have a lot to say on the subject) as does the ever popular topic of raising kids. Again – lots to say so I should be able to stay in business…

Big Lesson – steer clear of religion (if you are looking for increased traffic). I’ll still write about it – spirituality at least – because it means something to me. Most of you won’t read it.

Here is my challenge to you :: don’t just go for the blogposts that have the snappy titles or a subject matter that interests you on some level. Click on the stuff you don’t know about, read the posts that have no connection to your life, challenge your beliefs by reading about others. Not everyday, not every time. But once in awhile read about yoga even if you think it is a crock of shit……

People search for weird stuff on Google

A picture speaks a thousand words….This is my favorite search EVER!!!

 

Your loyal readership is making me RICH

I’m a sellout, I’ll admit it.  How could I possibly turn down a way to make some money while doing something that I love to do….. So yes, those tiny ads on my blog pay me money.  Lots and lots of money.  Keep clicking – I am soooooo close to retiring.

Actually, I am becoming rich.  Every single time I write something and you read it (whether you come to me from Facebook or Twitter, search Google or only read about brain cancer) I become rich.  I have met people (even if it is only virtually) that have touched my soul with their stories and inspiration.  I’m just like you – looking for hope and love and inspiration in a world that seems bat shit crazy.  Thank you for reaching out to me,  Thank you for reading about my life’s journey.

I can’t promise I won’t try to hook more of you with catchy titles and strategic subject matter….but I can promise I will continue to write about what speaks to my soul.  I hope you follow along and invite others to join us.

Thanks for the ride this far – it’s been WILD!!

 

 

 

Screw Perfection :: Choose Practice

I am starting to believe that “perfect” may be the ugliest, most vulgar, and destructive word in our language.

In life there is not a perfect anything {Chase, my 12-year-old son, would argue for the perfect game in baseball….ok, fine. You got me there}. But other than something completely dependent upon statistics, perfection simply does not exist. Why then, dear friends, do we insist upon striving for something that isn’t real?

Teaching at an all girls schools in Memphis, TN in the mid 1990s was the best professional, and in many ways personal, experience in my life. Never before had I had the pleasure of being surrounded by so many girls and women. It was beautifully female 24/7…..I was drinking the Kool-Aid of single gender education and boy was I hooked. These girls and young women were spectacular. They came to school to learn and to achieve and to grow and to lead and to succeed. The standards were high. The girls rose higher. This is how to raise our daughters.

Years upon years in middle school classrooms have given me an awareness into not just beautiful adolescents, but our larger world. They are little mirrors of the million things that are right and the million things that are wrong in the world around them. We don’t watch them closely enough. We are far too quick to dismiss them because of their age, or their immaturity, or their hormones….. But they are, and they live, truth.

Perfection in our girls rears its ugly head and wreaks havoc far too often in their young lives. Perfect grades. Perfect shoes. Perfect binder organization. Perfect hair. Perfect color coded notes. Perfect skin. Perfect attendance. Perfect life. A young woman in the choke-hold of perfection is one of the most heart wrenching tug of wars you will ever see. There is a battle deep, deep down in her soul that consumes her every thought.  And it isn’t just our teenagers, is it?  I see it everywhere around me in my own peers. Perfect family, perfect home, perfect marriage, perfect life….  This ideal world we design in our minds stops us from being REAL.  And if we can’t be REAL I suspect we can’t find the elusive HAPPINESS we all desire.

I cannot help but notice how many articles, books, posts are written around the theme of finding happiness.  (Trust me the irony of that statement is not lost one me).  I have declared over and over again that my husband’s brain tumor has been my gateway to finding my happiness, my true joy.  I have thought and thought a lot about why that is, and I can only come to one conclusion…..I just don’t give a shit about most things anymore.

I no longer strive for the perfect house, the perfect children, the perfect body… I understand that all of it is a farce.  Fake.  NOT REAL.  I just want to be real.  I want things around me to feel real.  REAL lets me know I am alive.  REAL inspires me.  Real can’t be faked, and it sure as hell is not perfect.

