This old house...

We have lived in our current house for over eleven years.  We bought a house when we had no money.  It was perfect for the small family of three we were then.  We had a three month old and didn't know what we were doing, not in parenting, not in life.

I have loved it, I have hated it.  I have wished desperately to move, and I have dreamed of growing old here.

We have recently done some work to the house, and have decided that it is the time to try to move into something more suitable for a family of our size.  Our three kids and three dogs have completely outgrown the small space.

And while I am excited to think of something new, and have fallen in love with a few houses already, part of me is sad.

This house has seen three boys being raised.  It has seen sleepless nights with a newborn, with me pacing the floors and rocking and praying for sleep.

It has withstood the abuse we have put it through- rough boys running down the halls, playing baseball, football and nerf guns.  Tracking in dirt and grass and mud, even sand from the sandbox.

It has seen the worst parts of my marriage and the best parts.  The fights, the tears and the love.

It has seen girl's nights with wine on the porch and date nights with my husband.

It has seen family dinners when everyone comes over and we eat and enjoy each other's company.

It has hosted Thanksgiving and Christmas for the last several years, which are my favorite times of the year.

It has seen my greatest joys- my children being born, graduating college, getting better jobs, and my greatest heartaches- losing my grandmother and then my mom.

My favorite times have been in this house, surrounded by my family.  I have memories of my mother in this house.  

We bought this house and we had no idea what we were doing.  We grew in this house- me, jimmy and the boys.  This is where our family grew.  And no matter where we go from here,  this house will always have my heart.

Work? Family?

We've been through so much together.  We've lost parents together, and spouses and boyfriends and even one of our own.

We've had tragedies.  Someone was shot.  Someone we care about did something unthinkable.   We've lost homes to tornados and had cancer scares.

We've celebrated birthdays, new babies, weddings, graduations and new jobs.  We've said goodbye to some who were a part of us as they've gone on to bigger and better things.

It's unusual, I think, the family I've found in my employees/co-workers.  The support, the love, the weird butt slaps and inside jokes (she need trainin') that somehow are all ok because we get each other.

The flowers I received on the first anniversary of my mother's death, letting me know they knew it would be a hard day.

The notes I've received from several employees that have lifted my spirits and made me believe that maybe I make a difference, even though I'm "just a restaurant manager"

The dinners, the drinks, football and wings, dressing up for Halloween, homemade christmas gifts and our christmas party.  All of these things I think about when I count my blessings for having such a great workplace.

I get sad when I think if those who will leave me, and how one day, things won't be the same.  There will be new faces and although I will grow to love them, there is something about this bunch that just clicks.  That just makes work feel like home.

I don't know what brought this to mind except that we are going through something hard once again.  And my phone goes off as I chat with them about this, as we try to make sense of things. Our hearts have been broken together and healed again so many times.  There is nothing like my blue plate family.

I didn't sleep well last night...

It's 12:30 pm and I'm on my third cup of coffee (for those of you who read something on facebook about giving up caffeine, please move on).  I didn't sleep well last night. I'm tired, but for once I don't really mind.

I worked a lot last week.  A lot.  I wasn't home any night except for Monday. I didn't see my kids.  My husband was exhausted.  I spent the entire day yesterday trying to think of a way to take the kids away for the day/night so he could get a break, and I could spend some time with them.

I finally settled on staying in a local hotel with an indoor pool.  This gets us away for the night, and it gave Drew a chance to practice his new swimming skills.

I was a little nervous.  Drew and I haven't been seeing eye to eye lately.  He has been testing me on everything.  Throwing fits.  Screaming.

But, we had a great day.  All three boys were extra good and we just enjoyed each other's company without any sort of agenda or to do list, which seems rare lately.  It seems silly, staying in a hotel room in your own city, but we really had the best time.  Drew asked if we could go on this trip again tomorrow!

My favorite part was bedtime.  The older boys had a bed, and Drew and I had the other.  We have slept together plenty of times.  It is never super pleasant and usually involves me begging him to settle down and then turning my back to him, hoping ignoring him will make him go to sleep.

Last night, when it was time to go to bed, he said, "Mom, can we snuggle up together?"  And when I crawled into bed with him, he wiggled into my side and put his sweet little arm around me the best he could.  I watched him fall asleep.  And even after he was asleep, I stayed awake, thinking about that little arm.

I actually felt my eyes fill with tears as I thought about how my "snuggling up" days with him would be ending sooner than I liked.  Pretty soon, he'll be Luke's age, where I have to demand my snuggles, sneak my snuggles.

Then he'll be Chris's age, and those little arms will be muscular and growing by the minute.  And he'll be asking for a cell phone and hanging out with friends.  Those arms will be used to constantly "whip and nae nae" and generally be annoying as much as possible (or whatever horrible dance move is invented by then).

Then he'll be hugging girls with that arm, and one day a wife with that arm.  And hopefully one day, he will have a sweet baby who wants to snuggle up with him.

His entire life flashed before my eyes and I felt all the stress from the past few weeks with him melt away.  I just held him, trying to soak in enough for the rest of my life.

And the results are in...

After many, many weeks of waiting (and having to get my blood re-drawn because the first lab wanted my first born child in payment for the testing), I finally got the phone call with the results of my genetic testing.


And.... I do not have any mutations that increase the risk of breast cancer!


I cried.  This is a huge relief for me.

I really have nothing else to say except I am so happy I did this!


(Thanks Carol!)

And now we wait

Well, I had my appointment with the genetic counselor yesterday.

If I had to sum it up in one word it would be "overwhelming".


