Letters to My Girls

To Test or Not To Test. Cancer is The Question.

Dear Girls,

I went to the doctor recently to find out how much closer to menopause I am now than I was last year.  During the appointment, along with the usual tests that are ordered, I was offered a new test to determine if I have a certain cancer gene.

The test is for relatives of those who have had colon cancer, uterine and ovarian cancer, and pancreatic cancer.  The three cancers are linked, and there is a common gene that, if identified by the test, increases your chances of developing one of those cancers by as much as 70%. 

Unfortunately, I have all three of those cancers in my family, so the chances that I could test positive for this gene are reasonably high. 

Now, I'm not afraid to find out if I have that gene.  The fact is, since my dad, my sister, and my grandfather have all died from those cancers, I've been more vigilant about getting unusual symptoms checked.  I learned a long time ago that worrying about getting cancer is useless, so finding out my chances are high doesn't make a huge difference to the way I live my life. 

Nevertheless, making a decision on whether to have the test, or not, has been difficult.

Sure, if I knew I had the gene, I could be even more focused on testing and prevention.  I could have a hysterectomy to prevent the possibility of getting estrogen-based cancer.  I could get mammograms and colonoscopies more often.  There could be drug studies or treatments open to me that might not be without knowing.  You might think this is the most responsible way to respond. 

Beyond the obvious - the stress of knowing cancer would be lurking in the background for the rest of my life - there are even more difficult issues we would have to face.

It's clear that insurance companies deny claims and/or eligibility to people who cost them money.  Just because it's illegal for insurance companies to deny coverage for people who test positive for this cancer gene, doesn't mean they won't, either now or in the future.  Laws change.  The denial of coverage could wipe us out financially. 

Suddenly, the decision isn't just about me anymore. 

Then, there's the very real possibility that, if I have the gene, you may as well.  I am not only completely mentally unprepared to test you children, the idea of trying to explain to you how to hear and respond to the information is beyond daunting.  As adults, we can deal with the realities we face when it comes to our own life, illness, and eventually, death.   I can't even conceive of what it might be like to manage my own child's potential health concerns.  And, I have no idea what it would be like, as a child, to manage the constant threat of illness.  

I've asked the advice of friends and family.  And, I sit quietly with the idea of having the test.  I haven't decided yet.  I can see benefits and drawbacks to either decision.  I don't particularly want to be a martyr, but I certainly don't want to cause the mental or financial demise of my family.  I don't want to have cancer, but knowing I have the gene doesn't mean I will or won't get the disease.  We also have heart disease in my family, a deadly alternative, and I don't do much to prevent it for myself.  There are other types of cancers on dad's side of the family.  I drive a car.  I occasionally cross busy streets on foot.   I drink cola every now and then.

Making decisions isn't easy.  There are always consequences to making decisions, some foreseeable, some not.  You'll make mistakes, and learn from them. You'll change your mind. You won't always have support from others for decisions you make.   No question - these life-changing ones are tough, but infinitely, life-affirmingly, worth it. 

I love you both,

Mommy

 

Thoughts for My Izz on Her 6th Birthday

Darling Izz, 

One of the most difficult moments of motherhood was the day we dismantled the crib, signaling that the season of babies had passed and would not come again.   We made so many special preparations for you.  The perfect sheets, the perfect shade of pink, bees all 'round your room. We created a little kingdom for a tiny little life coming to join our family.  Babyhood is so very short.

I was thinking back to your birth - how incredible pregnancy was and the bond I developed with you before you were born.  As soon as I awakened from surgery, they tucked you up around my neck and I couldn't believe how tiny and warm you were - a little bundle of humanity and promise all wrapped up, with your little forehead and nose pressed against my cheek.  I spent many afternoons just enjoying the sensation of having you on my shoulder. 

So, as I walked through the Disney Store the other day, hard pressed to find anything I thought my little girl would enjoy, I realized we reached another milestone this year.  You're turning six years old, and princesses, castles, and kingdoms are starting to fade into the mists of childhood.  Is it really your last year for Ariel and Tiana?  Did I really just purchase Sally from The Nighmare Before Christmas, because I finally let you watch the movie and you are so incredibly into the fantasy of it?

