Tonight I went to visit my great aunt who is moving in a few days several states away to be closer to her son and family. It’s a good move for her to make at this point in her life. Over the past year her memory has slipped and she’s had some health problems that have caused further deterioration. This will allow her more direct care and more time with her loved ones. Everyone knows it’s a necessary change, but change is hard.

Although she is leaving I’m holding on tightly to the memories I have of her. When I was younger I spent a lot of time with her and my grandmother. We’d take shopping trips to simple places like K-Mart or Big Lots, and I’d spend most of my time keeping the peace with humor. They were truly sisters and even in their golden years they bickered like it.

My great aunt treated me much like a granddaughter and always greeted me by taking my hand and patting it lightly. She had a way of looking at you while you were talking that reassured you she was listening. I loved hearing the stories she and my grandmother would share about their childhood. My favorite involved one sister putting a snake in their outhouse to scare the other.

Tonight her memory faded in and out during our short visit. Sometimes she was current and sometimes she drifted back 5 years or so, and spoke about my grandmother like she was still alive. I very much wish I could travel with her and make myself believe it was 5 years ago. So much was different then for all of us.

I think maybe when our mind starts to wander as we age, we travel backwards as a way to cope. Unconsciously we all at some point in our lives wish we could turn back the clock.

Although I know I may not physically see her again on this Earth I couldn’t bring myself to say goodbye, but I didn’t say I’d see her later either. Instead I took her hand, patted it gently and softly said I love you. She didn’t respond but instead looked at my eyes and smiled. I know she heard me.

Did you know that you can get estrogen by applying a cream on your skin? I knew they made creams, but I seriously would have never thought you could apply it on your arm. In all honesty my first guess would have been to apply it ‘you know where.‘ Wouldn’t that make more sense?

To recap day #3 in our cave, the dog decided to throw up all over the carpet in our bedroom this afternoon. As I was trying to push the dog into the hallway where the wood floor is easier to clean, Ethan walked around the door, saw the vomit, gagged and then threw up. That made two piles of vomit on the bedroom floor. It just doesn’t get much better.

Tomorrow is day #4 and I guarantee you I will be leaving this house. I haven’t decided where we are going or even how far we will make it, but I need a reason to shower and put on clothes.

Since I was off a week before Ethan’s school let out I was able to volunteer in his classroom a couple of times and enjoyed eating lunch and reading to his class. I watched him from the sidelines as he interacted and answered questions and realized just how smart he is.

I also helped plan the Christmas party for his class and spent WAY too much time creating a game in which teams dressed a snowman. Although I was proud of my creativity and the kids did love it, when I saw that the game lasted all of one minute before we moved on to something else, it was not worth the time I spent making all the stuff. But then I saw the picture of Ethan as a snowman and changed my mind.

I searched for a shepherds costume all over town and ended up using Ethan’s green bathrobe. I creatively folded a white pillow case as his head garb and wrapped a brown stretchy headband around his head to hold it in place. He was a shepherd at our Christmas Eve midnight mass and my parents were able to attend with us, making it even more special.

Ethan and I did some last minute shopping and we allowed him to venture to the Dollar Tree to do his own shopping again this year. Only this time he was able to write a list of everyone’s name and mark it off as he decided what to buy them. He goes through the checkout line and pays on his own. Then, he wraps the gifts and fills out the name tags as well. Our family knows to expect the unexpected when it comes to the gifts he chooses. That is why my cousin Laban got a thumbsucker (an actual sucker that is a thumb!).

The gifts were wrapped, put under the tree, unwrapped and put away. Santa needs to buy stock in batteries! Thank goodness for rechargeable! The gifts were abundant as usual and more than we needed. My husband and I have both agreed that next year will be much more low key. Ethan was so overwhelmed with the material items that he asked me at bedtime how many more days until the next Christmas.

This years celebrations were much better than the events from last year, so for that alone I am thankful. We were able to spend a lot of time with family and friends and hosted several get-together’s at our home and I enjoyed having the space to entertain. I was also able to sneak in a few lunches with some girlfriends and enjoyed the conversation.

I cooked more in these 3 weeks than I’ve probably cooked in my entire life. I’ve developed my own lasagna recipe and my husband actually had seconds and ate the leftovers - which means he liked it!

My husband was off for almost 2 weeks as well. This is the first Christmas since the accident that I did not spend re-cooperating from a recent surgery, so we navigated how to spend our time together. It was almost too much quality time together, but the night before we all were supposed to return to work and school, we agreed that we dreaded heading back into the real world.

A large portion of our time was spent playing the Wii that my parents got us for Christmas. I am not a video game person. In fact, I really hate video games, but this is so different! We have been missing out, but we made up for lost time. I think tennis is my favorite game right now, although after a fine glasses of wine American Idol creeps in there.

I think my favorite Christmas memory this year would be watching Ethan play the Wii. It’s hard to explain and maybe I can take a video and post it on here soon (we got a new video camera!). But he has this style of bowling that can only be described as “Don’t know what I’m doing/act crazy/don’t pay attention to what I’m doing/piss everyone off because I win!”

