long story short

dedicated to brins, kai & h.k.a.

I've officially been called out for not posting on this blog in over a month. I know, it's been way too long. I had no idea that anyone would notice. Since the people who brought my negligence to my attention just happen to be some of my favorite people in the whole world, I am taking their feedback seriously and I am going to try to do better.

So, H.K.A., Kailyn and Brins...this one's for you.

Most of my readers know that I am not a particularly crafty person. So it came as no surprise that Hutton did not consult me on his assignment for the 2nd Grade African Market. The assignment was to create a product to sell at the market. The product was to be made by the student and had to somehow represent Africa.

Hutton immediately decided he would make freezer-paper-stencil t-shirts. He'd seen Brinley make them before and was sure that she would want to help. So, step one was to call her at college and set up a time for the project. Step two was to hand me the list of supplies, with instructions "not to forget to get the stuff".

Their "quick" project ended up taking several hours on two separate visits. Brinley was great. Patient, fun, enthusiastic...well, she was basically herself. But this time, she was much more appreciated by her little brother. They made an excellent team.

They made so many shirts! Four different styles, in lots of colors. Didn't they turn out great?

 

Hutton was a little nervous on the day of the African Market. He really wanted people to buy his shirts. He set up his "shop" with his best friend.

He really shouldn't have worried...

He quickly sold out and made lots of (pretend) money -- enough to buy lots of African treasures for himself.

And... a beautiful, made-by-a-2nd-grader bracelet for his behind-the-scenes partner...Brins.

 

 

 

*Stay tuned for more posts in, um, less than a month. I promise. And to Brins, Kailyn and H.K.A....thanks for keeping me on my toes. 

happy shower

I heard singing coming from my bathroom the other day. Made up songs, mostly, but some I recognized too. Hutton was having a great time in there. When the singing stopped, I went in to take a peek. Hutton was getting out, shivering. I annoyed him by taking his picture (I'm so happy my camera is always nearby)...

"Good shower?"

{the look}

"I liked your singing. It sounded like a happy shower."

"Seriously, Mom? I can't believe you're taking my picture..."

He stomped out, trying to act grumpy and annoyed.

That's when I noticed the steam stars he left behind, like a signature. Like a little love note that said hey...a happy little boy was here.

That kid makes just about anything fun. Somehow he's able to enjoy everything. Sometimes when I know he's showering, I make a special effort to listen at the door. His songs are happy tunes about whatever he's thinking at that moment. I imagine him dancing in his funny way as the water comes down (he always uses the overhead "elephant shower" -- he's the only one that appreciates it).

It always makes me smile.

 

stickers

I've been having major technical issues recently -- which is very unusual for me. So I haven't posted much. I have, however, made lots of friends at the Apple store.

One Apple Specialist (or was it an Apple Genius?) told me he was sorry that I was having issues, but, that I was such a "delight" and had such a "bright smile" that he liked having me come in all the time. Great. (No, he wasn't flirting -- he's like my dad's age). His  comments didn't do anything to solve my computer problem, but, is it sad that they kind of made my day? And, it made me glad that I didn't explode at the "geniuses" at the store.

Sometimes, all it takes is for someone to say or do something positive to make your day. I need to remember that. 

I noticed this picture tonight. It was sitting on my computer desktop. It made me smile. In football, coaches hand out stickers after games to recognize players' efforts. Score a touchdown: sticker. Make a good tackle: sticker. Do anything remotely awesome: yup, sticker. And the kids love it. Mac, especially, loves the stickers.

Wouldn't it be nice if we all got stickers when we did something right? If someone noticed that we were really trying? It wouldn't have to be an actual sticker for me, just a metaphorical sticker... a thank you or a good job. Something that says, I see you and I know you're doing your best.

Mac is a free spirit, happy almost always, enthusiastic, full of life. Which is great, mostly. Sometimes, though, he's forgetful, scattered, easily distracted by what's most amazing at each moment. I'm afraid he hears a lot of: you need to focus, Mac!...have you done your homework, Mac?...where's your sweatshirt?... you forgot to check in!...etc., etc., etc.