When I came up to tuck you in tonight, you were playing with your dollhouse, pretending to be mommy and managing your household of dollies.  Our gift to you this year on your birthday was a doll - a big-girl doll that you'll have to take care of - and I have no doubt after watching your quiet play for a few minutes this evening, that you won't have any trouble in your new role as a responsible big kid. 

We had a birthday tea-party for you yesterday at a grown-up restaurant with all of your friends, and you were quite the hostess!  I am so proud of the way you behaved.  You were truly fascinated with the company, the tea, the cake, and just enjoying a few moments of fun that was all for you.  You were kind to all of your girlfriends and guests, and while still a little girl, I can see, in your quiet enjoyment of the afternoon, a glimmer of the woman you'll become . 

This year, your artistic talent has really blossomed and you're drawing pictures that are beautiful and logical.  You've learned to read all sorts of words and have the very beginnings of an interest in reading books for yourself.  Reading will open so many wonderful pathways to you and will add a whole new element of comprehension to your world.  I hope we can always curl up on the couch together, though,  and read stories together like we did today. 

You've become interested in dance and music, and we've encouraged that through musicals, plays, concerts, ballet classes, recordings, singing in the car...  You even choreographed a little dance the other day to a Little Mermaid song!  You're also interested in swimming and recently went rock climbing at another little girl's party.  I watch you from a distance, and see you dreaming to yourself about what is to come. 

You love Scooby Doo and I think your secret dream may be to open your own private detective agency, though you placate me by telling me you still want to be an eye doctor like you did when you were four. 

You've been so lucky to have the most wonderful teachers in your short time at school.  You've spent these past few years in a caring place, where the kids are taught to be respectful to one another. It's a warm, cozy environment.  You are concerned about everyone and demonstrate your love by giving hugs and asking after people's lives.   Your ever-increasing affinity for welcoming others and doing little things to "make their day" is an incredibly valuable skill.  At your tea-party, you made friends with ladies at adjoining tables as you frequently do in restaurants.  

You are now, and have always been, a little comedienne, your sense of humor keeping us all laughing daily - just like Dad.  I love that you think you're silly and thrive on laughter.  You've developed your own sense of style - and boy, do you know how to model clothing!  I can tell you have good taste already - just like Mom! 

So, what should we do this coming year?  Shall we bake together?  Learn to play piano?  Get manicures together?  Let's read and see new places.  Let's laugh and snuggle.  Let's talk about politics and learn about money and time.  Are you ready to start sewing?  

We may be beyond the Disney Princess stage, but after spending a few minutes mourning the passage of tulle and tiaras, I'm thinking about creating the next set of dreams with you my funny, charming young lady!  

Happy Birthday, darling Izz!  I hope this day was as special and memorable for you as it was for me! 

 

Love and Kisses,

Mommy

 

Grocery Cart Rage: The Newest SAHM Affliction Affecting Millions of Mommies

I've been working really hard lately on my issues with grocery shoppers.  I used to love grocery shopping and for awhile I even went with my best girlfriend who lived in the same apartment complex I did.  She would show me foods that I had never tried or give me cooking tips (she's a chef) and I would teach her how to dip vinegar potato chips into carmel sauce.  (OK - I"m clearly not a chef, but don't scoff until you try it!)  My girlfriend moved away, we both got married and had kids.  She's now a brilliant shopper and cook; I'm just a frustrated blogger. 

Anyway, now that grocery shopping is a utilitarian pursuit and not an artistic one, I want to get in, get out, and have a relatively painless experience.  I want to glide down the aisles and have the items I want just pop into my cart, pay for themselves, and well - while I'm at it, let's have them delivered and put away.  Then I won't have to go at all! 

It isn't that I don't like shopping, it's that I have to deal with all the shoppers.  Let's face it - we all get a little bit goofy at the grocery store.  You too?  Or, should I say, you too!  We all get focused on what it is we want, what we have to remember, and we get sidelined a great deal with holiday displays, new items, things that aren't where they're supposed to be, and small children.  In our get-it-over-with approach, we sometimes forget to be courteous and considerate in the aisles. 

