Our vacation (according to Cortlan, kind of)

Last year after vacation, I sat down with Cortlan and he wrote a cute story about our trip.  Well, it was kind of about our trip.  I thought that this year, I might try the same thing.  Needless to say, it didn't go quite as well.  But this is what Cort did have to say (in the short time that I could hold his attention) about our vacation to Emerald Isle, NC last week. (I am thinking that next time I should have him write the story much sooner after vacation.  Perhaps he will remember a bit more.):

Can we write a story about our vacation?  Lets start, "Last week, we went to the beach and..."

I played in the sand and digged and digged and digged a big hole with Wesley!  And I liked when I digged and digged a big hole with Wesley. 

Cool.  What else?  I surfboarded every day.  (Pause.) I didn't really surfboard everyday.  I was just kidding.  Good thing you wrote it down.

I don't really remember a lot more.

That's all that you remember??  I really liked the kites that I was flying. Can you tell me more about that?  No, I really don't remember anymore.

Do you remember being a pirate?  Yes.  Tell me about you being a pirate.  I had to find treasure chests and I don't remember what else I had to find.  I don't think there was anything else.  Uh huh!  I saw fishies and the fishies hiding treasure.  And I was a seahorse.  I was floating underwater. Haha that's funny.  Mommy, when I said I was a seahorse floating underwater, I wasn't really one. 

That's all I want to say.

And that is where it ended.  So much for that idea.  Maybe I will try again sometime, but for now, this will do as Cortlan's version of vacation.  I wonder what Everly would have to add...

A still small, but happy ending

I mentioned that I had a bit of a setback in my half-marathon training and also eluded in prior posts to a reason I haven't written as much recently as I typically do.  I guess it is time for my explanation.  To summarize:  The bad news is that I am not getting a boob job.  The good news is that I don't need the mastectomy that would be the only reason I would actually get one in the first place.

Okay, so maybe that is a bit (a lot) dramatic, but that is where my thoughts traveled over the past few weeks, until last Friday, when I got the call that the biopsy results showed that the calcification was benign.  Nothing like the possibility of the c-word to make you realize your own mortality.

The whole thing started innocently enough, with my doctor feeling a small lump that she wanted me to have checked out with an ultrasound.  She was pretty confident that it was just a cyst, but she wrote the prescription anyway.  Unfortunately, they wouldn't let me get the ultrasound without an accompanying mammogram.  So, two weeks after my doctor's appointment, this "small-breasted" woman got her stuff pulled and smashed and contorted in so many ways, it was comical.  Actually, I did laugh out loud when the technician, a petite little grandmother, had me and the machine in such awkward positions that she actually had to be under it operating it with her knee so her hands could be free to pull some more.  I stood there thinking, "This would make a great blog post!" and distracted myself a bit by formulating the whole thing in my head.  I am sure it was a good one, but I forgot everything that I was going to write about when the radiologist went over my report with me.

I had been wondering why I had to go back into the room three more times to get more angles and magnified images.  Turns out, there was no noticeable lump of any kind anywhere.  But there was some calcification "of concern."  I would have to make an appointment at the Breast Center of the hospital to have a stereo tactic biopsy done.  The radiologist explained to me that 50% of women over 50 have normal calcification.  (I am 34.)  And that 8 of 10 of these biopsies came back benign, but that it wasn't clear to him whether my calcification was normal or not.  Benign?  My heart raced a bit.  If it isn't benign, what is it? 

Honestly, at that point, my biggest concern was getting the appointment scheduled and done with before vacation.  I had a gut feeling that nothing was wrong.  But, every now and then, the thought would creep into my head: 2 out of 10 of these biopsies are not benign.  And of course, I did research on the Internet to figure out what exactly calcification would mean if not benign.  (The Internet is a blessing and a curse; I am sure doctors must love all of the self-diagnosis that goes on nowadays.)  I just wanted to understand what I might be getting into.  I found that microcalcification (which is what mine is) can be an early indicator of breast cancer, generally of the type ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS).  DCIS is not a cancer that tends to metastasize, and in large-breasted women, a lumpectomy usually solves the problem entirely.  In small-breasted women, a mastectomy is generally performed.  As far as cancers go, this one is relatively easy to beat, especially if caught early.  So, it seemed that the worst case ended with me moving on up to a full B cup.  (Yep, if I am going to do it, I am going large.)