I would love to replace how we perceive the attainment of our goals (and the goals we set for our children) to shift thinking away from perfection and towards the idea of practice.  My fellow yogis out there are smiling a little because we know, don’t we?  Hold on though, this is not just a “yoga thing”.  It is simply a lesson that can be cultivated from the practice of yoga.  Yoga is never, will never and does not ever strive to be perfect.  There is no end game.  No finish line or perfect time or promotion or raise.  It is simply a practice. (ok, not so simple but I won’t get on my yoga soapbox in THIS post)

How awesome if our children practiced skills needed to be life-long learners?  How spectacular if we practiced being the best parents we can be?  What if we practiced being a good wife or friend or community member?  What if we used our strengths and practiced the art of creating a new business venture? Do you feel it?  The relief of practicing.  Maybe you could practice writing a blog (no don’t, I don’t need the competition).

Think about how freeing it is to say I practice having a great life.  No perfection, just practice.  Fall down?  Keep practicing.  Mess up?  Keep practicing.  Fail?  Keep practicing.  And what if you knew everyone around you was just….practicing.  Whoa.  Mind-blowing.  Life-altering.

The unattainable is everywhere we look.  And our girls….oh our poor girls…. not only do they see the unattainable perfection, they now live in a world where they have to also show their perfect selves.  Instagram, Vine, Snapchat, Facebook…..What if we changed their conversation in their heads.  No more perfect anything.  Just a life in practice.

Wow.

When do we get a trophy for having a brain tumor?

I keep looking in the mail everyday, but no one has sent me a medal for this blog. I haven’t even recieved a certificate to hang on the fridge for participating. Oh sure, people have told me they love reading it and have been unbelievably supportive. I know I am doing what I am passionate about, I am doing my best, and I am making an impact. But where is my token of success to show everyone I am a winner? I want my trophy. Or a decal for my car.

No, I don’t.

I’m tired of my children getting accolades for mediocrity, too. (Sorry this blog isn’t mediocre- it is awesome. Bad comparison). And my kids are anything but mediocre. However….yesterday Chase was awarded a medal for his baseball team going 1-2 in a tournament. Really? One win? How about a medal to the kid who stopped to be sure the other team’s catcher was ok when his hand was accidentally hit by the bat? What about recognizing him? Are we so bound by the belief that we have to recognize everyone or no one that we can’t even be authentic in our praise?

I have become unbelievably sensitive to my kids developing some Grit and Moxie. My two new favorites words…. Grit for the boy, Moxie for the girl. Sure, they could both have Grit, or both have Moxie, but I love the two words equally.

They are growing up with a father who has terminal brain cancer. Through no fault of their own, they right away have to have Grit & Moxie. They will need it because life is not always sunshine and roses. And they aren’t the only ones…

I have thought a lot lately about resilience. A statement I get all the time is, “I don’t know how you and Eric are doing it. If I were facing what you are facing, I’d be under the covers or in the corner sucking my thumb.” Actually, I probably would have said the same things at other points in my life. I could not have imagined what I needed to not just survive, but thrive, over the past three and a half years. In the future I will need even more of this intangible Moxie thing . I know I have it, and it isn’t because anyone has told me, or given me a trophy or a pat on the back. It is because I have fallen down and been able to get back up again. Resilience is learned.

I think we are failing our kids. We are giving them a distorted sense of self and what accomplishment means. We are giving them too much; they are not earning enough.

It happens on the fields, in our schools, at home…. kids are not being allowed to fail {safely}. When you read inspirational stories, or Pin quotes designed to lift and propel and aspire to achieve greatness, the theme is pretty obvious…. Nike is a master at marketing this idea. “Just Do It” is pure business brilliance but there is something else there….a challenge to find the Grit & Moxie inside.

photo courtesy of carolina-coast.tumblr.com via Pinterest

I want the absolute best for my kids just like all parents. I want them to have the best possible education, to live in a safe neighborhood, and to travel and experience the world around them. I want them to play on sports teams and to spend time with their friends and to enjoy these fleeting, carefree years. And I want them to develop Grit & Moxie that will carry them through the rest of their lives as they aspire to provide the same things for their kids.

