Massive laundry, marathon cancer appointments, making it home

We flew back from California last Sunday, and after some debating decided to send the boys home with my parents since Josh had appointments starting Monday morning.
Again, no secret as to how much I LOVE laundry, and one of things that gives me anxiety about going on vacation is the fact that our family is growing and I have to do laundry EVERYDAY to keep it from getting out of control.
We came home with EIGHT loads of laundry. Count them, yes, eight loads for a six day vacation. I managed to squeeze one load into another load since there wasn't another washer close by. But, all the loads got done at the same time and I decided that in my next life, I want to have multiple washers as to be able to do massive amounts of laundry at one time. Maybe it's my lot in life to open a laundromat where I can reserve a row of washers just for me.

See? Doesn't that look like heaven? The chance to get it all done at the same time?

Monday while Eliza and I were waiting for Josh to get his lab work done, we met the most awesome people. One man with colon cancer and mets all over was positive about his Stage IV cancer, and ironically his F-bomb cancer shirt didn't offend me the way the F word usually does. In fact, as bad as it sounds, it was relatable, and I got a kick out it. I told him and we got talking. He is awesome. Dov, you inspired me. After meeting you, I will never be the same. I met a guy, Max, with melanoma who is hopeful at the opportunity to be in remission, two more women, one who is a cancer survivor and one still battling. I also met a woman who has just barely been going through all the emotion and trauma that comes initially with her husband's cancer diagnosis. I literally saw myself in her eyes. Lou, if you are reading this. You are not alone. I hope you are feeling better than you were a week ago. My heart goes out to you. I KNOW exactly how you're feeling. It isn't easy. Our hearts and prayers are with all our new friends from the Huntsman. I particularly want to share one blog from Carri, who is a cancer survivor hoping to adopt. Please check out her amazing blog!! It is called From Healing to Hope.  

Here are some cutie pie picture of Eliza watching all the action and later waiting patiently at the Huntsman's infusion waiting room. Poor baby is going to think that hospital and clinic are her second home especially with all the attention she gets every time we go. They have watched her grow and when they know we are coming, there are always a handful of specific nurses that come to see her.

Watching our new friend Dov as he was talking to his mom.

Passing the time reading a book.

Monday night, Josh had an MRI and then Tuesday morning an appointment with Dr. Colman and staff. Then, that afternoon he had an infusion for the Avastin study. The appointment went well. Josh's MRI didn't show any changes which means we can chalk up another few months for stability. I am pretty sure that every time we go Dr. Cohen and Dr. Colman are more and more convinced that I am a complete nut-case, but seriously-- I can not silence my concerns. Remember how I said that I am not the quiet type? I think it embarrasses Josh, but I am not sorry for it. He is my husband, and it is our family, our children, our life, our future. 

I want to live a long and happily-ever-after life with Josh. I have never noticed so much how wonderful it is to see a couple in their golden years sitting together at church or walking down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. I guess I always took it for granted, as I felt that it would inevitably be Josh and I one day. Now when I see it, I notice the sweetness and rarity (especially with divorce rates perpetually on the rise). My hope is that one day I will be able to sit in church with my aged husband, admiring his gray hair as he puts his arms around my hunched shoulders. In an effort to achieve that, I have to make sure that the doctors are aware of anything that might be relevant. If that makes me a nut-case and embarrassing: so be it. Despite all my questions, the reality was that he is still stable. And, ultimately, no change is good news. 

After our long couple of days at the Huntsman we were finally able to come home. It felt so good to finally be in our own home and sleep in our own bed. As great as vacation was, I was happy to be here. Probably more-so because the laundry was all done! ;)

Oh me young'uns had a ball

St. Patrick's day is a great day to sport the color green, but if you choose to not don your Irish drinking roots, it may be nothing more than a day where your wardrobe choices are limited to whatever green there may be in your closet.

For us, however, our Grammy makes St. Patrick's day one of the greatest and most looked forward to holidays. This year, she sent the kids invitations in the mail, and Benson was so excited to get mail from a leprechaun about Grammy's party. I still haven't convinced him that it was actually from Grammy. In his defense, there were stickers of a rainbow and a pot of gold, AND the invitation was on a leprechaun hat. He was anxious to call Grammy and let her know that he had a surprise for her and that it was leprechaun mail.

