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

 

Between the Stirrups

So, that guy - the one with the white jacket and blue face-mask?  The one whose eyes are smiling at  you from beyond the white drape, holding just beyond your sight a long, thin tube with some stuff in it?  The one who you might have fantasized about once or twice because, after all, he will ultimately be the one who impregnates you?  The one who is about to bill you $10K for the next five minutes of his time? 

Yeah - that one! 

This is what he's not going to tell you about the baby he's about to put in your belly and what happens to you as a result:

-  You will bake approximately 18 dozen cupcakes by the time the child is 5 years old. (Exception:  Those who get the cupcakes at the bakery, slide them into a pan filled with "Ariel" paper liners, and swish a bit of canned frosting on top, all in the interest of appearing as though it matters that they should look home-made.)

-  You will stress over teacher's gifts every year for the rest of your child's schooling.  (Should I do this or that?  Did I spend too much?  Are the other mommies doing gifts?  Will it be tacky if I sew something? Once I do this, does it set a precedent for next year?)

-  If you have a C-section, unless you have cosmetic surgery insurance, the area between your breastbone and bikini line will have numerous saggy bits that fold over or hang down lifelessly, like dead turkey skin.

-  You will be pee'd and pooped upon in the most extraordinary of circumstances,  however, the hormonal changes will render you incapable of being grossed-out or angry, and will leave you viewing everything through very Seuss-like, pinkish colored glasses.

-  After having seen a few Disney movies, your child or children will remind you that you're fatter, uglier, or meaner than the Queen in Alice in Wonderland.  All done, of course, with a sweet, innocent, and helpful little smile.

-  Your "slam dunk" choice of toys, books, games, dolls, and clothing for your children will be viewed by the little imps with complete disdain.  They will end up on the floor, be stepped upon, broken, soiled, stretched, mangled, hidden, tossed out the window, left in the mud, and/or forgotten before the next holiday.  Your child will then have the worst Target tantrum ever upon discovering a version of the dolly (scooter, ant farm, gun) she really wanted that you won't get for her.  Or, it might be that you refused to purchase the bouffant, blue-eyeshadowed, mini-skirted, boob-enhanced doll (fist-fighting, gun-wielding, mask-wearing, warlord) you wouldn't purchase for her if it only cost $1.22 on clearance.

-  Each meal - and I mean every single meal- from the time the kid is born to the time she leaves for college will be a struggle, made more complex by the inclusion of additional family members all requiring various and constantly changing dietary additions, deletions, or exceptions.  The only solution?  McDonalds. 

-  The one-time-only "fee" you pay to school each year is just something they put on a sales brochure to get you to matriculate.  After that, plan on dropping $50 per week on book fairs, tee shirts, very specific gym clothes, even more specific gym shoes, cheerleading outfits, birthday presents, ER visits, lost lunch money, backpacks, stuffies, valentines to give anonymously, valentines to give publicly, fines to the library, lost glasses, lost retainers, oh-and lunch off-campus at McDonalds, of course. 

All of this, made totally worth it, of course, by the hugs and smooches and an occasional "I love you Mom!"  Nevertheless, since you won't get a chance after the baby is born, take the opportunity whilst your feet are hoisted up in the stirrups to gently nudge that handsome egg-wielding doctor right in the teeth with your stiletto.  

Wait - you don't wear stilettos to the OB/GYN?

Why You Want Toys (and I Won't Buy Them)

Darling Daughters:

You girls have already become addicts to advertising.  Yes, I let you watch TV a little bit each day and I know you'll be in years of therapy because of it.  For the most part, I let you watch what you want unless or until I see gratuitous violence or content that I think is beyond your years.  Lately, I'm more inclined to put on a video rather than let you watch the tube, but there are those days when you want to see some new Scooby Doo or Dora, and therefore, you are exposed to the wonderful world of TV Advertising. 

To make matters worse, I get a few catalogs in the mail just about every day, and you girls love to hang out on the black couch in the living room, poring over the glossy pages and commenting on the toys, books, and pretty things you'd like to have for yourselves.  Sophie- as young as you are, you've figured out how to justify any purchase, a skill that, while annoying at the moment, will come in handy someday!  Izz - you're more particular, but you want things that are well beyond your years.

The thing I find so interesting is that the ad exec's have figured out how to draw you in already.  You girls love to see commercials and ads because they make you believe your life is incomplete without the thing being hawked in the ad.  I get that.  Me too, sometimes. 

A few months ago, I finally broke down and bought you guys these ridiculous waxed strings  that were advertised to be the next best thing to crayons.  You're supposed to sculpture the strings by coiling and bending them into literally unlimited small creatures, food items, pasties, vacation homes, and alternative fuel vehicles.  OK - I didn't buy those claims, knowing that you girls were unlikely to build anything particularly useful, but I admit to believing they might just be "hours of fun!" 

The thing that really annoys me is that, as an adult, I should know better than to believe that anything that sticks to itself well enough to sculpture and hold it's shape is not likely to be "mess free."  I'm irked that I read and re-read the package about ten times, looking at that phrase "mess free" over and over again, and still bought the item after you begged me incessantly for months and I was out of ideas for keeping you occupied. 

We brought them home, unsealed the package, and I started to separate the waxed strings from the cellophane.  Low and behold...the wax not only left an icky, slimy mess on my hands, but by the end of the play session, you not only failed to build the Taj Mahal, but there was icky, slimy stuff all over my kitchen counter tops, your hands, faces, and clothing.  Furthermore, the smell was awful. 

Now, being the normal children you are, you didn't care about the mess or the smell.  You were, however, disappointed that your artistic efforts resulted in tangled masses of odd-colored spaghetti and meatballs instead of perfectly executed, color-appropriate couture fashion.  (Yo - Project Runway - I feel a challenge coming on!) 