His record so far is 8 strikes in one game and 5 strikes in a row. He has played our entire family (and neighbors) and has beat them all. I’m thinking maybe we’ve found his talent and the Wii people may be calling soon to take him on tour. Can you major in Wii in college?

Throw in a few outings, a few good books, a couple good movies and that was our holidays in a nut shell. So what was on my list that I didn’t get done? I had thought about repainting a bathroom and wanted to organize the closet in our spare room, but I think my time was much better spent when I read back through this.

We are all three expected to return to the real world tomorrow (real world as in no naps). Unfortunately, Ethan has come down with what appears to be bronchitis and is will be staying home tomorrow and headed to the doctor. The over-the-counter cough medicine isn’t kicking it. I have eagerly agreed to stay with him and work from home tomorrow. Which is code for - “I can’t handle the real world just yet.”

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Now I know teachers can really only have so many mugs that say “#1 Teacher!” and I would much rather get something useful for them, because I value the work they do and recognize they do not get paid adequately. We are confident he is in a good school and that the staff is very committed to helping each child do their best.

In the past I’ve usually purchased a gift certificate to a local bread company (which can be used for a variety of baked goods) and purchased some small gift for Ethan’s pre-school teachers. I had something similar in mind for this Christmas, but I was a little taken back by the list that named about 10 specific places that each teacher would enjoy gift cards from.

Maybe I’m making something out of nothing. I just thought it was awkward to send home the list, because now anyone who doesn’t purchase a card from the list for their teacher will be “that person.” Once again I’ve compromised and bought a small gift card from the list and then a small gift.

This week they had their school/church Christmas music program. A note came home stating what his class should wear that evening and again I was a little shocked. The request was for black dress pants, all black shoes and a white shirt. Let me explain that Ethan wears navy dress pants to school as part of their uniform. So why would you ask parents to send kids in black pants? Why not navy pants that everyone obviously has? As the new family on the block I did not question this (even though I wanted to), instead I conformed and bought a cheap pair at Target that I promise you will only be worn once.

As for the black shoes, there was no way in hell I was going to buy him a new pair of all black shoes. He just got new tennis shoes that were mostly black (with a little silver and green) a month ago. When we got ready to leave that evening Ethan protested that he HAD TO WEAR all black shoes according to the music teacher. I explained to him very simply that I could have bought him new shoes to wear once tonight or a toy for Christmas and asked which he would rather have. The choice was simple for him. Seriously who is going to notice?

I was fine with the white shirt, because that is one of the colors they can wear as part of their uniform and he already had a turtleneck. That was the easy part!

So maybe it’s the pressure to conform that I’m not quite comfortable with. I want to raise Ethan to be himself and not always follow the crowd. But in the same way I want him to get along with people and learn to choose his battles. It’s only Kindergarten…

Despite the usual defectiveness of it all, it went alright. The law-in’s were their usual cheerful selves, but given the fact we hadn’t traveled up there in a year we were able to cope a little better. For the first several days their behavior is amusing, but by around the third day tension rises and the countdown begins. By the time we leave the driveway both my husband and I are laughing hysterically as we wave goodbye. Usually the visit provides enough conversation to get us through the 6 hour drive home.

There was one major revelation made within the first few hours of our arrival that I was not expecting. Apparently the wedding I drove 6 hours by myself for our son to be in last November didn’t last long. By didn’t last I mean they were separated within 4 weeks and divorced by the end of last year. I lost my bet because I gave it a year tops.

The only other big thing that happened over our visit was the yearly change in furniture. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it on here before, but every time we visit my husband’s father and step-mother they have new furniture. They always have a new kitchen table and usually some other pieces such as a couch or chair (or two). I think in the 10 years I’ve known Nate I’ve sat at 8 different tables in that kitchen. To me it’s ridiculous. If you can’t find a table you like after 2 or 3, then just give it up already. The one’s they choose are awful. My favorite was the round glass table top with rolling wicker chairs. Try keeping a 3 year old from wanting to roll all over the place during a meal.

This time around it was one of the pub style tables where the table is the height of a bar with taller bar stools, which I found very uncomfortable to sit at. The bigger issue was that when Ethan sat down (I should say climbed up) at the table and put his Bionicles down to play there was a big scramble to put something down over the distressed wood top to that his plastic pieces wouldn’t scratch it. What they put down was newspaper. Yes, like he was dog.

This is just a glimpse of the things that happen when we visit. We come home feeling extremely normal and maybe it’s good therapy.

Remember these? I had a pink one.

Red plaid. Size 9 then - now 11!

Teal with pink flamingos all the way.

Cassette tape baby.

That would make my Christmas, but thank goodness it’s not 1989!

We traveled North to visit with my in-laws since we have not visited the crazy land for a year. Remember the wedding that had me questioning if I was certifiably crazy? It’s really no wonder it has been a year since we returned.