This year we had yummy pizza and green fruit, veggies and drinks... not to mention the fun St. Patty's Day cake! The boys were not disappointed with the pot-o-gold decor and blarney rocks. We played Leprechaun  Bingo and got a kick out of the phrases the boys had to say in lieu of bingo. Then, we played some Minute-to-Win-it inspired games. They also played a jump-the-rope game where Gimpy Limbs himself (uh, that would be Josh-- and don't worry, he's got his own terms of endearment for me) showed us what was up! That's right, tumor, you've got nothing on a determined jump-the-rope contestant!

Aside from the gentle reminders to "be a good sport because it's just a game and we are having fun," the boys LOVED the whole party and on the way home said they couldn't wait until next year when it would be St. Patrick's Day again. They even pointed out that by next year, Eliza would be big enough to play games with them. (Aw, what good big brothers).

Here are some pictures of the grand o' event for ye all to enjoy: (could you hear my Irish accent?)

A shy Harry Potter mumbling something about a blarney stone for his bingo. 

"Kiss me, I'm Irish" for bingo turned out to be one of our favorites!
Especially since Kimball is starting to get into the I-am-too-big-for-kisses stage.  Sigh. 

A not-so-adequate picture of some of the fun decor and McKay in his leprechaun hat.

Eliza literally has no green. So... she got to wear the cute green bow and some beads.

Minute-to-win-it game stacking the Apple Jacks on the skewer with one hand, tricky? Yes.
Funny to watch? Most definitely. Determined boys? You better believe it. 

San Diego

We just got back from a trip to San Diego. I have to be honest. It was our first family vacation other than our yearly trips to Jackson Hole and camping. This hasn't been to Josh's preference. He has often mentioned that he wants to go on vacation here or there. (I am not a huge traveler. I am kind of a homebody and while I like the idea of traveling and seeing the world, when it comes right down to it I start to feel like it's a little more grandiose for my personality, I get all anxious and I just would rather stay in my comfort zone.) The truth is, we have just never prioritized the money to do it. With everything that has gone on, we decided that it was important to go ahead and plan a vacation, and with the help of my parents we made it happen. (Seriously, Mom and Dad, you will never know how much we appreciate it. We enjoyed spending the time with you, building memories, sharing laughs, and most importantly did something I didn't think was possible... we developed an even deeper appreciation for you as our parents and grew to love you so much more for all that you do for us. Please know how much we love you.) 

There is SO much to do in San Diego that we barely scratched the surface. We bought these great money saving cards called Go San Diego and had three days of unlimited entrance into participating businesses. We went to the beach, on a whale watching cruise, the U.S.S. Midway, Sea World, the Mormon Battalion, the model train museum, the science museum, old town San Diego, Boomers, the tide pools and lighthouse at Point Loma, and swimming at the hotel. (Not to mention all the delicious and way too much food we enjoyed!) Honestly, the plane rides to and from California were just as exciting for the boys as any of the rest of the vacation. It was great.

I have a gazillion pictures I could post, but will try to only post a few. Watch for a post on the lighthouse of it's own. That was a particularly inspiring, stoic, and tender moment for me, considering I have a special place in my heart for lighthouses since their symbolism was made our theme during the year at Ricks I was the Relief Society president, and ironically just before I met Josh.

Okay, when it is all said and done, I posted 20 pictures. You can just quickly scroll through them. I honestly cut out more than 1/2 of what I originally picked.

Daddy and Eliza at the beach

Papa taking McKay into the water.

McKay and Kimball going back to the car SOAKING wet.

Ok, I seriously could not leave this one out. Good times. Good laughs.
Here's my dad who sold Ford cars for about 25 years driving a
CHEVY Suburban... oh the shame!

Here is our family in all our photogenic glory getting ready for the whale watching cruise.

Grammy and Papa ready to see those whales, and we did too!