We handle the f-ing brain tumor the way we do for them as much as for us. We need them to see that life is beautiful in the face of adversity and, no matter what, we get up.

The only way they know they can get up is if they fall down from time to time in the first place.

To be continued……

A Whole Lot of Weed{s} and a Little Bit of Denial….How to Cope with Your Husband’s Brain Tumor

We were sailing right along until….we weren’t.

Two amazing kids, happy and healthy, a ridiculously lovable yellow lab, a house on the best street in my favorite neighborhood, a career I loved, loads of friends and family – all that was missing was the proverbial white picket fence. Life was easy shmeasy. I didn’t really realize what I had. Few do. There are always annoyances and challenges to consume our minds and divert our attention. It’s the rub for us all, isn’t it? It takes a jolt to see what’s right in front of us. I surely got mine!

If you looked at the top of this blog you will see I have a love-hate relationship with Pinterest. I absolutely hate how much I love it. One of my 267 boards I have created is set aside to pin quotes. A sucker for a good inspirational message, I have accrued hundreds upon hundreds of snappy little message in cool fonts with great aesthetic appeal. This is not one of them.

Stupid cartoon charters sending kids chipper messages ….. As a [sometimes] cynical adult it makes me what to give Garfield the finger. Odie, too.

Inspiration – emotional, spiritual, intellectual – is a really essential part of a full life. It is why we love the human interest stories from the Olympics in many ways more than the Olympics themselves. We want inspiration, and we need inspiration. Hell, it is why I am writing this blog – to inspire on some level. We want and need to know there is more to be had than rolling out the garbage cans, trolling kids’ Instagram accounts for racy selfies, and swiffering the crumbs after breakfast, snack, lunch, snack, dinner, and bedtime snack.

When life hits you with a left hook out of nowhere, what do you do? You get back up. (Please refer to my Quotes board on Pinterest for the appropriate inspirational messages). But before you do, do me one favor. Fall down.

There is an ugly side to resilience. Too often we want to tell ourselves, and others, about how ok it will be…eventually. And it will. But before that, before you start drying the tears and pulling on your big girl panties, drop to your knees and be a beautiful disaster. I did.

I’m not saying I’m a trendsetter but……

I binge-watched Netflix long before House of Cards.

In the winter of 2010-2011 I didn’t really have my shit together. Ok, I didn’t have my shit together. At all. Eric had a brain tumor. I took a leave from teaching because at that time I had no clue what was ahead. Literally overnight I lost my life. I’m not saying that in a selfish way, it is simply the truth. Suddenly I was at home all day – alone. And I was losing it.

I became best friends with a gal named Nancy Botwin. Seriously, she and I were tight. Funny enough, her husband dropped dead unexpectedly, and she was left alone raising two young kids – Shane and Silas. We had so much in common….a match made in heaven. I really looked to her for inspiration to get through tough times. She had a ….unique approach. Why not start a marijuana business in the suburbs, marry a Mexican drug lord, watch your son commit murder, go to jail and a halfway house, and live happily ever after? Blissful escape from my own life. I would not have survived without a serious dose of Weed{s} everyday. How bad did it get? I would arrive early at school carpool to sit in the car and catch up with the Botwins on the iPad. Head down, sunglasses on.

Trend. Setter.

I can still be a hot mess somedays. I’ve been known to crawl under the covers from time to time. I have days that nothing gets done, and I waste time and I don’t care about much. I function, but barely. And I allow myself these moments. I’m not hard on myself or critical or embarrassed. Life is HARD. Let it be hard. It’s ok to be weak. You have to be weak before you can grow stronger. You must heal from time to time.

I decided to make my own inspirational poster. Hope you like it – I think I’ll Pin it later.