One full week after my mammogram was my biopsy.  I thought about adding all of the details of that ordeal, but I decided I will spare you that.  I will just say that the biopsy involved me laying face down on a table with a hole in it, clamped into a machine, smooshed to smithereens, and pulled down so that I didn't have a chance of taking a deep breath.  It was great fun. 

Though I felt relatively confident that nothing was wrong after the mammogram, I had been quite nervous about the actual procedure of getting the biopsy.  After experiencing the biopsy (in the cancer center of the hospital), I had the sensation of this being a bigger deal than I initially thought.  Though no new revelations had been made, I was more concerned than I had previously been. 

I had the procedure done on a Wednesday.  They told me that the results may be in on Friday afternoon, but that they might not be available until Monday.  I was to be leaving for vacation Saturday night.  Come Friday afternoon, I was a nervous wreck.  I kept telling myself that there was nothing wrong, but then would immediately think, "What makes me any different than any other woman who gets the call and finds out that she has cancer?"  Because, sadly, that happens way too often.  So when the call came and the woman on the other end of the line told me that everything looked fine, a wave of relieve washed over me that brought a few tears to my eyes.

The biopsy was not fun, and prevented me from running for several days, which kind of sucked because I had not missed a single run of my training plan up to that point.  Selfishly, I was almost angry for a few minutes for even having to have gone through the process and for the worry that I felt for weeks.  But, a few runs missed is nothing compared to the alternative, and I know I am so fortunate to have good doctors who would rather be safe than sorry.  Had the phone call been different, their early action may have been a life-saver.  So yeah, no boob job for me.  And I am quite all right with that.

A gratifying run

You know what I did this morning? I got out of bed at 5:30AM, got dressed, made some coffee, ate a bowl of oatmeal, tied my running shoes, and headed out the door. 

At the beach. 

And then I proceeded to run nine of the most challenging, yet rewarding miles. 

Some of the miles were into the wind.  Some of the miles were into the sun.  All of the miles were hot, even at that early hour.  But the miles were also peaceful.  And they were beautiful.  And they didn't even need music (though I did listen to a new playlist for the second half of the journey).

When I started this training program, this was the week I worried most about, discipline-wise and ability-wise.  After a little setback last week that continued into this (more on that another time), and due to the flexibility that a vacation requires, I can't say that I have followed the plan quite to the letter recently, but I am proud to say that I have now run 23 miles at the beach so far and I hope to run several more before the trip is over.

My nine miles today ended a little less than a mile away from our house on the road next to the dune.  I walked the few feet to the beach access and took off my shoes and socks.  I walked the rest of the way home at the water's edge, leaving disappearing footprints in the sand, watching the sun glimmer on the water and the waves roll in.  I enjoyed every moment...deep in thought and loving life.

Several things that start with P

There are reasons why I have written a little less than is typical as of late, but I will get to that in another post.  For now, just a few tidbits...

• I learned a lesson yesterday:  it is better to let the milk cup fall than to try to catch it mid air.  Because if you miss, you might just end up hitting the cup so as to make the milk cover a much larger area in all directions, including the undersides of chairs, the walls, and multiple people.  Had it just been left to fall, I probably would have only had to clean the floor.
• I am absolutely amazed at Everly's turn around on the potty training front.  I mean, we went from absolute refusal to poop on the potty to initiating it and having no accidents of any sort (since Sunday) in a matter of a week.  After trying bribery, sticker charts, letting her make a mess of herself in her underwear (while playing outside), and multiple other things that entailed both good and bad parenting techniques, do you know what actually did the trick? The fact that "only big girls who poop on the potty get to have their toe nails painted."  If she went on the potty, she got her toe nails painted for the first time.  If she had an accident, the polish came off.  When she filled her sticker chart yesterday, she got to have her fingernails painted, too.  Amazing.  Where did this girl come from?
• Another amazing turn around: Cortlan in the swimming pool.  Two weeks ago, Cortlan wouldn't even jump into the pool with an adult catching him.  He would tightly hold onto my fingers and plop in, at best.  Now, with a new found confidence, he is independently motoring around the pool (with water wings on) and leaping from the deck on his own.  Yay!
• I remember the days when everything that came out of Cortlan's mouth cracked me up because of what he was saying, but possibly more because of how he was saying it.  Now, Everly is at that age.  Her "Mommy, whatcha doin', Mommy?" every time we are in the car, or sitting at dinner, or basically doing nothing is somewhat annoying after the 5,000th time, but still makes me smile.  Her calling Cortlan "my Toh-deh" is so endearing.  Her calling toothpaste "poo face" inevitably makes me laugh.  And a good laugh is always welcome.