USS Midway interactive jets

Sea World Bat Rays

Trying to get a good glimpse of the dolphins

Mormon Battalion essentials

Panning for gold after the Mormon Battalion tour

At the model train museum

Hurricane simulator at the science museum, where the wind got up to 80 mph

Boomers teapots, ran by our "very own personal attendant" LOL

Again... check out that photogenic family, haha! Oh brother.
Maybe one day we'll get it figured out.  Or not. 

Checking out the hermit crabs at the tide pools

Little sand crab at the tide pools

Current light house at Point Loma

Model of original light house at Point Loma, built on the highest
point, but not exactly the best point for ships to navigate

View of the ocean from original lighthouse

My little-big boy

Just look at this picture and you get a good taste of my Bensy's personality. He is not as gregarious and outgoing as his older brothers. He tends to be a little more shy, but has a hint of mischievousness that keeps him from being outdone by them. He is my baby that came to me in multiple dreams when I wasn't sure I could handle any more after my two first doses of boyhood. He is the one that from the very moment I looked at him I knew him so well that it was literally overwhelming.

The poor baby had a rough go his first year of life and struggled with ear infections over and over until just before his first birthday he had tubes and then eventually a PICC line to fix the infection. It was enough to convince me we were most assuredly done having babies that I got rid of most all things baby. He has turned out to be such a sweetie and is usually a pretty good little minder. He is noticeably more mellow than his brothers and while it's hard to get them to be quiet, poor Benson's preschool teachers can't hardly get him to talk.

Benson turned four at the end of February. My baby boy turned four. Uh, it makes my heart hurt. Really, it does. It hurts to just write it down. Do any of you mothers know what I mean? That ache that makes you realize how precious and fleeting time is? I asked him if he would just stay little and his obvious response was, "But, uh, Mom, I really do meed to turn four and have a Super Why birthday."

He tends to go from little to big depending on what is most convenient for his needs at the time. He can often be heard saying either, "But I am too little," or the complete contradiction, "But I am so very big!" It is sometimes frustrating, but more often funny! I sure do enjoy his personality and have to remind my self daily that he is NOT a baby and that I can't just give into him. Why is that? The older two just seem older. I expect more from them. Especially poor Kimball, when he was four I considered him mostly grown. Does anyone else do that? Note to self: Benson is not a baby anymore. (Sniff)

The poor little man is so fun to tease and I do it WAY too often. He just takes things so literally and still, a year later after it happened, he thinks IFA is called Crazy because when he asked my mom and I where we were going we said, "Oh, I think we are going crazy!" And, remember the garbage story? If not, you can read it on my post Oh my Bensy.

Anything that is not as it should be in his eyes has been termed, "Squawgley" including everything from his bed, to his clothes, to his hair, to the counter tops, the laundry on the floor...however the word serves it's purpose at the time being. He uses it so often that I catch myself and Josh both using it now! He has even gone so far as to tell me he didn't need to brush his teeth because they weren't squawgley, and then he flashed me a toothy grin.

Here are a few pictures from the friend birthday party at McDonald's he and Ryanna (or as Besnon says: Ryna) shared since their birthday's are so close, and the Super Why birthday we had with family where Super Why himself graced us with his presence. Harry Potter kinda started to jump in the mix after he opened one of his gifts from us: a pair of party-favor Harry Potter glasses. I am not sure that the bike he asked for was as exciting as those silly glasses.

Blowing out four candles, with a trick candle in the mix!!

The three amigos: Kenna, Benson and Ryanna

Opening gifts from friends with Ryanna

Super Why to the rescue!!

Super Why, with the power to rip open those gifts

...and here's Super Harry??

Valentine Day tulips

Josh knows what I love. All throughout our marriage he has been thoughtful in getting me tulips for different occasions and sometimes for no reason at all. For Valentines day, he got these tulips for Eliza and I and on the card wrote, "To my valentines: The women of my life!"

Shame on me.

I am going to be following this post up with some other more fun ones, so hopefully this one will be overlooked for the most part. This is just me again, taking the opportunity to write down my feelings while they are still raw and fresh. This is something I don't want to forget. It is something that I never want to experience again. I am sorry for anyone who chooses to read this and realizes that my blog has turned into a forum where I have chosen to keep record of the things I don't want to forget, where I can come back to review the lessons I have learned in an effort to somehow make a better person out of the mess that I am.

