No duct tape and silly putty!

Josh went to the ENT today and he assured us that there wouldn't be any major complications from the perforated septum. Surgery, like I had read on the internet, would most likely be unsuccessful. But, they can put a shunt/splint thing there if needed. For now, he is just going to try antibiotics. I can't say enough how impressed I was, again, with this doctor. (He is the same doctor that took care of poor Benson when we went through all the crazy ear infections, tubes, mastoiditis, and then the PICC line.) He went above and beyond to make sure that we understood what was going on, how it may or may not be related to Glioblastoma, and even took an active interest in our family and our situation. So... everything is what it is. Not a big deal, in the grand scheme of things.
So, while I did dream that Josh had a hole in his nose, I guess I won't be trying to fix it the way I did in my dream: with anything I could put my hands on- including duct tape and silly putty! Ha! (Seriously, if only you all could visit my dreams.)

Perforated Septum

Something new to add to my list of things that make cancer dumb (aside from the obvious):

A perforated septum. What's that? Well if you stick your finger in your nose... haha... you are doing it now, aren't you? You can feel a membrane that separates your nostrils, right?

That is your septum.

Josh no longer has one. It's just a gaping hole. He told me there was a hole. I didn't believe him. I got out the flashlight and looked in his nose. Sure enough. Big hole. Nothing separating his nostrils. Holy crap! I had to google, of course and found out that it is called a perforated septum and that it is rare but can be caused by trauma (like his surgery), cancer (which he has), or Avastin (the drug he may or may not be getting as part of a glioblastoma study).

Awesome.

The upside? He says he can breathe better. Ha!

The ironic thing? I had a dream probably a week ago that he had a hole in his nose.

Peanut Butter and Red Vines

Have I ever mentioned how a few years ago I realized that Kimball easily felt loved?

It was probably three or more years ago when I was snuggling my biggest little boy at bedtime. I told him how much I loved him and he told me, "I know. You make me peanut butter sandwiches."

It was so funny but so sweet. I realized that, even at such a young age, he had deduced that I knew he liked peanut butter sandwiches and because I loved him I would make them for him. What a smart kid. (Set aside the fact that PB&J is quick and convenient.)

So... I felt extremely loved when my boys decorated my birthday cake with things they knew I liked. Chocolate frosting and chocolate chips and Red Vines licorice. Yup, you heard it right. Red Vines. All over the cake. It was great. Thanks to Josh for letting them decorate it the way they wanted to. I don't think I could have asked for a better cake on my 30th (gulp) birthday!

Follicu-whatis?

Before I get to the actual post, I just have to post these pictures of Eliza for two reasons:
1. Um, they are adorable and of course I want to share them. My friend Mindy took them and just brought me the disk the other day.
2. My camera is broken and so I honestly haven't had pictures to post. I have an AWESOME video camera (Thanks Lindsey) but haven't figured out how to upload the videos to the computer. Until recently, we didn't have a computer with enough memory to do so. I am sure it's not hard, I just need to take the time to do it. So, these pictures are to spruce up all the boring text!

So... first things first: JOSH UPDATE

Josh had another MRI on Tuesday, October 26.  Dr. Coleman said that it looked nearly identical to the scan a month ago which means that his tumor is stable. He also let us know that stable is the best you can ask for. Glioblastoma is aggressive enough that those diagnosed will never be in remission. So... stable is successful. We will gratefully take it! He just finished another round of Temodar (chemotherapy) and has been officially off the Dexamethasone (steroids for swelling) for a week. So far so good. No seizures, no drastic change in coordination. He does have a random rash all over his body (arms, legs, torso). It drives him nuts. It not only itches, but is painful. We found out is called Folliculitis. It seriously looks like chicken pox. We actually wondered if it was either that or shingles. Hmm... what do ya know? Random rash that sounds made up.  After reading what wikipedia has to say, I am not convinced that it is said Folliculitis, but it does say that malignancy can cause it. So... maybe it is. Dumb cancer.  

That being said life is normal-ish. I continue to be impressed with a couple of families going through the same illness. When I read their blogs I realize I have a lot to work on and that I am grateful I have their examples. I've been using blogger as a journal, I just hope that I haven't made myself out to be a big whiney-pant. I feel like I should apologize to anyone who has read this blog and been annoyed by my relentless purging. Writing has proved to be very therapeutic for me, but I realize I should try harder to be more positive and focus more on my boys, my baby and our everyday lives.  Please accept my apologies for past posts. 

Halloween was a lot of fun because we had Joseph and Martha and their family come and visit. We had a great time visiting, playing games, and taking the kids to the pumpkin festival and trick or treating. My mom always has an awesome Halloween dinner for us. It's been the same ever since I was a little girl. Dinner in a Pumpkin!! I told the boys that is what we were having and this was the following conversation between Kimball and myself:

Kimball: "Mom, so then what is it that we are eating?"