A couple of weeks ago, he was late coming home from a friend's house. He called to say he just couldn't come home yet. He was waiting for a girl to get home so he could deliver a valentine -- a rose and some chocolates. Huh? My Mac? Delivering a valentine? To a girl? I was floored. I was about to launch into my usual speech about being on time and being responsible. I also considered sharing my thoughts on the appropriateness of 6th grade boys delivering valentines gifts to girls.

Then...he told me who the girl was. She's an awesome girl in his class. He says she's fun and funny and nice to everyone. She also has Down's Syndrome.

Mac noticed she wasn't at the 6th grade Valentine's field trip. And he heard that his friend had delivered a gift to this girl's friend across the street. So, he and a friend decided to deliver something too.

And they did. 

I heard later that it totally made her day. Hmmm. So,this scattered, crazy boy of mine just happens to have a gigantic heart. He forgets his lunch, his library books and his homework. He gets caught up in the moment and forgets to check in. But, he also notices the kids that might need a friend... and the little girl who might just love a valentine. Amazing.

Leave it to Mac to remind me that I need to hand out less advice and fewer reminders... and a lot more stickers.

 

 

he's got the whole world in his hands

Oh, my poor blog! So neglected.

Yes, we're still here. We're happy. And, as always, busy. I'll have to fill you in one day. 

For now, how 'bout a look at Hutton's world map? The photo doesn't do it justice...the water he painted is so beautiful.

Can you believe it's been five years since Hutton was diagnosed with leukemia? January 1, 2007...five years. I've met a few people recently who have asked me about him. Apparently, cancer never rests and these people are starting the journey with little people in their own families -- which is why they've been introduced to me. I remember how scary it was to learn that Hutton was sick, so overwhelming. So, when these people come to me and tell me about their little cancer patients, I always say the same thing:

You need to meet my son.

Because, when your child is sick, and you are so scared, the best thing is to see a happy, healthy child who fought the battle... and won. So, for those of you who've shared your stories with me and, in the course of our conversation, have jotted down my blog address...

...here he is. My little survivor. The kid with the whole world in his hands.

 

 

he works hard (for the money)

Madsen often explains to us why it is that he cannot do a lot of chores around the house. Um, hello...? It's cuz he's real busy. He has lots of homework and he plays high school sports -- not like the rest of us slackers who do nothing at all -- except run a company (K) and raise a family (me), for example. Plus, he's got a social life. How on earth is he supposed to fit in extra chores?!

A few months ago he decided that "his" (it's not his) truck needed "subs" to make it truly cool. (dude, my family had a brown mini-van -- with paneling -- when i was your age! just sayin'... count your blessings!) For those of you that are not hip to the cool lingo: subs = subwoofers; they make your super-cool tunes, well, super-cool-er.

Can you believe that we told him that HE would have to come up with some dollars for the subs? We are the lamest parents ever. But what is even more unbelievable than our lameness is that -- what do you know? -- the kid can really work. I took advantage of his subwoofer dream and got so many things done around here. Yardwork, clean-up, errands, etc.

The high-point: Madsen hired his brothers one day and got the leaves raked, swept and bagged in record time. I think he paid them a dollar and somehow convinced them it was an awesome deal. He's a modern-day Tom Sawyer.

The low-point (which was actually the high-point for me): I made him wear a face mask in public while he scraped and sanded the fence in front of our house. I couldn't have him inhaling old paint and metal dust, right? He was so bugged -- how was he supposed to look cool when people drove by if he was wearing a mask? I sat in the house and laughed my head off -- and took pictures. I got my fence repainted (it looks great now) AND Madsen, desperate for money, had no choice but to comply with my (crazy, ridiculous) demands.