Lessons of a Shamrock Shake

I derive a lot of joy sharing with my kids the things that excited me when I was their age. Simple things, really. It is why I go over the moon for snow in the winter. I grew up sledding, building igloos, ice skating on ponds – I know the magic of a snow day. I want them to know that magic, too. The whole world stops just for them to play, clothes are endlessly dried out, hot cocoa is all over the countertops, and everything truly seems right in the world. We were lucky this winter with a solid, three day long southern snow. They built a sledding ramp, the dog went crazy running up and down the street and our snowman was even knocked down by little pranksters. Perfect.

In my eyes my childhood can be summarized in one word – idyllic. All I want for them is when they are 40 to look back and see their childhood as idyllic, like I see mine. What a gift to give them.

Two all beef patties, special sauce lettuce cheese….

McDonalds used to be a really BIG deal to me. It’s funny looking back on it now, but I got all jazzed up about going to McDonalds as a kid. I was lucky enough to have two sets of grandparents who lived near me, and my Mam and Pap were always up for a good McDonalds trip with us. Mam and Pap were always up for anything really. In my memory Pap always had the Big Mac – we sang the song and even tried to recreate the “special sauce” at home. Notice it wasn’t about that toy in the Happy Meal. Although I surely begged for it, that wasn’t what I remember.

I have to say McDonalds doesn’t quite do it for me anymore – my kids will likely remember Bojangles as our go to fast food (how lucky are they!). When it is Shamrock Shake time though, I just can’t help myself. That was the ultimate treat. It was something special – it was green for goodness sakes! Today I decided to take Chase and his friend Jackson for Shamrock Shakes after school. I was not disappointed by their reaction- had I never done this before??? Green, non-vegetable food is inherently exciting for 12 year old boys – throw in whipped cream and you have a winner. Grimace is gone from the cup and now it is from McCafe (what the …..?) but there is still a bit of Irish magic.

Teachable Moments

I went into this little outing assuming that a small piece of my childhood would be shared, and they would have a snack before baseball. End of story. As we pulled out to drive home there was man at the next stop light holding a sign that said “I’m homeless. Please help.” In my mind, in a split second, I thought about our blessings. I can pick my kids up everyday from school, I can take them for a treat whenever I choose, I am driving a safe and reliable car…. time for a life lesson. I glanced over and saw both boys looking at the man. While not unusual in Charlotte, it is not so common that it doesn’t catch their attention. I said, “You know what boys? I have a granola bar in my bag I’d didn’t eat today…should I give it to him?” I got some shrugs, some mumbles of sure….so I rolled down the window. (I had a sense of where this exchange would go but I kept my thoughts to myself). I gave the man the granola bar with a smile and said, ” I hope this helps.”

Give.

“Mom. He didn’t even say thank you. Actually he was kind of rude.”

No, son he didn’t. And that is ok. I didn’t give him a granola bar to receive praise and thanks. If he is homeless and he is in need, then our granola bar will be a blessing. If he isn’t, then maybe it won’t be. But that is not on me or on us. We gave. End of story.

Why should we expect praise and adoration for something we are doing to benefit another? Why should we get a pat on the back? We shouldn’t.

Going through our journey with Eric’s brain tumor has given me many gifts, including being even more aware of opportunities to create memories with the kids, but perhaps more importantly to deliver life messages. I know my childhood, my family, and how I was raised is what has given me strength during the darkest of days. Look for the opportunities to teach your kids the lessons you want them to hold in their hearts- even a Shamrock Shake can be a blessing in disguise.

Why I no longer give a sh*t about my husband’s brain tumor…..

As the nurse put her arm around my shoulder and walked me to the doors leading out of the ER, I knew that was the moment my life would change permanently, and it would never go back to what it was before.  There was a mass in my husband’s head.  He was being taken by ambulance to a larger hospital in town, and I had to get in my car and actually drive to the ICU.  Surreal.

That was over five years ago, and the lessons I have learned about life, love, faith and hope are endless.  I know this with 100% certainty – I am living my best life.  Right here and right now.  This is THE only life I am going to get, and it is fully up to me to decide how I will live it.

The first thing I decided to do was to stop giving a shit about that mass in my husband’s head.  It hasn’t been easy, and it doesn’t work perfectly every single day.  Realizing certain things about life has been an immeasurable blessing and a true Gift.  Five years in and here is the first, and most  important thing I have come to realize.