To deal with my shopper frustration, I've come up with a game!  I have my own little type-list for grocery store shoppers that I use to de-stress and amuse myself.  I spot a shopper down an aisle, and try to predict just what type she (or he) falls into before I have to face her.  Here's my list:

The Snacker:  You can peg this one because he doesn't have a cart; he's just there for a snack.  He mills around the sample displays, and if he's got the kids that day while mom is off doing something else, where better to get lunch?   This is also the guy who has to get a taste of every ice cream in the case before he makes his choice. 

Frazzled Mommy:  This gal comes in hoping there isn't one of those ridiculous red plastic car carts you have to stuff the kids into so they can bite, pinch, and yell at each other the whole trip.  The carts have no turning radius and are double-wide, causing everyone in the aisles to run for their lives when they see you coming, lest they get smashed into the soup cans by some well-intentioned preschool driver.  (Yes, I know the kids don't control the cart, but if I do run into a little old lady, she doesn't know that, and will always forgive my pre-schooler, whereas she might sue me for putting a dent in her walker.)  Mom has circles under her eyes and really doesn't care what you think, so running is really the only solution. 

The Family Affair:  I'm not talking mom, dad, and kids, here. I'm talking aunts, uncles, grandparents, and second cousins.  The whole family gathers around a product and debates the price, packaging, potential date of use, and who will get the biggest share.  Don't even try to get past these people - they've rented the space and you just have to wait. 

The Stalker:  This is the woman who goes down every aisle you do, only the opposite direction, and manages to stop her cart in front of all the same products you want to buy.  Strange, but true. 

The Cart Dragger:  The one who pulls the cart from the front, trailing the back behind her.  When she stops to look at something, the back of her cart always lands in the middle of the aisle.   Why?  Because you can't control a shopping cart from the front!

The Bender:  No -not alcohol.  This is the one who bends at the waist to look at something down low, taking a step back as he does so.  His butt is too far into the middle of the aisle to pass him.  These folks travel in twos and create butt obstacle courses in the aisles. 

The Selective Hearer:  You know the one--she can't hear you say "excuse me" even if she's looking straight at you and her cart is 90 degrees to the aisle. 

The Mis-Counter:  This is the person who counts 25 separate bottles of Gatorade as one item so he can go through the 15-item express lane. 

The Crazy Couponer:  This is an addiction.  She clips coupons, has 40 of them at the register, most of which she technically can't use because she didn't bring her reading glasses to see the fine print, shakes uncontrollably as she watches the savings add up, and then argues the price of any in-store items that don't scan properly. 

The Noodler:  I live in a college town.  We have lots of noodle bowls here.  Chinese noodles.  Mac 'n Cheese.  Spaghetti-os.  Glazed, sleepless look.  Three friends trailing behind talking about booze and football.  Need I say more? 

The Performer:  Bluetooth in her ear, phone always on, and for whatever reason, she only gets as many groceries as she can hold in her two hands.  She talks on her phone the whole time, loudly, and makes sure you know she's in charge.   Just when the juicy part of the conversation starts, she starts to whisper so you can't even get a little thrill out of her oh-so-exciting life. 

The PMS'er:  I can spot this one from two aisles away.  She's shopping through a fog of bloat, bitchiness, and cravings.  She gets to the checkout counter and realizes she only has cheese balls, Coke, Twinkies, and a copy of Martha Stewart Living in her cart.  In her embarrassment, she gets even bitchier, so don't confront this woman in the parking lot. 

The "I Can't Walk Another Step...":  He either leaves his cart in the middle of the lot or gets 20 feet away from the cart-return, pushes it, and walks away,  thinking it will roll right in.  In both cases, the cart rolls, gains speed, turns, and crashes into the front side-panel of whatever car is in the way. 

I guess what's interesting about all of these categories is that I've fallen into one or the other myself pretty much every time I shop.  I've found myself mesmerized by vast selections of toothpaste, suddenly hear "excuse me" from behind, and realize my cart is in the way, my butt is pointed right into the aisle, my children have disappeared in the plastic sports-car, and I don't like the price on any of the tubes.  And, Pre-Menstrual Shopper?  If you re-arrange the letters, it's spells "Peri-Menopausal Shopper" and might just describe.....me. 

_____________________________________

Tell me your shopping stories!  I want to hear your shopping pet-peeves. Leave me a comment! 