Basically I had one small tube of blood drawn, and this tube will tell me if I have the normal, 12% chance of developing breast cancer, or up to an 80% chance.   Umm... terrifying.

She discussed some of the options I would have, depending on which mutations they found.  If they find one of the big guys, the BRAC1 or BRAC2 mutated genes, we have to get serious.  This could involve removal of ovaries and breasts. (did I mention scary?)

If they find one of the more moderate risk mutated genes, we could just take the stronger surveillance route and start mammograms earlier and perhaps alternate those with a breast MRI.

My mother did not get treatment for her breast cancer at CCI.  The only time I had ever been there before was several years ago when my mom was tested for bone cancer.  She did not have bone cancer, and I remember the relief and the immediate tears at the news that the tests were negative.  I never thought that she would die a few years later from a different cancer.

I felt very emotional sitting there, waiting to be called back, and then again in the room,waiting for the counselor to come in.  A weird mixture of grief, and fear, and hope.  The room I was in was just like the room we were in when my mom had the testing for bone cancer.  It made me miss her, and made me afraid for my boys.  I want to be around for them for a long, long time.

The dr said that because my mom had the disease and died so young, that could be an indicator of mutated genes.  But that most people that get tested get negative results.  So I have no idea what to think or how to feel.

I have 3-5 weeks to wait.  If only test results came back as fast in real life as they do on Grey's Anatomy....

The next step....

You have all followed me through this journey of losing my mom.  You have read my blog, my feelings, raw emotions typed while tears are streaming down my face.  Last year was the worst year of my life, no denying it.

But it has been 14 months now.  And even though I miss her desperately, the pain isn't as strong.  It doesn't take my breathe away, it just gives me a sick feeling in my stomach and a loneliness in my heart.  I am surrounded by people I love, but she was the one person I talked to daily, about everything and nothing, all at the same time.

So... where do we go from here?  Is the story over?

Now begins the next step- and I share this only because I think there are others who are as scared as I am and want to have this done- genetic testing.  My mother's breast cancer was swift and short and deadly.  She had what is called Inflammatory Breast Cancer.  It is basically the queen of all breast cancers.  It doesn't form a tumor, so the mammograms and self-checks my mom did were in vain.  This cancer spreads through the tissue.  Because of this, it is very hard to diagnose.  It is rarely found before it is stage 3, my mom's was stage 4.  She didn't have a clue that cancer was destroying her until it was already in her lymph-nodes.

So, it's the scariest breast cancer.  It makes me feel like there isn't anything I can do to prevent it.  I've given up artificial sweetener.  I've given up real sugar.  Trying to eat only real foods.  I have gotten back into the gym.  Trying to reduce every risk factor I have.

Thanks to a sweet friend who sent one of her friends my info, I am going to be taking it a step farther.  I have made an appointment for genetic counseling.  I am (hopefully) going to find out if I have the gene that causes breast cancer.

I am terrified.  Sick to my stomach, can't think about it without crying, terrified.

Why am I doing this?  Because my mother died at 49.  FORTY NINE!  That is only 16 years older than I am right now.  Drew would barely be 20 if I died that young.  The thought of leaving my babies.... I can't handle it.

And if it turn out I have the gene, there are steps I can take.  Steps that I will take to try to prevent this horrible disease from taking me from my family.  So I ask you to pray for me, to keep me calm until my appt (AUGUST, ugh!), and to pray for the results.

And I'll let you know.

It wasn't me this time...

Drew is potty trained.  He was absolutely the most difficult of my 3 kids to finally get trained, and it didn't happen until he was 3.  He still can't make it through the night.  I may never stop buying diapers/pull-ups.

Lately, he has started having accidents again.  Not just when he is sleeping, but throughout the day.  And sometimes, I find pee spots without finding wet clothes so I kinda feel like he is just dropping his pants and pissing every where at random.

I think he utilizes a tactic called "Revenge Pee".  I'm pretty sure it goes like this:  Drew is a little shit.  Drew gets in trouble.  Drew gets spanked/yelled at/sent to his room.  After screaming for 4,567 hours, he thinks, "I'll show them", walks over to the closet and just pees in the floor.  It's like having a puppy around the house all over again.

Speaking of puppies, the other night I didn't sleep well.  The dogs were restless and just kept waking me up.  They never whined or seemed to need to go outside, so I just kept telling them to shut up (not really effective) and trying to go back to sleep.

I guess the constant interruption in my sleep made me have a weird dream that I thought was real, and I woke up at 3:00 thinking I heard someone in my house.  Instead of waking up my husband, I decided, stupidly, to investigate on my own (Truthfully, if there was an intruder, I'd probably be dead before I got him awake and alert enough to understand what was going on).  I found nothing, so headed to the bathroom before I attempted sleep again.

So I am sitting in the dark, taking care of business, exhausted, with my head in my hands, when I look up and see a dark figure standing in the door way.   Holy mother of pearl it scared the crap out of me (luckily I am on a toilet.  ok, terrible joke),  My husband had been woken up by my adventure, and was innocently headed to the bathroom and for a split second, I thought I was dead.

Needless to say, I didn't really sleep well for the rest of the night.  The dogs settled down, but my heart just never recovered.  When it was time to get ready for work, I discovered a nice fresh puddle of pee in my closet!  As I am cleaning it up, I am cursing the dogs because I know it has to be one of them because of their restlessness the night before.

Drew wakes up and comes in the room.  He asks what I am doing and I explain that I am cleaning up pee.  He looks up and says, "But Mom!  It wasn't me this time!!".