Humor Saves Lives.

Or at least it staves off mental breakdowns.  If you don’t have a sense of humor, I HIGHLY suggest getting one.  There is nothing, and I mean nothing, that can survive a good attack of laughter.  Even a well placed chuckle can be liberating.

I am lucky in that I am married to the funniest man I have ever met.  Ever.  In fact I think it will be what I miss most about him.  Nothing is off limits – sometimes that can get a bit annoying after 20 years of marriage – but ultimately that means nothing is that important.  Seriously, there is NOTHING in this life that is so important that you can’t give yourself the gift of laughter.  Not even an incurable brain tumor.

From the very beginning, on that fateful night in the ER, life has given us a lot to laugh about.  Let’s go back to when I was walking out of the ER with the nurse, in shock about what was happening around me.  She was a little older than me and had already shown us that perhaps a professional life in the ER had started to take its toll on her sensibilities.  Nicest gal, though.  She was ushering me out to my car and offering her words of support (I wonder how often she sees a 39 year old man diagnosed with a brain mass on her watch?)  I do know from that conversation that she does see, apparently, a lot of syphilis come through.  In her sweet southern accent, arm wrapped firmly around my shoulders, she said confidently in my ear…

Honey, don’t worry too much.  I see this ALL the time.  Men come in here, spots in their brain.  And it is nothing more than a case of  the syphilis.  Now usually they have more than one {spot} so that is good news for you, sweetie.  But mark my words, this is nothing more than syphilis.

What?  WHAT??  What did you just say to me?  No worries, it is just a case of a sexually transmitted disease..all will be well with the world?!

Looking back, that was the gateway for how we have chosen to treat this tumor – with irreverence and humor (hey, humor rhymes with tumor – how about that!).  Why should I be polite about something that threatens the life I have built?  Why should we tiptoe around it and put it on a pedestal?  We don’t.  We take away its power every single day by laughing at it, making fun of it and making sure that everyone knows WE DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT THE BRAIN TUMOR.

There is no doubt that along the way we have shocked some people with our humor, we have certainly offended some people with our jokes, sometimes we make people uncomfortable with what we say….oh, we don’t really give a shit about that either.  This is our tumor and if we want to minimize it, that is exactly what we will do.  You can either lighten up and laugh along or you can pretend to at least.  We won’t change because this tumor is ours to do with what we like.

What is your brain tumor?  Is there something in your life you can minimize through laughter, put in its place and declare that it will not impact the life you choose to lead?  I hope my children look back and remember the light and laughter we have filled our house with — the humor that kicks this tumor to the curb every day.  I know they are happy.  I know they don’t worry.  I know they see Mom and Dad having a great time every day.  Shoot, even Chase realizes that when my cooking isn’t up to par, maybe Dad can seize again and our friends can bring some good food to our house for dinner for a few days…..

we are not deluded – we are just f*** ing happy!

This would have been the PERFECT Valentine’s Day gift – how wonderfully spot on after 19.5 years of marriage! I may frame it and put in on my bedside table right beside our wedding photo.

Stark contrast to yesterday’s post? Maybe. Absolutely true most days? You betcha.

Eric and I got married very young, 23 years old.  Barely.  We were the first of our friends to get married, and we were all clueless.  Babies.  The biggest regret for getting married so young? We got screwed on the gifts. We really, really did. As we went though our twenties we attended more weddings, clued into the social guidelines surrounding weddings and wedding gifts, and saw our incomes rise….a lot. And Eric and I realized we absolutely got bamboozled by our friends! The creme de la creme of “barely-out-of-college-and-dirt-poor” gifts came from a group of four fraternity brothers. They scraped their collective funds (assuming it was change found in the cushions of the rust colored corduroy couch) and went together to honor us with 3 Christmas ornaments. From Belk. Sentimental meaning? Nah. Desperation? Yep. Total investment – $20. Priceless.