 

Mommyhood and the Division of the Cinnamon Roll

by Lorie Fuller

So, my husband brought home my favorite Great Harvest Bread Company cinnamon rolls this morning after taking the kids to swim lessons.  I know, I know--that makes him freaking fabulous compared to some husbands, so what can I possibly complain about?

I happen to be one of those weirdos who likes the outside of the cinnamon roll better than the inside.  I like the drier, chewier parts.  So, since my husband and I met, and I introduced him to the rolls, and we started eating cinnamon rolls together, I always ate the outside; he would eat the inside.  Are you with me? 

I love sharing!  I do!  It's nice, fun, family-like behavior!  It's part of the silent, unsigned but oh-so-understood contract you unonsciously agree to when you do "the method" and get yourself impregnanted after four years of trying.  But, here's the deal:  When you get married and then have a couple of kids, those cinnamon rolls get really small!

Once in a blue moon - just once in awhile - I like the idea of eating the whole thing, all by myself, just me.  So, this morning, I picked out one of four cinnamon rolls, knowing full well I wouldn't eat the inside, knowing that I would end up sharing it.  I poured a mug of coffee, brought the cinnamon roll over to my spot at the kitchen counter, and started to unwrap it.  And the first thing that happens?  My husband expectantly hands me a knife while my panting children look on. 

My family wants me to cut up the cinnamon roll.   

First of all, cutting up a cinnamon roll is sacrilege.  A cinnamon roll is one piece of dough rolled lovingly into a large spiral with it's yummy sugary goodness inside.  The caramelized sugar peeks out from the circular edges, promising more as you unwind it to eat.  Cinnamon rolls are meant to be unwound in long strips that you dangle above your upturned mouth as you prepare to take a bite.  So, it's bad enough my family wanted to cut the poor thing into pieces to pop unceremoniously into their mouths. Can you imagine what cinnamon roll hell must be like?  It's a place where moldy whole cinnamon rolls go to laugh at the ones that are being cut up into pieces.  It's the bottom of the barrel.   

On top of that, I know I'm supposed to want to do everything as a family, and mostly I do.  But I now do four people's laundry and dishes, pick out everyone's clothing in the morning, haven't had a bath to myself in years, act as a human jungle-gym, endure constant interruptions, never get to have a private phone call, step on headless Barbies on my way to the bathroom, and have to cook four different meals each night. 

Can't I puhlllease have something all to myself, just this one time? It's not that I actually want the whole thing - it's just the idea of having it all to myself.  It's just the simple thought that I could have the whole thing, all to myself, if I wanted it. 

They know in the end I'm going to share anyway.  They know that when I get to the middle I'll give it lovingly away.  Put away the puffy lips, droopy eyes, and hunger-starved looks, and stop making me feel guilty for the want of something private and sinfully good, my way.  Just this once.  Please? 

Creative Flavors and The Art of Soothing the Upset Tummy

by Lorie Fuller

In case you've never tried Tums before, I'll just say that they are little disks of powdery stuff that you chew up and swallow to make your tummy behave when it's feeling a bit under-the-weather.  The formulas have gotten better over the years, so the powdery stuff doesn't taste like chalk anymore, and the new flavors are fabulous!

My favorite Tums came out a few years ago when Cocoa and Creme Smoothies were introduced!  You heard it right - heartburn relief that takes you back to the malt shop!  Not only do they taste good, it's a great way to get in some calcium without taking the horse pills.  Like something from the candy counter instead?  There are tropical and berry flavors, peppermint, wintergreen, orange, and a few others.  Just today, I found a bottle of Tums for children that are...cherry flavored!  

This got me to thinking about what you might be able to do with a few bottles of Tums at a really nice bar.  Those jelly bean people think they've cornered the market on combining flavors, but I've figured out how to do it, have some fun, and get your RDA of calcium at the same time! 

Here are some drinkie recipes I came up with while lost in my antacid daydreams:

1 Creme, 1 Cocoa, 2 Cherries + Kahlua: Chocolate Cherry Latte

1 Cocoa, 2 Peppermint + Chocolate Liqueur and Creme de Menthe: Peppermint Pattie

2 Mixed Berry, 2 Strawberry, 2 Berry Fusion+ Chambord: Tuttie Fruitie

1 Orange Cream, 1 Creme + White Chocolate Liqueur:  Chocolate Creamsickle

4 Tropical Fruit + Creme de Cacao + Banana Liqueur:  Tropical Paradise

The way I see it, taking Tums with alcohol cancels out the possibility of tummy upset in the morning.  If you're dieting, make dessert out of it - only 10 calories per Tum! 