In the end, it took awhile, but Mads earned the money. Now I can hear him -- and his awesome subs -- coming long before he gets to the house. He learned the importance of working for what he wants and of doing a good job. He also learned that, if you research and shop around, you can save a lot of money on car audio parts (which is especially important when it's your money--not mom and dad's). And he discovered that subwoofers sound even better when you've earned the money to buy them yourself. As for me, I got lots of big jobs done around the house and the yard for a pretty good price... and I saw that my son can be a great worker, without complaining (except for that mask).

Best money I ever spent.

 

 

ps- please forgive me as i try to catch up with some of our happenings from the fall. i'm afraid i've become a bit of a slacker (maybe madsen's right) when it comes to my blog.

walker... a happy new year

Every year, I tell myself and my kids this is gonna be our year. However, the last few years, although happy and blessed, have been kinda tough. 

This last year, as you know, has been challenging for Walker. Two brain surgeries in one year...well, that's not easy. But he's handled it all with a smile and lots of courage.

Yesterday, Walker had another MRI and a follow-up with his neurosurgeon. I have to admit that, when we walked into the exam room, we both had a moment of fear and doubt. We talk positively and try to be upbeat, but, well, we've gotten a lot of bad news in that room. This time, the news was good: The syrinx in his spine is (finally!) shrinking! It has reduced by about two-thirds. His spine is healing and is filling back in where the syrinx was. Best of all (at least in Walker's eyes), the doctor says he can play lacrosse. No tackle football -- ever -- but yes, lacrosse, Walker's passion.

When we heard the news, the color that had drained from Walker's face came rushing back. He sat there, stunned. Then he smiled a little half-smile and I thought this boy is going to be okay. K rushed in a couple of minutes later (have you ever had a doctor that walked into an appointment two minutes early?!) and, after we quickly told him the news, sank into a chair... relieved. I asked a few questions, stared in disbelief when the doctor said that--unless we have any (unlikely) issues-- he'd see us in a year, then we walked out to a beautiful, sunny day.

Deciding to do a second surgery was one of the most difficult decisions of my life. It was a true test of faith. And now I see that it was the right thing. My dad said something to me back then and I repeated his words in my mind when I got scared. He said I should make the best decision I could, then Heavenly Father would take care of the rest and make sure that things were right for Walker. I think that's exactly what's happening.

This time, I mean it: This is gonna be our year.

 

writing series - blue Christmas?

Look what I saw hanging in Hutton's classroom:

No surprise: the kid wants a dog. So do his brothers. Walker has been asking for a dog for about eleven years.

This year, my boys told me that they would forfeit Christmas gifts... if they could just get a dog.

I heard that Hutton has already told his friends that he's getting a dog. I overheard a conversation between Mac and Hutton the other night:

"We better make sure that Ric {my brother} comes for Christmas."

"And brings his dogs, right?"

"Yeah, so he can give us advice and our new puppy can bond with his dogs."

Great. 

I'm having some angst because, guess what? I didn't get a puppy. Can you believe? Even with all those carefully written promises (he will clean up the poop AND teach him to shake!)... no dog.

I think we've already established that I'm a mean mom, but this might earn me a Biggest Grinch nomination.

Cross your fingers for me, would you? Let's hope it won't be a blue Christmas over here.

Woof.

mean mom

'Want to know what happens when you announce that, effective immediately, children will be charged $1 for items left laying around/not put in their proper places? See above photo.

And this one...

My kids are usually pretty good about keeping things organized. But with the arrival of winter, I've been battling a backdoor pile-up of shoes, jackets, hats, backpacks...SNOWBOARD BOOTS (you know who you are). 

First I tried gentle reminders..."I see shoes by the door..."; then came, "seriously? your backpack is on the floor? and your basketball bag? and your history book? SERIOUSLY?"

Then Mean Mom came out and, with a smile, calmly announced the $1 fine. Per item. Per day. Hutton glared at me and muttered something like..."why can't she just be a normal mother?!"