But it does not matter what location we end up in, I’m just thankful to concentrate on my family and having fun. I’m also thankful that when we return to the craziness of life (more so work) next week that a long needed vacation from work is on the horizon.

I will be taking about 3 1/2 weeks off of work which should get me out of the office by mid-December and returning when the calendar says 2009. With the economy in a spiral going the wrong direction for many, I am most thankful for a job that I love - even if it has occupied too many of my weekends lately.

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving and I’m sure I’ll return soon with stories of our quality time with my in-laws and plenty of time to blog when my Christmas vacation starts early.

That camping experience 6 years ago didn’t go as well as planned. I’m not sure if it was the fact we had a restless baby or that it rained all weekend, but this time around was different. Remember our weekend St. Louis trip in August that caused so much stress?

You would think that shoving 3 people in such a small tight space, using a public bathroom for all your needs and being responsible for bringing all the food you’ll need with you would be stressful. But it wasn’t.

In fact we all three got along pretty well and we enjoyed ourselves. It certainly cost considerably less that the St. Louis trip and there was no threatening to leave someone behind. Most of camping is low-key. You stop and sit, which isn’t normally what you do when you go away for a weekend or week. We need more time away to relax like this.

Ethan told us when we got home that he likes camping because, “I can eat hot dogs for breakfast, sleep in my dirty clothes and play in the fire. You don’t let me do those things at home.”

Maybe relaxing actually means the rules?

We spent Labor Day weekend looking around a furniture outlet store in the middle of some podunk town in Illinois that several people directed us to after we’d exhausted all the local big town retail stores. The interesting thing about this outlet store is that it wasn’t just one building in the middle of two cornfields, it was 7 silo barns each connected to another that stretched to the length of 7 football fields.

Imagine spending your holiday weekend walking through these barns with a 6 year old boy and a 31 year old man who didn’t want to be there? Oh, add in the fact that there was no air conditioning and the bedroom furniture was in the very last building of course.

The choices were overwhelming inside this place. They carried every style including one that I referred to as the “California drug dealer ring style” - which was over-the-top metal scrolls with gold accents and mirrors above the bed. I might have said this out loud as we walked the football field with the employee helping us. Turns out she owns that bed and Nate got a chance to flash me the, “I can’t believe you just said that” look of his.

I made up for it later by suggesting we purchase a 4 poster knob bed that had metal rails at the headboard, because I could tie him up easier. Again, my humor was not appreciated.

Eventually we found two bedroom sets that we agreed on (MIRACLE!), but we were looking for a bed and two tall dressers. We didn’t want a nightstand and we didn’t need a dresser with a mirror. So that meant we’d need to special order our furniture and any day we’ll get to remember which of those two sets we decided upon since neither of us recalls at this point.

For our entire married life we’ve only had a mattress set and the basic metal frame below. No headboard. No matching dressers. Now we have emerged as married adults with real furniture. Not just any furniture though, this is furniture that matches!

Happy Anniversary Nate! Maybe for our 10 year anniversary we can get real drinking glasses instead of the plastic cup collection.

I had asked all the reviewers involved with Props & Pans to write something about breast cancer on their own websites and link to the DVD’s For The Cure giveaway we were holding by October 1st. Well, I’m a day late obviously.

At first I felt guilty for forgetting. I initiated this as a way to educate others about the disease I know all too well. My cousin, Stephanie, died in April 2005 of Inflammatory Breast Cancer - a rare and aggressive cancer that many of you have been educated on by Toddler Planet.

Although I forgot what I was supposed to do, that day didn’t come and go without remembering Stephanie, as rarely a day goes by that something doesn’t remind me of her spirit, her laugh or her smile. I ate lunch with her good friend Evie, who happens to work next to my building now. During our lunch we spoke about several memories and good times, and it was nice to connect with her again because we share a person close to both our hearts.

By the time I got back to work the nagging was in my head again of what was it I have forgotten to do and obviously didn’t write down. As I opened my desk drawer I found a newspaper clipping staring at me. I had saved it from our local paper a few weeks ago to remind me to send a card to a woman pictured on the front.

The lady in the picture, Tammy, was at the Race for the Cure in a wheelchair, with no hair and a cane - obviously still in the throws of ongoing treatment. She and Stephanie had connected being the only one’s in our area with IBC. They confided in each other and provided support that only someone going through the same hell as you can. Tammy is still fighting, but the newspaper labeled her as a survivor.

Already on the verge of tears after lunch I thought about how all the pink the world can’t save those who have already been taken by breast cancer. In many ways I want to be angry at events like Race for the Cure for making such a public display and creating false hope for those like Tammy who aren’t surviving, they are fighting and will be fighting until the disease overtakes them. Chemo and radiation can kill the bad cells, but never the memories or the emotions of what someone goes through.

But then I realized that just like Tammy and Stephanie connected on this single thing they had in common, many other women find strength and hope in being with others who have been down paths similar to theirs. If an event is what keeps their spirits high, then who am I as someone who’s not faced this difficult journey to criticize it?