I know what the Holy Ghost feels like. I, for the most part, can recognize an impression when it comes. Still, occasionally, my logical mortal self will disregard divine impressions as my own thoughts or feelings. Today I did just that. I made a mistake three hours ago that has still left me with a sick stomach.

After a wonderful stake conference, Josh took me to the hospital for my second day of my second round of IV steroid treatment. When we got there, what appeared to be brother and a sister were standing just out side the ER doors obviously upset. As we pulled up, they walked through the automatic doors. I immediately felt like I should talk to them.

As I walked through the door, I saw them huddled together in the corner crying. Again, a strong and overwhelming feeling came to me that I should kneel down and talk to them. As I took a few steps towards them, the girl turned her head away from me and the logical, miserable, corruptible, mortal me thought about how I was a stranger to them and that I would probably make their situation worse. Why would they want to talk to me, someone that they didn't even know? For all they knew I was some crazy lady with florescent green dinosaur coban tape wrapped around my wrist.

I awkwardly turned and took a few steps down the hall and then stopped as I felt again that I needed to turn around, kneel down, and talk to them. My previous thoughts about being a crazy lady were enough that I all too easily put one foot in front of the other and continued down the hall to make my way to the med/surg area where I would receive my outpatient treatment.

As I sat in the chair and the nurse hooked me up to my solu-medrol,  I flipped through channels looking for my oh-so-favorite and oh-so-missed Food Network. I fought the lump in my throat and pit in my stomach as I thought of the two aching hearts I had left behind. I immediately felt an overwhelming guilt come over me as I thought of a letter I had just barely written for my mom's talk at a Relief Society activity themed, "Angels Among Us" In that letter I confessed that I for years have prayed that I might be an instrument in the Lord's hands to reach out and help someone who may need it. I included how our family in the last year has been the recipients of the work by angels here on earth. (I may or may not include that letter at the end of this post, depending on how much I want to expose my hypocrisy).

My thoughts then turned to the song written by Tari VanTassell (the same talented woman who wrote The Healer in this post). The song is called Praying for a Better Day and the lyrics in the chorus boldly and bravely declare:

"Don't give up the courage to take a stand. Don't ignore the neighbor who needs a hand. It's your place, your duty to show the way to that someone who's been praying for a better day!"

I sat determined to find that brother and sister as soon as I was finished. As soon as I was done, I quickly stood with my new, not-so-crazy flesh colored coban and hurried down the halls. My heart sank when I didn't see them watching out the same window. I looked for them in a few different areas before Josh pulled up to the door to take me home. I choked back the tears as I told him about my poor choice in judgement. He told me he would take me back to look for the kids. Although I was sure that they had probably been picked up by a friend or family member, I welcomed the small chance to right my wrong.

I hurried through the doors and swallowed my pride as I asked the people in the ER waiting room if they had seen a young brother and sister and what I thought their approximate ages would be. I am sure I sounded like a crazy person as all of their eyes were on me while I proceeded to describe the clothes they were wearing and at what time I had first saw them. They all kinda looked around the room at each other and some shrugged their shoulders. Two young teenage kids laughed and said they hadn't seen them and pointed out that it was an hour and a half later from the time I saw them.

My heart sunk. They were absolutely right. I deserved their ridicule because I had passed up the opportunity to reach out and maybe help someone who was aching. I had the impression to do it. The strong impression. I ignored it. I walked away. I turned my back on those poor aching children.

I am no better than the priest and the Levite who chose to walk by on the other side of the road and left the robbed and beaten man to die. (See the parable of The Good Samaritan in Luke 10: 25-37)  Here's praying that the Good Samaritan did come by to do what I did not.

"But a certain Samaritan... had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds,... and sat him on his own beast and brought him to an inn, and took care of him."           Luke 10:33-34

I am praying for forgiveness and the remembrance to never make the same mistake. I pray for the chance to make it right. I pray for the young boy and the young girl, wherever they are, that someone else is able to lift their hanging hands and to strengthen their feeble knees. (D&C 81:5)

Ugh... this post has been long enough, that I am sure not many will be reading it anyway. I will go ahead and paste the letter I sent for my mom for her talk. If for no other reason than to keep it as a record of the feelings I had today. Here goes nothing.