Me: "I just told you, Dinner in a Pumpkin."

Kimball: "I know, but what is it called?"

Me: "Kimball! I said, Dinner in a Pumpkin. It's dinner cooked inside a pumpkin."

Kimball: "I just feel like you are ignoring me. I want to know what it is called."

Me: "I think you must be ignoring me. It is called din-ner in a pump-kin."

Kimball: "Mom, I am saying that I want to know what the dinner is called in a pumpkin." 

Me: (after wiping egg off my face and feeling sheepish for not listening and actually hearing what it was that he was really asking) "Sorry Kimball. It's yummy rice and meat and sauce and stuff." 

He was satisfied.

McKay has (until his haircut on Saturday), been sporting a new 'do. He told me one day that he thought Kimball looked good but, he "didn't look any good." I think he is a handsome little devil and told him so. The next morning he told me he wanted his hair fixed different. I obliged, and if it makes him feel more confident, why not???  I try to compliment him often and tell him how handsome I think he is or how much I like the outfit he picked out. I had NO idea whatsoever that I would be dealing with this particular kind of struggle in self confidence with THREE boys. I have to remind myself to tell him that he looks awesome, or handsome, or great... because when I look at those eyes and that smile- I see BEAUTIFUL! (That, of course, is not manly and if I slip and say it, he is quick to remind me that he CAN'T be beautiful because he is a boy.)

Benson is doing great, and with the release of Toy Story 3, we have had a bit of a break from Harry Potter visiting our house 24/7. I have to say that after almost a year of not being sure as to whether we are being graced with the presence of Harry or Benson, this week or so of sans-Harry has been strange. It's almost like I don't know what to do with myself since I am not constantly drawing scars, searching for wands or fixing glasses! It had become part of my daily routine! Ha! He still loves me to snuggle him at bedtime and wants me to sleep with him. That actually just means that he wants me to lie down next to him and tickle his back. He has also become as much a fan of Lime Ricky's as myself. He is always asking if we can go get one. It's great. It's kind of turned into "our thing."

Eliza is six months old today. Can you believe it? Because, I can't. She was rolling over so good last night. She rolled from her back to her belly and then to her back. She did it over and over and over. We have proof on video! Do you think she would do it today? Not a chance. It's just like a month ago when she rolled from her belly to her back four times in a row and then only once or twice since then. I guess she is content to just be. She is such a little cutie and smiles all the time. She is a good baby and continues to be a constant joy and comfort in our home. Night time is still a struggle, but I keep reminding myself that it goes so fast and to not wish it away. These six months have already flown by. I wish she would stay my baby for longer. 

Last but not least... I need suggestions on point-and-shoot cameras. Nothing too expensive or fancy. I want a small "mom camera" that I can keep in my bag and carry with me easily. I really liked my Nikon Cool-Pix camera, but even those have changed so much since I got mine as a Christmas gift from my parents. There are so many options. How do you choose? 

P.S. I am debating on whether or not to make this blog public again. I have a list of people who have asked to join my blog, but I don't really know them, and I don't really want to tell anyone no.  

Typo...

I knew that posting late at night would eventually lead to a typo here or there. I had to change a couple of sentences because when I went back and read them tonight, I realized that typos and the whole start and stop to feed the baby thing made some sentences say something totally different than what I meant. I had to edit the last paragraph to say, "I am touched if you read the entire list..." Oops.

The List

This post is titled "The List" for my most assured future reference. There isn't really anything huge or even really note-worthy (to anyone but myself) to blog about. I just really wanted to blog about some of the things that I am so very grateful for. Some simple yet incredibly amazing things that I have been contemplating over the last several days:

• The fact that my husband is alive and doing well. Six months ago the neurological surgeon confirmed what initial pathology reports had indicated. Josh had glioblastoma multi-forme. Brain cancer in its most aggressive, grade IV form. Without treatment, he would live only three to six months. Thank you Heavenly Father for blessing people with the intelligence that they needed to develop treatments to battle such a disease. Thank you for sparing my husband's life, and in turn mine.
• My sweet, impulsive, tender-hearted Kimball. He wants to please me and even though it is so very hard for him to stay focused and on-task at times, he tries very hard to do what is asked. He wants to help his brothers choose the right and he wants to make sure they are safe and happy. He is growing up so fast and is so smart and self motivated. So funny! He says the greatest things at the greatest times. This week he was worried about McKay staying home from school because he would might get a bad credit card! Ha! (report card-- in case that wasn't obvious)
• McKay can light up the room with his smile, and his contagious laugh is irresistible. He is eager to learn new things and always prays that he will be able to make the right choices. He is sensitive to the spirit and recognizes that Heavenly Father hears and answers him. He is the tease in our family and loves to spend time playing with his brothers. He always has a love and a kiss for me just when I need it. McKay is funny too. His comments are further and fewer in between, but they are just as funny and memorable. Last night at dinner he told Kimball that ketchup was good for us because it was made from a fruit called potatoes and that it had lots of allergies in it! Teehee.
• My baby boy Benson will always be my baby boy. Even though he is growing up so fast, I can still see the baby I knew needed to come to our family at the time he did. He is quick to say he is sorry when he knows he has done something wrong, and is diligent at reminding me that he loves me "too".  He seems to have a bond with Eliza that is unique and is anxiously concerned about her well-being. Once again, funny little boy. He must get it from his brothers. He can always make me smile. Like when we went to the doctor yesterday and he told me how excited he was to see Dr. Augward (Woodward) as soon as he was done working on the computer next door! Oh the randomness! 
• Eliza--my baby. She is as her name states, a fulfilled promise from God. She seems to be able to heal my aching heart by smiling at me. She smells so good and when I hold and snuggle her I don't want to put her down. (Probably the reason why she isn't quite rolling over consistently yet.) She is a good baby, and while we are still struggling with night-time, she is such a joy and I couldn't ask for a better baby. If only I could slow time down. It goes by in a blink. 
• Family. Good, loyal, loving family. The ones I depend upon so heavily and who share and help ease our burdens. The ones to "fill the chairs" (as Elder Maxwell described our life awaiting us beyond the veil). 
• The promise fulfilled that I would be surrounded by good friends who would strengthen and build me up. The following quote was posted on Facebook by one of these dear friends and applies to my husband and many others... both family and friends: "Throughout life you will meet one person who is unlike any other. You can talk to this person for hours and never get bored, you can tell them anything and they won't judge you, and you will never have to wonder if they'll be there for you. This person is your soulmate, your best friend. Don't ever let them go."-Unknown
• The chance to meet someone who really upset me but gave me the chance to reflect on what I have and realize that I never want to be the one passing such a harsh judgment on someone when I don't know the scope of their circumstance. I hope that doesn't sound pious. I really am grateful for that night when I had the chance to reflect and realize what pain simple words can cause. 
• The chance to meet two women since the first (whom I just described) who showed me charity and Christlike love when they knew nothing of me or of my circumstance. They each in their own way inspired me to be better and to try harder to reach out to others.
• Music. Healing lyrics and melodies. 
• Memories. Good and bad. The ones that have shaped and molded my life into what it is today. Whether that be for better or for worse, I am thankful for my life's experiences. 
• The gospel in its entirety. The temple, the scriptures, the living prophet, prayers, the Atonement of Jesus Christ.

I am touched if you read through the entire list. I also applaud you if you did. You must be a diligent reader. I guess I say that mostly because this post is probably boring to someone else. I just really felt the need to get it out. Maybe its because I haven't been gracious enough. I hope not. I hope that to anyone who knows our family knows that we are truly, sincerely, grateful. Maybe it's because most recently I have felt a heavy burden lighten from my shoulders. Maybe it's because I will need to reflect back on this in the weeks or the months to come when the weight may feel heavier. Whatever the reason, I am convinced it is not trivial.  The thought has been filling my mind day after day and in the most incongruous times. Little things seem greater. Life seems happier. 

Did I actually want this?