The Miracle Sticks

I have to honestly say that most of the time, I fumble around completely blind when it comes to this parenting stuff. I mean, anything I thought I had figured out with Cortlan really turns out to be not figured out at all when it comes to Everly, or even when it comes to the "new" Cortlan, for that matter.  I have realized that there is no reaching any comfort level when it comes to kids.  Just when I think we have settled into a groove and can ride it out in comfort for a little while, they throw me for another loop.  Or throw me out of the moving vehicle altogether.  The saying, "They keep me on my toes!" that I always hear coming out of my mouth and other parents' mouths may very well be the understatement of the century in my case.

That being said, and because I am generally so clueless, I feel that it might be ok if I took a moment here to express my pride in actually figuring something out and solving a parenting dilemma all on my own...in a somewhat crafty way, to boot!

The problem was this:  Each night, Everly wanted "one more book."  And I know that some of you have been there with this.  One more book meant one more book...after each book.  So, really, it meant an infinite amount of books.  Until I said no, and then the tears began.  Even when I said, "Ok, this one is the last book.  I will read it to you in bed," she still didn't get it.  It still wasn't enough.  So each night was met with tears.  To make matters worse, though she never asked for the paci again once the paci fairy came, that was right about the time that Everly started calling to us repeatedly after we put her to bed.  "Want nother big hug from Mommy!" she would say.  And then, "Want nother big hug from Daddy!"  And, "Want moe wader!"  Or, "Need covered up!"  Or, "My bumped mine head!!!!" Or, "Snuggie bear fell on groun!!" Or whatever excuse she could come up with to get us in her room.  Regularly, we told her that "this is the last trip in" and would then endure the crying that went on for what seemed like forever when we held true to our word.  It was painful for us all.  The bedtime routine became a drawn out nightmare of sorts.

Wanting the routine to be back to the simple, pleasant experience that it once was, I really spent some time thinking and brainstorming to try to figure out a solution.  And here is what I came up with:

Five decorated tongue depressors.  As simple as they are, Everly fell in love with them at first sight.  The three purple and pink ones show Everly how many books she gets to read.  The yellow and orange ones show her how many times John and I will go into her room once we close the door for the night.  If she doesn't use the yellow and orange ones, she gets to have those as extra books the next day. 

Now, some of you who are much more on the ball than I am may be saying, "Duh.  How could you not see this was the clear solution all along?"  But I just can't believe how well this has worked!  Apparently, there was actually something to my thought that she just needed something concrete and tangible to help her understand the concept of quantity.  (Must have stored that in the back of my mind after reading a magazine in the pediatrician's office once upon a time.)  Each night, she takes her sticks and trades them in one by one for books, lining each stick up in a precise row on the floor.  She promptly climbs into bed with not a single complaint when the last stick has been placed into position.  On a few nights, she has used her yellow and orange sticks, but within the rules, and without a fuss when the next night she doesn't get those sticks to trade for books.  More often than not, we read five books at bedtime now.

I am wondering what we are going to do when Everly's books get to be a little lengthier and reading five is no longer feasible, but I am hoping that she will be old enough to understand the need for a rule change when we get to that point.  For now, I am just so thrilled that we haven't had "one more" problem since the introduction of the incredible sticks and that I actually achieved a small parenting victory. Score one for Mommy!  Woo hoo!!

July 4th 5K

As I mentioned before, I am training for my first half-marathon, thanks in large part to some inspirational running friends and a plan written by one of them.  So far, I haven't missed a single run from that plan.  And, at least as of last week, I have been feeling strong.  My endurance has definitely improved, as has my cardiovascular shape.  With tempo runs and sprint workouts sprinkled in, I even feel like I have been getting faster.  I may actually meet my goal time once race day arrives. 

At some point last week, I looked at my training plan and decided that I might like to try to run another 5K before the summer is over.  Since I don't think it would be a great idea to do that too close to the race, and since there happen to be many local races to choose from at the beginning of July, I decided that now would be the time.  With the encouragement of a friend, as well as my husband, I decided to run a local 5K that benefits pediatric cancer research.  On the last available day for online registration, I signed up.  The race was today.

We left the house at 7:20 for an 8:30 race start, and I picked up my packet and chip at the pavilion when we got there.  For some reason, I felt much more nervous today that at any other race I had run.  With the weekend's festivities, including late and sleepless nights (one in a tent), and 12 miles run in the last two days (leaving me a bit more achy than I had anticipated), I wondered if this was the best idea.  I began to second guess everything, including what I had for breakfast.  I warmed up and started to feel a bit better, but had to pee four times before the race began.