Dear Sisters:

My mom asked me to write down how we have had angels among us throughout the last year. I would like to start by sharing a scripture that became one of my favorites during college and has now taken on a new and deeper meaning:
 

“Wherefore, be faithful; stand in the office which I have appointed unto you; succor the weak, lift up the hands which hang down, and strengthen the feeble knees.”  D&C 81:5

In college, this visual aspect of this image came immediately to mind. I pictured someone so troubled and burdened by mortal challenges that their hands hang heavily. Helplessly. Hopelessly. Shoulders slumped over by the weight bearing upon them and knees feeble from a long and tiresome journey.

I wanted to be the one to wrap my arm around that twisted waist. I wanted to be able to lend some of my strength and to be there when someone needed me. I would pray for it. I would ask the Lord to let me be an instrument in His hands and that I might be aware of those hands hanging down.

Little did I know that part of the Lord’s plan for us would take a turn that we couldn’t foresee. Ours became the hanging hands as our vision of a long and happily-ever-after life together was disrupted with a terminal cancer diagnosis.

Hearts and hands rallied all around us. We recognized the generous outpouring of love to be from those angels living among us: they are our family, our friends, our ward members and our neighbors. Amongst the many angels we know and love and are acquainted with, there were those whom we had never met. Those who’d heard of our plight and reached out a loving steadfast hand to ours that hung.

Our backyard was completely landscaped in a matter of two weeks. The amount of men that showed up to lay sod was so overwhelming. They literally had our entire yard from dirt to grass in minutes. That may seem trivial, but when you consider that I have three little boys who had been confined to our house all winter, you can start to imagine what a blessing it is to have grass for them to play.

Numerous fund-raisers on various scales humbled us to the core. We were touched by the work that went into organizing each one. We were grateful for the way that the generosity of others helped provide a way for us to pay for Josh’s treatment that otherwise may have had us drowning financially.

We received cards and letters reminding us that we were in thoughts and prayers. I received a few letters in particular that came from one angel who will never know how much her words comforted and inspired me. She will never know how I was able to read and re-read her letters while I was feeling weak and afraid and then felt strengthened and faithful.

I could continue going on and on, and part of me feels like I am not adequately expressing my gratitude by going over our experiences with angels so quickly, but I feel it might be more pertinent to point out that each of us at some point in our lives experience the tender mercies that come from the angels all around us. Each of us know, on some level, how it feels to have our hearts healed, our hanging hands lifted and our feeble knees strengthened.

If there is anything I have learned through our experiences it is that sometimes the hands of these angels facilitate the enabling power of the atonement to start its work in our hearts. Sometimes it is through each of you faithful, loyal, dear angels that the Lord accomplishes His work.

Sincerely,
Kristen 

Awaken to Christ

First things first, in an attempt to protect my friend and her family in the video that I made of The Healer, I selected the private button on youtube thinking that you would still be able to see it on my blog. (Der.) I went back and fixed it so that you should be able to watch it. Sorry to anyone who tried and couldn't get it to work. It should work now. It really is an awesome song, and I would highly recommend the entire CD! Scroll down to the previous post to hear it.

Secondly, I ran across a journal that I made in my CS Lewis class in college. I know I have mentioned how much I love CS Lewis. Well, our "intellectual" journals were our final projects for the class. (Teehee. That sounds so funny to me now, since about as "intellectual" as I get in a day is determining my kids' sugar intake) I had forgotten why I named mine "Awaken to Christ."

The following quote is one that had been among my favorites in the class. Ironic how now, 10 years later, it seems to take on a deeper meaning:

"What we have been told is how we men can be drawn to Christ-- can become part of that wonderful present which the young Prince of the universe wants to offer to His Father-- that present which is Himself and therefore us in Him. It is the only thing we were made for. There are strange, exciting hints in the Bible that when we are drawn in, a great many other things in Nature will begin to come right. The bad dream will be over: it will be morning."                                      Mere Christianity, p. 172