It was me who, packing up the remainder of waxed string to "donate" to an unsuspecting charity, was chagrined at the fact that the company claimed it to be a no-mess toy that turned out to be, well, messy.  They didn't completely disappoint me, though, since I thought the "mess" would be crumbled wax all over my floor, and that did not happen.  No - it was the sticky ick that turned out to be the messy stuff. 

OK- changing gears for a minute.  The government went after the makers of Pom pomegranite juice this week, for claiming health benefits from their product that have no scientific proof.  There will always be the "it" items that may or may not work, depending upon your chemistry and the company's desire to sell it's product.  Many of them don't do what they are advertised to do.  Some will.  But, why is the government spending thousands of our tax dollars going after a product that won't likely ruin our lives, rather than investment companies, tobacco manufacturers, drug companies, and their own failed programs?  Really - isn't that sort of a waste?

Yes, I have a point.  Let me get to it now. 

Your desires can sometimes supersede your common sense.  But, common sense is not only instinct, but also intelligence based upon history and knowledge.  The "knowledge" I'd like you to start with is this:

-  All ads are meant to get you to buy something.  I don't care how sincere the pitch, or what the product claims to do.  Just because something is shiny and new doesn't mean it works. 

-  Claims are just that, claims. 

-  The people in ads or infomercials are always, always paid.  Those folks may, in fact, benefit from the product, but you have no way of knowing, so ignore that advice and look for other types of evidence.

-  When you choose to purchase something, do it because you have the disposable cash, and because the product may enrich your life.  Know what your budget is.  Take advice from friends and family.  Do the research. 

-  Keep mental track of what you buy that doesn't work, and stop supporting those companies with your dollars.  There are certain mascara manufacturers that I won't buy from anymore because they re-package their products every year and make new claims about how luscious your lashes will be, while showing you computer-enhanced images of false lashes that grow magically before your eyes instead of showing you real lashes with real results. 

-  If an ad claim seems so good you can't resist it, try to resist it. 

-  Know that you are fallible.  Ads are meant to appeal to your innermost desires, and ad companies do a stellar job at it.  Even with the best education and  brain smarts, you will make purchasing mistakes.  Just try not to repeat yourselves.  

So, I'm sorry I won't be buying the sand that never gets wet, or the clay that stays fresh for decades.  I might purchase a doll or two, but not the really expensive one that talks in a cute voice, sings, poops, and really does love you.   I won't lay money down for any ride-on toy that has an accelerator.  I won't buy the deluxe makeup set and hair salon so you can start your own business and be an entreprenuer by the time you're 8.  I will not buy any moresets guaranteed to teach you how to read by the time you're out of diapers, or to have you speaking Mandarin before you can say "Mommy."   I will not believe any ad that says a battery operated machine can make an authentic French croissant, cotton candy, or real snow cones that don't taste like stale freezer air.   I will turn a blind eye to anything that is both a pet, a pillow, a sleep sack, and also doubles as an easy-fold, multi-room tent.  And, I'm cancelling the movie club right after I fulfill the purchase requirement. 

By the way, Izz - I think it's very clever that you told the high-pressure hermit-crab seller that you wanted to purchase a few to take home and eat.  That's really the only good reason to bring a live crab into the house. 

Your loving, over-protective, and really mean Mommy

The Start of School; The Stress of the Parent

by Lorie Fuller

You can practically feel the crackle in the air as mothers everywhere send their kids back to school.  My own kids will start back on Monday. 

Attending school today myself, I was shuffled through a line to do paperwork, pay fees, get uniforms, and be patient behind the stressed-out parents in front of me.  I was a lucky one - my kids were home this morning with Dad as I braved the school cafeteria, and I didn't need to get to a 9-5:00 job like most of the parents. 

Nevertheless, I'm feeling stressed.  I have a dozen important dates on my calendar for the next week, alone, and I'm constantly worried about forgetting something. I volunteered to be room-mom for my daughter's pre-school class.  I paid an astronomical amount of money for a few polyester uniforms, and will still end up "cheating" a bit because I simply can't send my kid to school wearing a hot, polyester shirt, so I may end up at the principal's office on the first day. 

I admit I avoided many of the fee-based programs and fund-raising options this morning.  Things like purchasing cookbooks or baked goods, grocery totes, the Birthday Book Club, and etc.  The fact is, there are new fees each week at school for everything from the numerous photographs taken (remember the days when school photos were once per year?), to book fairs, outings, auctions...something every week.  There are days I feel as though I'm choosing grade school over college in terms of cost.  I do the best I can, I do my part, but I have to pick and choose. 

On top of it, the politics at my kids' school are intense.  In fact, because of recent events involving the removal of students with same-sex parents, I feel as though I'm betraying my own set of values by sending my children to school where the administration discriminates against certain children.  The choice to continue for one more year was gut-wrenching. 

I feel incredibly lucky that I adore the my daughters' teachers, trust them implicitly, and know they love my kids.  I feel good that we can discuss issues and find solutions, and that they aren't afraid to tell me the good and the not-so-good about my kids so that we partner in raising them.  I'm grateful for the parents, who, like me, struggled with their decision to send their kids this year, and who exchange looks of support with me daily.  I'm thankful that my daughters have lovely friends at school - the sweetest, smartest kids who amaze me daily. 

The bottom line?  I want my kids to get a good education, and I will be supportive to those who directly impact that education.  But, the weight of responsibility that goes with it is suffocating at the moment.  And, it has never been more important to suck it up, put a smile on my face, and be 110% there for my kids and their school.  I'll take it one day at a time. 

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As a parent, do you feel stressed at the start of the school year, or are you relieved that your kids are back in a routine?