I am only willing to post this emotional vomit in good faith that maybe among the 100 plus readers of this "private" blog there will be someone who at some point has felt similar to the way I felt this evening. The way I have felt on several occasions, but on very different levels. It's the way I feel when I walk into my house and realize that it doesn't really matter that I cleaned my house yesterday--  today it all has to be redone because actual people live here. Little boys live here. I live here with my five-month-old baby, who happens to take only short naps and rarely allows me to stick with one activity for more than 15-20 minutes at a time, making my efficiency rate at about a D-.
Well, sorry about that. Actually, not really. I told you in the first few words this was going to be emotional vomit. I meant it.
So, tonight I was sitting amongst a pile of laundry that I was in the process of folding for the second time. During the first go round I noticed that there were some items that didn't look clean. I started the "sniff test" and to my dismay, some of them smelled like wet, dirty puppy dog. (Translation for those of you who may not have boys: they smelled like dirty little boys.) I was annoyed because I realized that in their effort to help, they put dirty clothes in a laundry basket full of clean clothes that had been sitting in the laundry room for a couple of days. (Remember my rate of efficiency?) And yet, this isn't the point. I merely want to point out that I had folded dirty clothes and neatly placed them in the piles with the clean clothes and so I had to re-wash, re-dry, re-fold another load of laundry. Anyone who remotely knows me understands that this alone would be enough for me to gripe and complain by means of blogger. Still, it is not. It just contributed to my mood.
Back to the part where I was sitting amongst all that laundry. I was feeding Eliza, which I had literally done only an hour prior, but there I sat nursing her again, putting the laundry on hold to do so.  The door bell rang repeatedly like someone wasn't even letting their finger completely release the bell before pressing it again. It was like, "dindindindindingdong" I, for three very obvious reasons, assumed it was one of my three little boys. I was annoyed and went to answer it only to see a woman standing at my door. I no more than opened the door enough to see it was a woman than she barked at me, "YOU'RE SON JUST THREW A ROCK AT MY CAR!!!"
Of course, I was immediately furious at one of my two oldest boys, knowing it couldn't be Benson since he was sitting next to me when said woman came beating on our doorbell. I walked to the back yard and asked which one was throwing rocks. Kimball said it wasn't him, that he had been jumping on the trampoline. I knew he was telling the truth because McKay looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. I grabbed him by the arm and marched him to the front porch to talk to try to make amends.
By this point Eliza was screaming because I had put her down in the middle of her meal, and Benson came to the door to see who was there. The woman said, "Well it looks and sounds like you've got your hands full. You've got one in the back yard on the tramp too, right?" I furrowed my brow and she said, "I tried to get your little boy to come with me to talk to you and he ran through the garage. I peeked into your backyard and saw your other little boy jumping on the tramp."
Nosey woman.
She then proceeded to tell me that she watched McKay standing by our mailbox and as she got closer he got ready to throw a rock at her car right as she drove by. She apparently pulled over immediately and either spoke to McKay and he started running or else he just started running when he realized he was going to be tattled on. Either way, she said that he didn't hit the car but that he shouldn't be standing out on the road throwing rocks at cars. (Duh. I am intelligent enough to figure that out.) Anyway, she again said, "You really do have your hands full. I can hear a baby in there and you've got these boys. You should really probably get some help."
REALLY? ARE YOU KIDDING ME? DID YOU REALLY JUST SAY THAT TO ME?
I most likely wrongfully defended myself by saying, "Yes, I have three busy boys, a five month old baby whom I was just nursing, a home to take care of, a job to keep up with, and a husband with brain cancer. So don't judge me!"
I then told McKay that he needed to apologize to her and told him that he knew better than to #1 be out near the road and #2 to throw rocks. He was embarrassed and nearly cried, but did say that he was sorry.  Instead of accepting his apology she just said, "Don't do it again," and she marched off.
After taking McKay back inside and yelling at him for making a wrong choice (yes, I am guilty of yelling at my child and yes, I do feel guilty about it), I sent him to his room and told him that he was to stay there for the rest of the night. I went to my crying baby and picked her up and tried to comfort her. I felt like screaming and crying and punching a hole through the wall all at the same time.
The problem is that the woman verbally stated what I silently fear most. That my hands are too full and that I am not doing a good enough job of taking care of my kids. I haven't found the delicate balance between hovering and giving my kids their space to play and just be kids. I haven't been able to figure out how to adequately "keep an eye" on everything they are doing but still be able to take care of my baby and take care of the laundry and the housework and fix dinner and etc. etc. etc.  I try to teach my boys to be good and to make good choices, but they are boys. They are kids. They make their own choices and those choices aren't always the right ones. Sometimes those choices drive me insane and make me wonder how I am going to do this and why I actually wanted to be a mother.
It's is clearly beyond my capacity as was stated by our visitor this evening. I wonder why I actually wanted to be perpetually behind on seemingly every aspect of my life. I wonder why I wanted to be the absolute last one to be able to shower and get myself ready, to eat, or to even use the bathroom.  I remember a time in my life when I would have been so embarrassed to have people always see me with my trusty sweatpants, yesterday's makeup, and yesterday's hair just combed out and maybe a little spruced up. Now it's just commonplace.
I want so badly to not be a chubbalub and to be able to wear something more than my "fat clothes" but I can't even get a consistent string of exercise in to make it really count. Yes, I could wake up before my kids and get it done, but to be honest I just want to get every minute of sleep that I can since my baby will still get up three and four times during the night.
The truth is that amongst all the craziness and outright admittance that I am far from getting it all together, I know deep down that I wouldn't change it. I wouldn't chose another life. While I rant and continue to throw a cyber-tantrum, there is a part of me that knows I wouldn't be happier without them.
Each one of my four precious babies has brought something special into our life, into our home, into our family.
Yes, it is an overwhelming charge to have been entrusted with these strong spirits. But, I won't give up. For all the maid-service and clean laundry in the world, I wouldn't trade one of them.
The boys may smell like wet puppies and Eliza might keep me awake at night, but they sure can melt my heart, make me laugh, and remind me of what is most important in life. It's hard and I don't doubt that I will have more nights like this one when I wonder how in the world I will be able to teach them and have them actually mind all they've been taught. Still, I did, and I do want this.