Living in Memphis, TN with only each other to really rely on, we truly grew up together. Luckily we tolerated each other well….we still do. I would say that neither of us are particularly easy to live with (although certainly one of us is easier than the other). We are both first born, type A, opinionated and competitive. We value humor as a way to survive the day, and we can be relentless when it comes to each other. I think we frighten people sometimes with our back and forth. It isn’t exactly bickering….but it comes darn close. There is never any malicious intent, it is simply what we do. When you mix in our massive differences – OCD vs ADD, wound tight vs laid back, smart vs brilliant (ha ha ha), some days tolerance is like winning a gold medal.

I know without a doubt that loving tolerance is all I ever want from this marriage – is it the pinnacle of a successful long term relationship. I have never wanted to be coddled and spoiled. I don’t want to be doted on, and I don’t want my kids seeing me that way. I always want to be challenged.

So here we are, nearly 20 years of marriage and dealing with a brain tumor that has no cure and really no treatment (or none that actually work). I know that some people think we are in denial (Uh oh! Yep, someone told me you said that!!!). I can promise you the last thing we are is in denial. We are simply fucking happy to be tolerating each other every single day. We have strong faith, incredible families, amazing friends, and lots of love. But we do not have denial. We choose to love and tolerate, to push and pull and we choose to be our own version of normal. It is survival.

Tolerance is the key to marriage – laughter is the life raft.

Dealing with a brain tumor is a lot of things [like it totally SUCKS] – but it is not UNFAIR

Filed away from my years of teaching middle school students is my list I call “Things you will never hear in a corporate board room….” Little nuggets that, said in respectable society, would astound and amaze, and yet in the alternate universe that is a middle school, were simply priceless. Many, many came out of my mouth, others out of theirs.

Hey Mrs.Rohr, is Uranus filled with gas?

(Quick aside – planetary studies involving Uranus have produced some the heartiest belly laughs I have ever had. To read a fictional travel pamphlet created by a fifth grade boy about the many pleasures to be found on Uranus is a rare treat in life.)

Mrs. Rohr – I think it is pretty cool that you made your hair frizzy today since we are starting electricity. It looks like you stuck your finger in a socket.

(Another quick aside – I did nothing special to my hair in preparation for the electricity unit. Humph.)

Of course I dispensed my own gems, nothing like my dear, dear friend and teaching partner Judy could whip out at a moment’s notice, but I held my own. I cannot think of a place that requires a heartier sense of humor more than the middle school classroom. Ok, well maybe the ER with your husband who is doped up on anti-seizure medication and loudly proclaiming a whole host of inappropriate activities occurring in the side rooms in the hospital. Actually THAT requires some humor. Luckily I have a huge one (sense of humor that is).

Anyway, those little {pre} pubescent devils can be so outrageous, so daring, so inconsiderate, so endearing , so hysterical…..they are just “so” everything. I miss them everyday. I also know that without my time with each and every one of them I would not have been able to handle my husband’s brain tumor diagnosis in the same way.

If you read my last post you know that Eric and I have chosen humor to diffuse and diminish any power his brain tumor has on our lives. It is not the only powerful force in our lives, in fact there are a lot of pieces in this coping puzzle. For me, something I used to say, and believed in wholeheartedly as a teacher, has become a bit of a mantra for me during this cancer journey.

Fair is not always equal.

Eric’s brain tumor SUCKS but it is not unfair. Fairness, my life being on an even playing field with everyone else’s, has nothing to do with this. If I accepted that terminal brain cancer was unfair, then I have to accept the idea that it has power over how I live my life. I am the only one who has power over my life. I make the choice, each and every day, about how I will respond to challenges, victories and everything in between. I can choose to allow disappointments to fester and label them as unfair, therefore relinquishing my control, or I can find acceptance and inspiration through those challenges.

Think about when you label something in your life as “unfair”. It is a slippery slope, my friends. It leads to excuses and circumvents the power we all have over our own lives. And what about kids? How are they viewing fairness in their lives? How often do they use the excuse that someone else, something else, is making their lives unfair? Resilience and moxie – that’s what challenges should give us.

Life is going to throw punches. Why not punch back?