Just so you know, I don't work for the nice folks at Tums, nor did they pay me for this post.  Really - I would tell you if I had a garage full of Cocoa and Creme digestive agents.  This article is really all about menopause and the odd things it does to your brain. 

**Children - absolutely don't take Tums without the consent of an adult. 

Patience

by Lorie Fuller

We took the kids up to Estes Park, CO today to take in the mountain splendor and breathe a little clean air.  One of our annual treks, Estes Park is a favorite with our daughters because we stop at what we call "Chipmonkey Point" where the wildlife is a bit tamer than it oughtta be because people feed them all sorts of goodies.  The chipmunks are particularly cute, and watching my little ones feed the frisky fellows (peanuts, no salt, of course) is a learning experience. 

My 3-yr-old is typical, unable to sit for very long with her hand extended and without talking.  It's almost impossible to get a kid to understand that to stop, sit, watch, and wait patiently is the only way to get what she ultimately wants.  She kept repeating, "Mommy, they aren't going to come!"  She would squirm, jump, and shrug her shoulders over and over again and scared away the critters every time they had just about found her.  On the other hand, the seasoned 5-yr-old took a spot on a rock, filled her hand with peanuts, waited patiently, and was rewarded. 

The day before, I was standing in line at the mall sushi bar (Sarku, Japan- Flatirons Crossing).  Sushi is just about the most healthy thing you can eat at a mall when the food court is filled with things like fried cheese, hot-dog-on-a-stick, and melted fat on a bun.  (Don't get me wrong - I like an occasional McD's just like the next guy.)  The sushi at the mall is actually made right before your eyes, to order, is reasonably priced, and as fresh as can be.

Lucky enough to be third in line watching the ladies make the sushi, fascinating in itself, I also observed the behavior of other waiting customers. Freshly prepared sushi takes awhile to create, and it ought to.  Sushi-making is an artistic endeavor and more importantly, it has to be prepared properly to keep it safe.  If you eat sushi at all, you know this to be true. 

Nevertheless, I watched one annoyed-looking person tapping her foot, arms crossed, eyes rolling, and exclaiming her frustration over the delay in being served.  When my order came up and was being handed to me over the counter, she actually pushed past me and said, "That's mine.  We've been waiting for a long time!"  She looked at me as though there was no possible way my order had come up before hers, though I can only imagine why as she had ordered after I had.  She made no apology after realizing her mistake but just stepped back and talked under her breath to her companion.   

Over the years, I've learned to be patient and polite at restaurants and other service-related businesses.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I knew how to behave in those environments from the time I was about 5.  I don't really expect my 3-yr-old to understand the behavior of a chipmunk, but I do expect the adults around me to understand what it means to wait patiently for a good thing and recognize the value of the opportunity they have, not only for the products they wait for, but the human skill and interaction it takes to make those products happen. 

I've taken a few temp jobs in my lifetime to stay afloat while waiting for other opportunities.  I've worked service-industry jobs and been treated badly.  In this economy, I imagine any one of us could find ourselves in similar positions.  Your qualifications, degrees, past salaries, and years of experience could mean nothing when you take a job just to earn a buck.  But, when you go work that temp job as a Barista at a cafe, is there any difference to how you expect to be treated in that job vs. any other?    

Not always polite or patient, I certainly understand occasional social misbehavior.  It often arises in situations where either the provider, or the customer, is misunderstood.  There's a point at which one should have experienced enough in life to know better than to rush to judgment, or behave badly.  There comes a time when it's essential to recognize the effort and time it takes to do something right.  And, knowing these things, being able to tell actual time is also a desirable skill, as, according to my watch, it was about 8 minutes from order to service anyway.  That woman's fast-food mentality just wasn't appropriate or necessary, though I imagine she's just as impatient after waiting ten seconds at McD's. 

My darling daughter wants to move to the next thing as quickly as she can right now.  I do understand, and I fight that urge myself sometimes.  I hope when she's five, she'll sit patiently for her prize, knowing it will come, and knowing it's well worth the delay.