The race was called The Race for Virginia & Friends.  Virginia died of cancer not long after she turned 9; she would have graduated from high school this year, the final year for the race.  As the racers were called to the starting line, a man who I believe to be Virginia's father spoke.  When he choked up about three sentences into his speech, I found myself fighting back tears.  When he reminded us of why we were running, some of my nervousness subsided and I just was happy to be there running, happy that my own children were able to be there playing on the playground during the race and cheering me through the finish line.

The race was not easy.  While I was running, there seemed to be nothing flat about the course.  Though I felt strong at the beginning, I lost some of that feeling somewhere just past the 2 mile marker.  When the finish line came into view, I was able to pick it up a bit more and ran hard through the finish.  I was happy to walk to the stage with my two children to receive my 3rd place medal (for my age division) and to have set a new personal record.  I was proud to have run the Race for Virginia & Friends.


_________________________________________________
Here are the results of my July 4, 2011 5K*:

Time: 21:14
Pace: 6:51/mile
Division Place: 3/41
Female Place: 18/374
Overall Place: 72/706

*I never have a particular goal in mind except to always try to do a little better than my prior races.  This one will be tough to beat for me.  I wish I hadn't heard someone say that they thought the race distance was off by a little bit, because it kinda tarnished it a bit for me; I feel like I will never know if this was a true pace (I heard nothing official about any distance issues), but I certainly felt like I ran faster than my prior races!

The Great Camping Adventure

Last week, Cortlan and Everly were watching a little Sid the Science Kid (don't laugh at our apparent dorkiness - it is a cute show) and in that particular episode, Sid camped out in his backyard with his dad and a buddy.  Cortlan was fascinated by this, and asked me, "Mommy?  Do you think we could camp out in nature someday?"  He wanted to have a fire and s'mores and sleep in a tent - all the things that Sid did.

I was actually pretty excited by Cort's request, because I really enjoy camping and have visions of doing a lot of it as a family as the kids grow up.  We used to camp quite a bit when I was a kid, and since John and I have been together, we have camped several times - including on the beach at Assateague Island with some friends and some hungry wild horses. We have made some great and lasting memories camping. The last time that we went was with friends in May of 2006.  Not long after, I found out that I was pregnant with Cortlan (and actually had been, unknowingly, carrying him along on that trip).  Then, before he was old enough (in my opinion) to go camping, Everly was born.  Now, with Everly a little more than two-years-old, and quite adventurous and pretty much willing to try anything, we figured that the two of them were old enough to attempt an old-fashioned back yard camping experience.  Thus, my answer to Cortlan was an enthusiastic, "Yes!"

The timing of the camp out was perfect.  Our neighbor had some 4th of July fireworks to set off, and to see them, the kids would have to stay up past their bed time.  Since we would already be staying up late, we figured we might as well do it right.  First, we went and got ice cream.  (I got Graham Central Station, which is my new favorite, for sure...mmmmmm!)  When we got home, we set up the tent and got the fire going. 

For dinner: Mountain pies - the pepperoni pizza variety. 

Then, after playing, some s'mores for dessert (in case the ice cream wasn't enough). 

At around 9:30, we went to the neighbor's for a serious fireworks display.  For our purposes, they were just as good as the "real deal."  Actually, they were even better, because we had the best seats in the house, only had to walk down the street a little bit, and had no traffic or parking to deal with. 

We got back home, got in PJ's and climbed into our sleeping bags.  From the start, it seemed as though we were going to have another experience similar to the hotel a couple of weeks ago, but in a much shorter time span, the kids calmed down...probably because it was much later.  They were finally asleep at 11:30 - far later than either of them had ever stayed up.

But with sleeping outside comes an early and noticeable sunrise.  At 5:30 AM, the sun was shining through the thin tent walls, and Everly announced that she had to go potty.  It had been a pretty restless night's sleep (mostly because Everly's feet kept ending up in Cortlan's back, to his vocal dismay), so getting up at 5:30 was the last thing I wanted to do.  But, we went in the house, came right back out, and much to my surprise, the kids fell back asleep until 7:30.

Through this experience, I learned several things: 

• S'mores are just as delicious as they ever have been.
• An air mattress might be a wise investment.
• The morning after a night of camping may not be the optimal time to run nine miles.
• Sleep between the kids instead of having them next to each other.
• Don't ever camp far too away from a restroom.
• We are just about ready to try camping for real...maybe next year!