Hope

"Hope is important because it can make the present moment easier to bear ... if we believe tomorrow will be better, we can bear the hardship of today."

Translation: thank you for all the good thoughts and messages, I have great friends and will get back to everyone as soon as I can ... been a tough week but good friends help.

Love, ME

Lonely

Thursday is periodic brain MRI and Neurosurgery Clinic visit to Hopkins. I always get anxious prior to the appointment and this week is no different. I have not been sleeping - at all - I just cannot sleep. My husband gets up at five-thirty a.m. for work and this morning, when his alarm went off, I was still awake from the night before, eating cupcakes. Cupcakes help many things, I don't know if you knew that. Even neurosurgery appointments. But not bathing suit season, there's the catch-22.

I haven't felt much like writing lately, there is so much on my mind, I don't even know where to start. I figure if all I am going to do is complain about what is going on and the stress, then why bother? Nobody wants to read that.

I feel like I have been a bad friend lately; I am sorry about that. It's been hard for me, I WANT to be a good friend; truly, I do. But when I am wondering about whether I am going to find out that the neurological degeneration is terminal and I have no options, I have a hard time talking about that with people that do not understand. I have a hard time calling back and making plans. Not that my friends don't want to understand; I have an amazing group of friends -- caring, warm, listening -- and that pack of girls you always want to be in a restaurant, the loud, laughy ones. But it is hard when nobody else is in your position to talk about MRIs and brain scans and IV infiltration and long-term care applications and the best way to flush your kidneys after contrast dye (red wine and cupcakes). They are all babies and nannies and South Beach diet and career prospects. They are living life, not worrying about how long they have left.

I don't suppose anyone with a serious medical condition would choose to have it. I am not alone in that regard. But I think feeling alone is part of it.

The First Day Of Spring

Sunshine and a trail ride. Can't beat that!

Magic!

The leprechauns visited our home last night. While we were sleeping, they went about their mischievous leprechaun business and got to work, setting up a trail of sparkle clovers and candy and golden nickels. They especially enjoyed the kitchen, and the milk in the fridge is now the color of new spring grass.

The Kelley-hued milk was the highlight for the seven-year-old, until he discovered something even more amazing than green dairy products. Leprechaun PEE! Before leaving, the leprechauns must have visited the restroom (all that green beer, can't say I blame them) because our toilet water is also Kelley green. I, personally, thought it was a little rude of them not to flush, but I suppose our bathroom is not ADA-leprechaun compliant, and they do have little arms, so I'm over it.

Ethan was beside himself at this magical toilet water, I had to discourage him from taking a thermos full of it to school to show his friends. I did promise that he could bring his buddies over after school to brag about our "magic" toilet. $5 per ticket for admission is reasonable, don't you think?

The Prosecution Rests

Go to sleep, it is bedtime.

How do I know it is bedtime?

What do you mean?

It does not say bedtime on the clock. There is no sign that tells me it is bedtime.

I SAY it is bedtime. So it is.

But, how do I know you are telling the truth? You could be making that up so I have to go to bed earlier so you have the house to yourself. I don't know. It could be morning for all I know.

Yes, it is morning. Now get dressed for school.

But you said it was bedtime!

Right then, now go to sleep ...

Wascally Wabbit

Behold the cuteness! It is too much, is it not? Don't you just want to pinch his little cheeks and knit him a sweater and then tuck him into your pocket and name him Cannoli?

Ethan has been asking for a bunny. Because I am the planet's biggest pushover, I am considering one for Easter for his basket. Don't tell Jeff (oops, guess the secret it out .... I am a terrible secret keeper). I think Jesus would approve. This will be my stock reply when Jeff says no; you can't argue with Jesus.

Jesus would want Ethan to have Cannoli. Back me up on this, friends.

Career Change

Dear My Son - I know football is your new passion and you think anything football-related is extra cool. I get that. But telling your Mom she has "a linebacker butt" is not a compliment. Not ever. Please remember that. On an entirely unrelated note, might be time to look into hitting the gym more than once every six months? Or just see if I could get drafted? Not sure which.

Birthday Boy

Happy birthday to my wonderful seven-year-old!

March 5, 2003: Ethan Charles @ nine pounds, seven ounces, twenty-one inches, arrived to brighten up my life.

March 5, 2010: Ethan Charles @ sixty pounds, four feet, six inches continues to make me smile every day.

Love the amazing (and tall!) person my "baby" is turning into.