Apparently, insisting that people pick up after themselves is cruel and unusual. (I've also heard that Normal Mothers buy Cheetos and PopTarts all the time. Oh, and Cocoa Puffs).

Hutton's reaction to the Dreaded Dollar Fine was hilarious so sad. But I've held firm and, guess what? People are mostly putting their stuff away again. Peace has been restored.

Hutton is still looking for a normal mother. Poor little Indian brave.

 

(i have no idea why he's wearing that headband)

cousins

Every once in a while, I get a photo that I love. This is one of those. Brinley with three of her cousins. I asked for a quick picture and they started goofing around and laughing so hard...it was a fun moment. I smile every time I look at this.

These kids are all at the same college right now. They watch out for each other, support each other, tease each other. This picture says it all: these cousins like each other.

I always hoped my kids would have cousin-friends. You know, people they like to hang out with because they enjoy them, not just because they're related. So, this picture makes me happy.

I hope they realize how lucky they are to have each other. I wonder if they know how many Sister-Mothers they have. My sisters and I love each other's children so much. We call each other and share our kids' happenings, heartbreaks, funny moments, challenges and triumphs. We stress when one struggles, we celebrate when another succeeds... we love and mother them all. I've always hoped that the sister-love would spill over into our children.

Looking at this picture makes me think that maybe it has.

 

canSURVIVE

Did I ever tell you that Hutton and I were asked to participate in canSURVIVE 2011? It's an event that benefits Needs Beyond Medicine, an organization dedicated to educating and raising awareness about cancer. (I hate cancer). We were photographed several months ago and our photo, along with many others', was unveiled recently at a fundraising event downtown. (I have no idea why we look so serious in the photo. Yikes!)

My cancer experience(s) will be with me forever. I used to hate that. But now, I realize that I need to accept that those experiences, for good or bad, are part of who I am. 

This event was pretty amazing. To see photos of all those people that have battled and to read their stories... well, it was an experience. A couple of featured people were adult survivors of childhood leukemia. It was nice for all of us to see thriving grown-ups that had been through what Hutton had. It was touching to see my kids slowly going throught the gallery, reading the stories... thinking. (in case you're wondering: yes, walker went. but he got sick on the way and spent the night on the couch in the lobby. so sad).

    

Secretly, I was kind of overwhelmed by the whole thing. I was walking through, reading the stories...remembering. I held it together and tried to be extra cheerful. K's eyes were shiny though, which broke my heart. Cancer isn't just hard for the one who's sick -- people don't usually think about that.

All of the participants were asked to write something to go with their photos. I hadn't remembered what I'd written back then. It was strange to read my own words. Here's what I wrote:

{for my photo}

Being a survivor means that I can do hard things and that I can be strong. I have five children. The youngest was a year and a half old and the oldest was twelve when I was diagnosed. When you have children you learn to be strong -- for them. You learn to be happy in difficult circumstances. You learn to notice the beauty and the miracles in the everyday. You learn to keep going. When you have kids, and cancer, you don't give up.

During my cancer journey -- and my son's -- I was often surprised to find myself laughing...happy. Somehow, hope would overshadow my fear, if only for a moment. So, to others who have cancer, I say...hold your head up, keep moving forward and never, never, never lose hope.

{for hutton's photo}

When you hear that your child has cancer, your world stops for a moment. You realize that heartbreak is an actual physical feeling. You are afraid. When your child has cancer, you learn to dig deep and to be strong for another person. If you open yourself up and look past your fear, you will learn from your child.

I know I did.

Hutton taught me that every day is good, even when you feel terrible and you are afraid. He taught me not to dwell on the difficult times, but to move forward. He taught me to look for the fun in life and to laugh. Hutton taught me to slow down and watch as the beauty of our life unfolded. 

Having a child with cancer means that you will watch your child suffer and that you will be afraid. But, it also means that you will see the greatness in your child... and be changed forever.

*****

 

ps - if you want to see a few more of the portraits displayed, click here. this photographer, a cancer survivor himself, is an awesome guy.